Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (9 page)

           
“In danger? What the hell is going on?”

           
“We can’t explain it here, but we need your help. Do you
know of a place?”

Jason chewed on the
corner of his bottom lip for a few seconds before his eyes lit up. “Yeah, my
dad has a house in Malibu. He’s not using it right now and I have the keys.”

Grant visibly relaxed
and clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Thanks, man, we owe you. Can we head
over there tonight?”

           
“Yeah, but I need to know what the hell is going on.”

Grant’s mouth formed a
straight line as he exchanged another silent communication with Dominic and
then he nodded.

           
“Nat!” Collin called from across the bar. “The natives
are getting restless.” He gestured toward a few tables where patrons sat with
empty glasses in front of them.

           
“Shit, I need to get back to work!” I broke away from
Dominic’s hold and quickly caught up with orders. I did a cursory refill at table
eight without further conversation. I could feel the men watching me as I
walked away and literally felt like a moving target.

After work, unable to
deal with either Jason or Dominic, I climbed into Grant’s rental and we drove
to Chelsea’s apartment. Jason and Dominic’s vehicles fell in behind us like a
mini convoy.

We were on the road,
not even three minutes, before Grant started in. “Nat, I know why you left
Philly, but did you seriously think it would be so easily left behind?”

I turned away from
staring out the window and regarded his profile, which was illuminated from the
dashboard lighting. Even in the dim glow I could see the bags under his eyes.

           
“Things have been going well here, but it’s not like I’ve
forgotten everything, Grant. The man I killed still haunts my dreams, what
happened to Brittany haunts me. These memories will forever be a part of
me.”
 

           
“Does Chelsea know what happened?”

I hesitated before
confessing that I told Chelsea everything. He clenched the steering wheel
tightly with both hands and I saw his jaw bulge as he absorbed my revelation.
“And this Jason guy?”

           
“He has no idea. I haven’t told him anything. He just
thinks I had a bad break up.”

Grant shook his head
and gave out a choked laugh. “You seem to have moved on just fine. Do you know
how devastated Dom was after you left?”

I was stunned into
silence. Grant was sticking up for Dominic and I was the bad guy? When did this
role reversal happen? Eventually curiosity won out. “It was that bad?”

           
“Yeah and then there was the constant worry on top of you
leaving him. We had no idea where you were. All we knew was the hit on you was
still active so at least we knew you were alive, but we knew that could change
at any moment.”

           
“I’m sorry, but I thought…” I turned away so he couldn’t
see the tears threatening to spill. That would explain Dom and Grant’s
appearance. It looked like they hadn’t slept in days for a reason. “How
did
you find me?”

           
“Dante’s brother, Johnny, found a video of you involved
in a bar fight at Dirty. It’s all over You Tube.”

           
“Shit. I knew a video was out there, but there were only
like fifty views the last time saw it and the quality sucks. You recognized me?”

           
“Of course I did, but what’s important is that Johnny’s
only met you once or twice and he recognized you.”

           
“Shit,” I sunk down further in the seat as the reality
set in. Grant turned into the apartment complex and came to a stop in an empty
space outside Chelsea’s building. Turning the engine off, he waited for Jason
and Dominic to find spots to park. “Is Chelsea home?”

           
“No, she sent me a text saying she’s staying at her
boyfriend’s tonight.”

           
“Good, that will give us time to figure out our next
steps. Come on.” He opened his door and climbed out, signaling to Dominic that
we’d be down in five minutes.

I led and Grant
followed, looking behind him occasionally to make sure no one was sneaking up
behind to whack us. I noticed he reflexively reached for his gun, but he wasn’t
wearing the holster. “You’re not armed?” I whispered as I unlocked the front
door.

           
“Nope, couldn’t take it on the plane. Dom’s not carrying
either.”

