For Adriano (12 page)

CHAPTER 12

Adriano

The windshield wipers glide swiftly across the window as I stop my car at the curb, right in front of the ATM where Cam withdrew money a while ago. Thick raindrops fall from the sky.

The ATM is located on the corner at a small bank that’s closed now. The apartment complexes are in restorative state in this poor neighborhood. Cars pass me, and I check the line of shops across the street. A closed clothing store, an open supermarket, and a tiny café that’s open yet deserted.

I grab my Smith & Wesson from the passenger seat where it’s lying on my suit jacket and store it in my ankle holster. Stepping out, I shake out my pant leg to hide my weapon properly and run with the rain wetting my dress shirt to the cafe across the street.

Inside, there’s a teenage barista and two occupied seats. I make my way to the counter and pull Cam’s picture up on my phone.

“Hey, can I help you?” the barista asks softly and gawks at me when she looks up.

I smile nicely, holding up my phone with Cam’s face on the screen. “I just have a question. Have you seen this woman today?”

She checks it, and her eyes round in recognition.

I keep holding the phone up and lift a brow, waiting for her to spit it out.

“Yeah, she was here for a couple of hours.”

“What time?” I press impatiently, eager for as much information as I can get my hands on.

“I’m not sure, in the afternoon.”

“When did she leave?”

“Maybe about an hour ago or longer.”

“Did she leave alone?” I insist on finding out more.

“No, she left with a huge man in a black suit. He came in here, and she went with him.”

“Willingly?”

“Uhm…yes.”

“Did they talk? Did you hear anything about where they were going? Names?”

“Not really. I remember her because she’s so pretty. And she was in here for a weirdly long time.”

The scenario is forming. She wanted to get caught. And it looks like Fat Sal – whose soldiers walk around like Men in Black – got to her first.

I throw a fifty onto the counter. “For the information.” And go back to my car and get in, connecting the phone to the charger and firing the engine simultaneously.

As I make a U-turn, a car honks when I block its path.

“Fuck off!” I yell, irritably.

I’m about to call to inform James when ‘Fat Sal’ flashes across the smartphone screen.

“Yes.” I want to check to see if he tells me he has Cam.

“Adriano, I have some good news for you,” he answers in a friendly tone.

“Yeah, what?” I’m skating red lights through the pouring rain.

“I’ve got Camilla Guillermo.”

My confirmation. “I’m coming, Sal. There better not be a scratch on her. Keep her there; I’m on my way.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

I call James quickly.

“Adriano, where are you?” he asks urgently.

“On my way back to the Loop. To Club 7. Sal’s soldier got to her before I did. Sal just called me.”

“Fuck!” He voices his anger. “I’m turning around. Whoever gets there first goes in and takes her away without letting Sal know how important she is to me. Just go along with him and make sure she’s safe!” And he hangs up.

My only priority is ensuring that she’s not in jeopardy and with me as soon as possible. Beyond that, I don’t let anything interfere with my goal. My anger dissipates at the expectation of finally finding her. Of finally seeing her again.

***

I’m not even sure I locked my car after jumping out. Walking through the long hall of the back entrance of Club 7, I approach the archway where a hostess in a tight black suit expects me to hand over my handgun and knife. The archway is the metal detector, and no one is allowed downstairs with weapons. This is why James ordered me to play along. I’ll be without back-up: no men and no weapon. And we’re definitely on the same page that getting Cam out of here in one piece is my main concern.

The hostess presses the elevator button, and I descend alone.

When the doors open, Sal’s awaiting my arrival. “Adriano.”

“Sal.”

He precedes the way to his office, which is empty, much to my chagrin.

“Where is she?” My patience is at its limit, knowing that I’m so close to Cam.

He motions outside. “Third room to the left.”

“I want to see her.” I don’t care about rank or Mafia propriety at the moment; I need to see that she’s okay. But I’m also divulging now how important she is to us. I need to convince him that I just want retribution for the bomb she planted at my headquarters.

“Cam’s a little shaken. You can check on her,” he replies with thinning eyes.

I attempt to get a grip on my state of my mind and capture my
Capo
role. “I’ll be back to discuss what to do with her.” I need him to believe she’s just a pawn who needs to account for her actions against the Syndicate.

While a storm of emotions bleed inside my body, I go to the third door on the left.

