Reckless & Ruined (36 page)

It was fucking tedious.

Snail-slow, penny-counting tedious.

There were so many little details to manage with the crew and all the while, an eye had to be kept on every man, making sure the money came in on time and shit was running smooth … tedious. Adriano didn’t remember it being this much work when he followed Kolin around.

“Who are you looking at to win?” Adriano asked, nodding at the television.

Ryan held up a hand as one of his three phones rang. He didn’t even look at the phones, just grabbed the one screeching and picked it up.

“Yeah, Ry here.” Ryan nodded, scribbled something onto one of his books and said, “That’s going to be twelve-twenty-five.”

Adriano waved at the waitress passing their table and asked for a drink.

“Listen, the line is twenty-five, so either you pay or don’t,” Ryan barked. “Make it up, it’s not my problem. You know where I’m at. I’ll be here for the rest of the night.”

Ryan hung up the call and tossed his phone back to the table.

“The high lines are going to fucking kill us,” Ryan said after a moment.

“Maybe not. If they want to play bad enough, they’ll pay.”

“True. We good?”

Adriano nodded. “I’ll be back next Friday. Don’t fuck me on the bottom line, Ryan.”

The bookie smirked. “I would never.”

“I should hope not. The last bookie got his fingers cut off for skimming. Kolin made a necklace out of them and made the guy wear them for a week before he finally put the fool out of his misery. I watched—it was interesting.”

Ryan’s amusement faded fast. “It’ll all be on the up, Skip.”

“Make sure of it.”

“I’ll have the books all out so you can see,” Ryan said.

Adriano knew the guy wouldn’t screw him over, but sometimes, he felt the need to remind people of what would happen if they tried. Fear was a great motivator in that way. Standing from the table, Adriano took the drink the waitress brought to him.

“On the house, Conti,” the girl said.

Her smile was too wide and she seemed to have tugged her shirt down a little lower from what it was before she disappeared behind the bar.

Adriano wasn’t interested.

“Have a good night, Tori,” Adriano said.

He downed the whiskey in one go, handed her back the glass, and made his way out of the bar. The early October night was chilly and a wind whipped harshly, making Adriano tighten his leather jacket and shove his hands in his pockets.

Winter was coming way too soon.

Adriano slid inside his unlocked, still-running Camaro. Nobody was stupid enough to steal his baby in these streets. They all knew who he was on sight. And they knew his car. Turning the heaters up a little higher, he enjoyed the hot air blasting into his face as he surveyed the busy street filled with people. Chicago was a melting pot for all different characters.

He pulled his coat off and tossed it into the passenger seat. His night wasn’t even close to being over yet. Another group in the Conti crew was planning a heist on a truck of electronics later that evening and a shipment of narcotics had finally passed through the right hands and got on their territory.

Adriano needed to oversee all that shit.

Yeah, tedious.

The ring of his cell phone from inside his jacket pocket brought him from his thoughts. Adriano almost ignored it, figuring it was just another one of his guys wanting something else, but he searched for the phone anyway.

Adriano didn’t bother to look at the screen as he picked up the call with, “Yeah, Conti speaking. Get it out and fast. I’m fucking busy.”

He put his car in forward and began to maneuver the vehicle out of the tight space.

“Adriano?”

Alessa’s soft, timid voice made Adriano slam on the breaks. Something in her tone was off. It tasted of distress and he didn’t like that at all.

“Alessa?” he asked.

“He did it again,” Alessa whispered.

A car honked their horn behind Adriano. He rolled down his window enough to flip them the middle finger.

“Who did what?” Adriano demanded.

“Dean,” she said quickly and quietly. “Not like the last time, but he might have if—”

“The last time,” he interjected. “Like the club last time?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

What the fuck was it like then?

Adriano’s rage grew into a hot ball in his midsection. “What happened?”

“He noticed the ring.”

Fuck.

“And?” he pressed.

Alessa’s laugh was bitter and sad. “He squeezed my hand hard enough to leave bruises and he cut my palms with his fingernails.”

Sweet Jesus.

Adriano’s anger blew out of control, but his guilt was close behind. He knew better than to take that goddamn ring away and leave Alessa to deal with the consequences, but his selfishness and possessiveness demanded he take the fucking thing.

“But he was angry, Adriano. He would have come at me had someone not been there. I know it.”

“When did this happen?”

“This afternoon,” Alessa explained.

“And you’re only telling me now?”

“He forced me out to dinner with him, but I got Abriella to tag along. And then he cut it short, saying something about work or whatever.”

Thank fucking God
, Adriano thought.

“Who was around when it happened, Lissa?”

“The cook. She explained it away with an excuse about me losing it making stuff for Joel’s party next week.”

“Party?” he asked.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Alessa said. “But Joel mentioned opening the books a few days ago.”

Adriano’s jaw ticked as his hand tightened around the steering wheel. There had been rumors on the streets about the books being opened, but no one had any real confirmation about it.

“If she’s cooking, that means she intends for it to happen there, right?” Adriano asked.

“I would think so.”

Adriano’s initiation into the Outfit had also happened inside the Trentini home. He could remember in fine detail the events of that night. His palm had been cut from the tip of his index finger all the way down to his wrist. He then watched his blood pour across the face of a burning saint as questions were thrown at him one after the other from more men than he cared to count.