           
“Oh.” Now his hyper-vigilance made sense. I’d grown
accustomed to seeing Grant with his gun, like it was an extension of his arm,
and not having it with him had to make him feel vulnerable. Feeling the urgency
to be less exposed, I quickly ushered us inside the apartment and flicked on
the light in the living room. My blankets were folded and placed on the end of
the futon, my pillow on top of the pile. A small dresser, more the size of a
nightstand, was set against the far wall closest to the hallway. I walked over
to it and started pulling out underwear, a couple of bras and some socks. I
then went to Chelsea’s room and opened her closet. She had generously moved her
clothes, giving me a third of the space. I grabbed some dresses and shirts off
of hangers, then yanked a pair of jeans and shorts off of the shelf that was so
full, it threatened to send an avalanche of clothes onto my head.

Returning to the living
room, I stuffed my belongings into a pink duffle bag. After a trip to the
bathroom, hair product and makeup got crammed into a side pocket. The bag
bulged and was misshapen, but the zippers held.

           
“Okay, I’m ready.”

Grant retrieved a cell
phone from the front pocket of his jeans and dialed. “Dom, we’re coming down,
everything still clear?” Grant looked at me and nodded. Ending the call, he
grabbed my bag and I followed him out of the apartment, locking the door behind
us.

The moment we stepped
onto the small landing into the night, my heart rate accelerated and I glanced
nervously over the balcony at the shadows the landscape created. Anyone could
be lurking, hiding in the foliage that lined the walkway leading to the parking
lot. Grant’s rental car gleamed like a beacon under one of the lights, but it
also illuminated our destination. Over the past few weeks I had stopped looking
over my shoulder, but now the fear and anxiety came rushing back in one night.
Grant was already at the bottom of the stairs, so I took a deep breath and
caught up, walking beside him, taking two steps for every one of his long
strides. Within seconds we reached the car and got in, Grant tossing my bag
onto the backseat as he slid in behind the wheel.

Jason pulled out first
and Grant followed him, with Dominic taking up the rear position. I was
reminded of a scene in a movie where the important cargo is kept in the middle
of a caravan for protection. Sure I was near Hollywood, but this wasn’t a
movie. The invisible band around my lungs began to tighten, and I struggled to
fend off another panic attack by taking slow, deep breaths and keeping my eyes
on the steady red glow of Jason’s taillights.

Traffic was light and
we weren’t being followed, so I lowered the window once we got on the Pacific
Coast Highway. The air was heavier here, the moisture of the ocean beating back
the claim of the arid valley. Aside from the brininess, the desert rose, wild
orchids and other organic fragrances seemed to be trapped in the denser air and
I breathed it in, expanding my lungs, breaking the remaining weak hold of the
invisible band.

Jason slowed and turned
onto a winding, sandy driveway. I could barely make out the shape of a house
which, as we got closer, I saw was more of a mansion.

           
“This is a second home?” Grant asked, peering up through
the windshield at the three stories of glass we had stopped in front of.
 
The Jersey Shore has some impressive beach
homes, but nothing on this Architectural Digest scale.

           
“Ah yeah, Jason’s dad must be doing alright for himself.”

           
“What does he do?”

           
“Entertainment lawyer,” I said with a shrug and opened
the door, anxious to see the inside of this modern palace.

Jason waited for me at
the bottom of three wooden steps that spanned the length of the house. He
tapped the bottom step with his foot and lights, set inside the risers, burst
to life illuminating the dark stain of the tread. I followed him and he
unlocked the wide front door, the same dark wood as the steps. Once again, a
light automatically came on when we entered the foyer. Straight down the hall
was the back of the house, also all glass. I recognized the twinkling lights of
a boat in the distance.

           
“Ocean views?” I asked Jason.

           
“More than just views, we’re right on the beach. Wait
until daylight.”

He moved deeper into
the house, turning lights on as he went and I followed, with Grant and Dominic
at my heels.
 
Everything was clinical
clean from the light tan tile floors to the golden granite countertops in the
kitchen and the bleached wood cabinets that looked like they’d never been used.
Normally, with wood that light, smudges of fingerprints became permanent over
time, but these might as well have been installed the day before.