The room is empty except for a bed and a boudoir chair, and there’s another closed door – the bathroom. I can hear movement in there, so I close the door to the room quietly after I enter.

Feet shuffle while I wait with a bizarre sensation in my chest; tautness, turbulence, and warmth.

The knob turns slowly, and after nine months, I lay eyes on the one woman that’s managed to hold my attention span for longer than a fuck.

She stands in a satin robe that reveals a sliver of skin and studies me while I boldly scan her from head to toe for injuries, seeing none.

“It’s been a long time, Cam.” My voice is low because of the lump in my throat as we lock eyes.

I take a tentative step forward, and she doesn’t speak or move. I can see her emotions flicker across her beautiful heart shaped face. The one face that I can’t seem to forget. After all this time, seeing her hits me harder than I ever thought possible. All our memories come crashing through the tension that’s stifling the room.

Why is she in a robe and not in regular clothes? What was discussed between Cam and Sal? So many questions arise, but I can’t seem to concentrate when she’s within reaching distance, so I say nothing as I inch closer. She stands her ground, but her glare softens with every step I take.

Finally, she comes forward, meeting me, being drawn to me as I’m pulled to her.

Then, I remember Damian. This afternoon, I found out she slept with another man, a soldier in my organization. And my blood simmers again.

Why isn’t she talking?

I swivel her around by her shoulder, and we stand before the floor-length mirror hanging on the wall.

“Cam,” I whisper into her ear from behind, pressing myself against her back, gripping her biceps. “I want to hear your husky voice.”

Her closeness is playing havoc with my mind, and all the longing for this woman bursts out in a flame of jealousy. Her refusal to speak feeds my rage, and finding her on the same day I discovered she slept with another man is making me want to push her boundaries. All rational thoughts were wiped out the moment I saw her again.

Her reflection stares back at me, and she’s noticeably struggling inside. Her rigid body exposes her fear.

My hand slides underneath the edge of the robe that reveals her cleavage, and we both inhale sharply when our skin touches. I palm her breast because I’m unable to control myself while our wills battle with clashing gazes in the mirror. My boiling blood is hurriedly surging south.

Without thinking, I slide the robe off her lean body and seat her on my lap in the chair behind us, facing the mirror.

Cam gasps at my sudden movement, and I spread her legs and place them on either side of mine. She’s straddling me, completely naked, with her back to my front. Anxiousness marks her features, but her heavy breaths betray her lust.

As my hands fondle up her sides and over her breasts, she arches on my lap, and her eyelids fall downwards. I behold her in the mirror, becoming aroused under my touch as she lays her head back against my chest. Both hands move down her stomach, over her inner thighs, the tips of my fingers reaching for her pussy.

My hardening cock demands to feel her, and I unbutton my pants, freeing myself, and rub the head between her legs.

“I’ve missed you.” I wrap both arms around her waist and slide my dick over her pussy, probing her. Not reaching inside, just teasing her.

My god, I’m a fucking masochist. I’m not teasing her, all I’m doing is messing myself up because I’m so close to fucking her pussy and taking back what is mine. And the culmination of the entire last two years plus Damian’s revelation bring my sanity back.

“Why did you do it?” I mutter, burying my nose into her hair.

Why did you sleep with him?

I’m fully clothed except for my unfastened slacks, and she’s so wet for me. She bites her lip as a tear leaks from the corner of her eye, and it’s like a bucket of water wakes me up from our lustful liaison.

Why isn’t she stopping me?

I stop rubbing my cock against her when reason slowly returns. My head falls forward, lips resting on her shoulder. She’s still shutting me out with her eyes closed, but her hands are on my arms around her middle, holding me in a death grip as if she never wants me to let go.

Fuck!
I need to get moving.

I whisper against the shell of her ear, “I’m taking you from here. Will you come willingly?”

Her eyes fly open, full of distress.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but we need to hurry. Go get dressed and meet me in Sal’s office.” I urge her up by her hips, ignoring the electrical current between us that’s distracting my intention.

She runs to the bathroom.

After buttoning my pants, I rake my fingers through my hair to regain some composure. I always let her screw with my mind.

She needs to get dressed because James was close behind me and could come in here any moment. And if she tells James about this escapade of mine, I’m a dead man.

I return to Sal’s office. Only, he’s not there.