The scar was still there, but faded.

The honking of a horn echoed behind Adriano’s Camaro. He flipped the idiot the middle finger again. The fool, whoever it was, could wait.

“I don’t want him to do this to me again,” Alessa said, a heat coloring up her words. “Ever, Adriano. I’m so fucking stressed out I can’t even eat or stay awake in the daytime. It frightened me enough today that I got physically sick from it.”

Adriano held his breath, refusing to let the string of cusses roll off his tongue like he wanted. That, and Alessa didn’t need to hear it. Clearly she had a rough enough day as it was.

Dean wouldn’t get the chance to do that to Alessa again.

Adriano would make sure of it.

“You’re okay right now?” he asked.

“Yeah. I just needed to talk to you.”

Dean earned his goddamn death tonight. He supposed it was time to give the Artino bastard exactly what he deserved. Adriano had waited far too long to deliver some pain on Dean as it was. He’d waited for his father’s call, but Riley hadn’t given it yet. Maybe he never would.

Adriano was done waiting.

You couldn’t hurt an angel and expect to survive it.

Adriano checked the clock on the dash. “It’s late, pretty girl. Get some sleep, hmm? I’ll call you tomorrow after you’ve had some time to rest.”

“Okay,” she murmured, a hint of a smile in her tone.

“I love you.”

He figured she needed to hear that again, too.

“Love you,” Alessa whispered.

Adriano cruised the streets of South Shore, knowing he’d find who he was looking for if he was patient enough. Dean Artino was a fucking nobody in Adriano’s world. He didn’t have any real status or power, and Dean’s father didn’t scare Adriano, either.

But Dean was still a soldier for the DeLuca crew. That meant, if he was working, he’d be at one of his usual haunts or dirtying up the streets of his regular grounds. Dean seemed to favor the outskirts of South Beach.

That’s where Adriano went looking for him.

The moment Adriano saw a face he recognized stepping out of a strip joint, he jerked his car over to the side of the road, left it running in hostile territory, and got out. Adriano left his gun in the car, figuring he wouldn’t need it right then.

“Hey!” Adriano barked.

The enforcer Adriano recognized, a guy who worked for the DeLuca crew, turned at the call. The guy’s eyes widened when he saw Adriano making his way across the parking lot.

It was fucking stupid.

So reckless.

Adriano knew better than to be causing issues in someone else’s territory, but he couldn’t calm the rage waging a war inside his head and heart.

Screw Dean.

It was over for him.

“Where the fuck is Artino?” Adriano asked.

The enforcer blinked. “What?”

“Artino, asshole. Where is he tonight?”

“Walter?”

“No, his useless cunt of a son,” Adriano growled.

Adriano stopped walking when he was toe-to-toe with the enforcer. The guy was built like a brick shit house and tall, too. It didn’t matter to Adriano. He was just as tall and built, too. All those years of football playing a line-backer toughened him up and he wasn’t afraid of a hit.

“Are you fucking deaf?” Adriano asked.

“No.”

“Then stop staring at me like I’m not speaking English, you idiot. Where is Artino?”

The enforcer looked Adriano up and down like maybe the guy was thinking of taking a swing. “I’m pretty sure I’m drunk.”

“You don’t know the difference?” Adriano asked, sneering.

“No, but there’s a Conti on DeLuca territory and everybody knows Theo said he’d kill any fucker who was stupid enough to cross over.”

Adriano smirked. “Theo isn’t here.”

“Good thing for you.”

He wasn’t worried about Theo DeLuca tonight. They would battle that shit out another day.

“Where is Dean?” Adriano demanded. “And if I have to ask again, I’m going to break my knuckles on all of your teeth. Do you get that?”

“Last I heard, he was in Calumet Heights working some shit.”

“Where in the Heights?”

The enforcer laughed. “You ever been there?”

Yes.

It was not a particularly safe place at night sometimes.

“I didn’t realize I was playing twenty questions,” Adriano said.

“You’ll find him,” the enforcer replied. “Dean likes to make people think he owns the place. Just watch the streets, Conti. You shouldn’t be here. Take that as your only warning.”

Adriano was already walking back to his car before the enforcer had finished talking. He had a job to do, and that didn’t include worrying about Theo DeLuca.

Adriano could feel the cold air wrapping around his still form as he sat in his car, waiting. He’d parked his car between two other dark colored vehicles, turned off the engine and cut the lights to keep from being noticed. Or rather, he hoped someone who recognized his old, restored Camaro would just pass it by.

So far, he’d done okay.

Adriano found Dean like the enforcer said he would. Apparently Dean was collecting payments from dealers on the corners with another man from Theo’s crew. A guy Adriano knew Theo DeLuca kept close, like a best friend.

Sometimes, with things like this, it was all about the wait.

There was a problem with waiting, too. The longer Adriano sat there, watching Dean collect cash as the fool leaned against the window of a shoddy looking apartment building, the bigger his anger grew.

For the marks on Alessa’s face that had faded.

For the ones Dean had put on her today.

For making Alessa scared or treating her like she was shit.

For Dean thinking he had any right to Adriano’s girl.

For fucking breathing.

Adriano had a dozen more reasons. He had a whole list. These were good enough. These were more than enough to make his body numb with rage and his mind colder than ice. It was simply enough to kill the man.