The stools around the
island in the kitchen faced toward the glass windows overlooking the ocean, so
did the living room furniture. The white leather sectional, covered with large green
and blue pillows also appeared brand new. I imagined reclining back on the
cloud of pillows and staring at the ocean for all of eternity.

Jason grabbed four
bottles of beer out of the industrial sized, stainless steel refrigerator and
walked over to the sliding glass doors. With one hand, he deftly slid it open,
the hiss and roar of the surf greeting us. Once outside, he gestured to a metal
table with ornate legs and a glass top. We sat down in the chairs around the
table and each took a beer from Jason who took a long swig off of his. I
watched his throat move when he swallowed. He set his bottle down on the table
top, the glass clinking in an abbreviated toast.

           
“Okay, so I only brought you guys here because you said
Nat’s in danger. What the fuck is going on? What kind of danger are we talking
about here?”

This was the part I was
dreading because I didn’t know what Dom and Grant planned on telling Jason or
if it was up to me to come clean. I liked Jason and hated that he was getting
involved at all. Finding out the truth was surely going to test, if not end,
our friendship.

Dominic, who was
sitting next to me, reached under the table and lightly squeezed my knee before
he began to talk. “I’m involved with organized crime and unfortunately, Natalie
got caught in the middle of something. We were shot at and both of us were hit.
She saved my life and while I was recovering, Nat took it upon herself to leave
Philly. There are people looking for her; powerful people who want her dead.”

           
“Are you shitting me?” Jason asked, looking right at me.
Based on Jason’s reaction, I was relieved Dom left out the part of me shooting
and killing a man.

I stopped peeling the
label off my beer bottle and met his eyes. “That’s what happened. The scar on
my shoulder is from a bullet, not rebar like I told you.”

Jason was quiet and
staring at me so I broke eye contact and nervously resumed plucking at the
partially shredded label.

           
“I didn’t want Natalie involved, but she managed to get
caught in the middle of a feud,” Grant added. “She needs our protection.”

           
“Grant, if you and Dom didn’t kill Mr. Genovese, this
wouldn’t have happened.” I reminded him.

           
“I’m not sorry that motherfucker is dead,” Dom muttered
before taking a swig of beer.

I peered up through my
eyelashes at Jason. He sat across from me and was still watching me. I mouthed,
“I’m sorry” to him and he shook his head.

           
“Okay, so Natalie needs protection. Do the people who
have the hit out on her know she’s in California?”

           
“Most likely,” Dom explained the appearance of Bianchi
family soldiers at Dirty.

           
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them,” Jason said.

           
“You have?” I raised my eyebrows.

           
“Yeah, you know the film industry wouldn’t be where it is
today without mob money.”

Great, I thought to
myself, was any place safe?

           
“Right now Dom and I are unarmed. At least we were able
to move Natalie here, but we need to come up with a new plan and fast,” Grant
said.

           
“I don’t want Jason any more involved. He’s done enough,”
I said, looking across the table at him.

He shrugged and flashed
his cocky grin. “You’re a woman of mystery and a damsel in distress. Who can
resist that combination?”

Dominic tensed up next
to me and it was my turn to place a hand on his knee and give him a reassuring
caress, actually it was a hard squeeze to convey the message: calm down and
stay in your chair.

He captured my hand
with his and laced our fingers together. Since it was too dark for Jason to see
this contact, I allowed it in order to keep Dom on topic.
 
He slowly ran his thumb up and down along the
side of my hand, like he used to do when we were driving around in his Mustang,
and I couldn’t deny the heat that gesture generated elsewhere.

Jason continued, “I’ll
work it out with my dad so you can stay here indefinitely, but that’s about all
I can do, unless you need a lawyer.”

           
“Thanks, man,” Grant said. “We’ll need to bring Chelsea
here too just in case anything happens at their apartment.”

           
“Chelsea knows?” Dom asked, pulling his hand away and
turning to face me.