“He’ll be back in a minute,” the guard at the door informs.

“I’m in a hurry,” I answer, agitatedly checking my watch.

One minute turns into three, and when Cam also doesn’t enter, worry sets in. Just as I’m about to get her myself, Sal strolls in.

“Sorry; some business needed my attention,” Sal comments.

I’m about to pass him when Cam appears in washed jeans and a purple shirt. Her pale face relays either fear or disbelief.

We need to leave
now
.

“Well,” Sal says as he plops his oversized body into the leather chair. “You were looking for Camilla Guillermo. I helped you locate her.” He stops when James storms inside.

They shake hands, but Cam’s watching it all with distrust, and her mouth is set as if she ate something nasty.

“I was just telling Adriano how I helped you locate Camilla,” Sal repeats to James.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Sal. But I don’t have much time, and she comes with me to be held accountable for her actions against the Syndicate.”

James avoids mentioning he owes Fat Sal something since debts are toxic in our business. And we don’t know owe him, anyway; something is clearly up between Cam and Sal.

Sal keeps a straight face and seems a little shocked by James’s refusal to speak of a debt.

But James is determined and motions for us to follow.

I gesture to Cam to move when she hesitates, and we walk to the elevator and ascend.

James and I collect our weapons, and I spot James’s car parked behind mine when we make it outside without any trouble. Both James and I let out a ragged breath.

“She comes with me,” James says and holds open the passenger door for Cam.

Cam turns to me, and I think she wants reassurance from me, so I nod.

“Meet me at headquarters.” He shuts the door while Cam sits with a crease in her forehead.

I get into my own car and curse. “Shit!”

Now I won’t have another moment alone with her. To tell her I never told anyone about her scars. To tell her about who we are. To give her a little warning about what’s to come.

I shift the car into ‘drive’, hoping she isn’t speaking with James during their ride.

CHAPTER 13

Camilla

I dash off Adriano’s lap and into the bathroom.

What the hell is going on?

My flushed mirror image scowls back at me. His touch is still palpable on my thighs and stomach. I’ve missed him with a fierceness I’ve never experienced. And while I’m scared to find out what he has in store for me, he still managed to sexually provoke me within seconds.

I shake my head and go with my instinct. Between Sal and Adriano, I’d rather leave with Adriano than stay here. But what about Santino? I can’t desert him here. Without him, I wouldn’t have escaped this hellhole in the first place.

I throw on my clothes but shriek when the wall opens behind me; I can see it in the mirror. There’s a hidden door that reveals Sal, who covers my mouth with his sweaty hand and drags me to another room. It’s a small space, and Santino’s slouching in a chair with the guard next to him.

Uselessly, I grab Sal’s arm to remove his hand from my mouth.

“Be still and keep quiet. I didn’t touch you, because you’re more valuable in one piece than you are dead. Listen to me. You did good, didn’t make a sound when you spread your legs for Adriano. You’re more than just a pretty face,” he practically spits in my face.

Santino’s head is pulled back by his hair. He’s conscious and looks straight at me.

Sal continues, “This is what’s going to happen. I want someone inside the Chicago Syndicate, and you’re going to be my spy. They’re too powerful and untouchable. I want to know the hierarchy and the drug routes. I want to know who’s the boss there. Adriano, Luca, or James? And you also have a beef with them, I hear, dear Cam. You planted a bomb at their headquarters. Let me tell you that they’re more infamous in the
Cosa Nostra
than Club 7. When I finally found you, you led us to the Chicago Syndicate’s headquarters. But because of them, I couldn’t get to you. I was wondering why they gave you twenty-four seven protection while it seemed like you were just an employee at that house.”

I frown when I learn a new piece of information: Chicago Syndicate had me guarded around the clock while I worked for them?

“However, I witnessed you with Adriano. He had a weakness for you, and you for him. You are quite the ingénue. Men fall at your feet, even poor Santino here,” Sal mocks with a low chuckle.

The guard raises his fist and hits Santino in the cheek so hard that his head shoots to the side.

“Noo!” My scream is muffled by Sal’s hand while I claw at his arm.

“Yes, Camilla, you will do this for me or else I’ll torture Santino and kill your precious Adriano in front of your eyes. Do you want them both to die?”

Santino takes blows to his face until his eye is swollen shut.

“Camilla!” Sal whisper-yells, forcing a reaction from me.

Anything to keep them from killing this man right now. Santino’s pain cuts through me, and the moment Sal lifts his hand, I yell, “Stop! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” I’m catching my breath as Santino grunts in pain.

“Perfect! Now as insurance...” Sal comments, trailing off.

I step forward to touch Santino, but my fingers redirect to my lower back when I feel a stinging pain. The guard holds me steady by my arms while something sharp pierces my skin. I crane my neck, seeing blood being wiped, and I gasp when a cold residue is sprayed on my lower back and the area goes numb; some kind of freezing powder that stops the bleeding.

“You have a microscopic tracking device in you. I’ll know everything, so don’t even think about betraying me. I’ll contact you when I need you. You keep your mouth shut about our deal and find me documentation of the Chicago Syndicate drug routes. Betray me, and Santino dies. And there’s a bounty on Adriano’s head if I die. Either way, if you don’t obey, it’ll be your fault both men die.”

My brain has a hard time grasping what’s being said.

My fingers are covered with blood.

“Clean your hands and come back to my office,” Sal orders impatiently, and when I don’t move, he barks, “Now!”

I return to the bathroom while inwardly promising Santino that I’ll find a way to help him. I wash my hands hurriedly and splash water on my pale face. Fear has caused all the blood to drain from my cheeks, but I don’t have time at the moment to figure out the dangerous Mafia dispute I’m in the middle of.

Running back to the office, I enter it hastily while everything is happening around me.

Sal speaks as if I’m not present. “I helped you locate her.”

Then the
Capo crimine
that has been looking for me shows up as well, providing me an unreadable glance. The entire conversation is odd, and I don’t understand the relationship between James, Adriano, and Sal. But Adriano keeps his promise and gets me out of there, and as I leave, Sal mock salutes me.

With James and Adriano at my side, we escape the club, and I sigh in relief and sorrow. Relief because I’m out of there. Sorrow because Santino is still stuck in there, and I don’t know what will be my fate.

“She comes with me.” James motions me inside his car.

I’m not sure why, but I gaze at Adriano, wordlessly asking him to take me with him instead. He recognizes my silent plea and signals for me to go with James.

***

The rounded driveway of the Syndicate’s three-story headquarters comes into view.

Over an hour in this silent car with James peculiarly stealing glimpses of me and the lack of restraints has me wondering what his plans are for me.

He pulls the key from the ignition and turns to me as Adriano pulls up behind us. “We have a lot to talk about. Please follow me to my office.”

We head into the house. Adriano’s right behind me when we go up the stairs to James’s office on the second floor.

“Please sit, Camilla.” He points to cushioned chairs at his desk as he sits behind it.

My eyes dart around cautiously, and Adriano closes the door. I’ve never been in this large office, lined with bookcases and furnished elegantly in reddish brown wood.

“Camilla,” James demands my attention with a firm, yet gentle, tone.

I look at him, wondering my fate.

“We’re not going to hurt you. Please don’t look so distressed. I have a lot to explain, but first, are you okay? What happened with Sal?” His voice is supportive, encouraging.

“Breathe, Cam,” Adriano urges, standing close behind me.

I release the breath I was unknowingly holding. “What’s going to happen?” The first thing I’ve said to either one of them.

“We have a lot to discuss.” James nods his chin to the door, indicating for Adriano to leave.

My panic intensifies because I want him to stay, and my hand searches for his.

Adriano bends his head to catch my eyes.

“Can he stay?” I ask James but keep my focus on Adriano.

I hear James sighing. “Fine.”

Adriano squeezes my hand comfortingly, and we take our seats.

“Camilla, you’re going to have to talk to us about the bomb we found,” James instructs.

I swallow the brick in my throat, and Adriano leans one elbow on the armrest, rubbing his stubble as he examines me.

“That was an accident. The device fell out of my pocket that night I was outside with Fallon,” I explain honestly.

James’s eyes narrow in doubt. “What kind of bomb was it? We couldn’t find it.”

“It was a square box covered with hard, black plastic that could fit into my hand. And it was heavy.”

Adriano and James share a meaningful look, then James continues, “Were you hiding from us these last nine months?”

“Yes.” I was hiding from them
too
.

James’s brows climb halfway up his forehead in amazement of that revelation. “So you know who we are?”

“Yes.” This is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with James. I rarely saw him while I worked here, and there was always awkwardness between us. He’d regard me in an odd way, just like he is now. For a
Capo crimine
, he’s got soft people skills.

“Who are we then?” Adriano asks calmly.

“The Chicago Syndicate.”

“Do you know who you are?” James comments out of the blue.

I frown at the vague and unexpected question. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know who your parents are?” James elaborates.

My gaze moves back and forth between the two men. What do these men know about my parents that I don’t? I only knew my mother; Adriano’s aware of that. “No, only my mother.” My voice is growing stronger as my stress from the day recedes.

“I know more about your father,” James reveals and leans forward.

“What, then? And what does he have to do with the bomb?” I’m completely thrown.

“Because it’s me,” James answers carefully.

My mouth drops open, and nothing comes out. James is my father? The
Capo crimine
of the Chicago Syndicate is my father? He’s quite in shape and doesn’t look old enough to have a twenty-eight year old daughter. But his black hair is streaked with silver, so I wonder how old he is?

“How can you be my father? How old are you?” I blurt and press my lips together.

A snicker escapes Adriano, and James sends him a damning glare.

“Old enough to be your father. I was twenty-seven when you were born.”

A million questions flow through my head. “You always knew I was your daughter?”

James angles his head to the side. “Do you mean since you were born? No. Did I know the entire time you worked here? Yes. I discovered it a few days before I found you at your job – from which I deliberately got you fired so you would come work for me. I wanted to get to know you before I disclosed our tie, but my work absorbs most of my time, and we never got the chance.”

He gives me a moment to let it all sink in. My former employer never gave me a plausible reason for firing me, because James probably paid him off. I remember Sal saying that the Chicago Syndicate had me guarded twenty-four seven. That would make sense if I
am
James’s daughter. But I need more proof.

“What’s my mom’s name? And how did you know her?” I ask.

“Claudia was her name. I met her through an acquaintance. I was also already with my wife. Your mother and I were only together for one night. After that, I never heard anything from Claudia again. Until a few years ago, when said acquaintance, whom I haven’t spoken to in years, mentioned our getaway and also told me how your mother had died and apparently left behind a daughter. I had the need to find out more about you. When I discovered your age, I knew there was a good chance you were my blood, so I tracked you down.”

I don’t consider his instinct a reliable form of proof. “I need a paternity test.”

“That’s already been done. We used a sample of your hair.” James opens a desk drawer and slides a white envelope to me.

I take the letter out and read that by ninety-nine point nine percent, Camilla Guillermo is the biological daughter of James Dante Calderone.

Adriano hands me a glass of water.

I didn’t even notice him moving around. Gulping down the drink, I try to process everything. I wanted to stop running. And while I’ve been dreading the worst, this envelope is good news. This is why Adriano said he isn’t going to hurt me; because I’m James’s blood. And blood is important to Italians.

Finally, I meet Adriano’s eyes, but he’s impossible to read.

James coughs, and I think he shot Adriano a dirty look.

Does James know about my past with Adriano? About my scars?

I remember that I still have Santino to consider. Biting my lip, I speculate about my options.

Shit!
The tracking device Sal planted in me.

What if it can transmit sound too? Can it?

If the device is tracking sound, we need to revert this conversation without exposing more information.

“Thanks for the drink. I was thirsty.” I sit forward, hold my palm out, and pretend to write on it, displaying that I need a pen and paper.

A crease forms between James’s brows, so I roll my hand, motioning for him to keep talking.

“I’ll get you more water.” James places a notebook and a pen in front of me, and I write:
I’m in trouble. Sal is blackmailing me. He implanted me with some kind of chip, a tracking device. I don’t know if it transmits sound too?

I show the notebook to Adriano, whose face is right next to mine, making me achingly aware of his commanding presence.

He scowls at the piece of paper and flings the notebook on the desk for James to read.

Adriano haunches beside my chair and mouths, “Blackmailed to do what?”

I grab the notebook and scribble down:
to get documents about this organization’s drug routes and the hierarchy.

And I let Adriano read what I’ve written again.

He then types in his phone and rises to his feet to share it with James, but I stop him by his arm to check what he’s typed. Trust still needs to be built among the three of us.