Ties That Bind (3 page)

His answer was almost inaudible...but just almost. “When indeed?”

Mitch whirled on him. “What does that mean?  What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing, Mitch. If you want Vinetti, I know better than to argue with you over something like that.”

“Mike-” Mitch was over him now, his tall, muscular frame easily dwarfing his superior. He put his hands in his pockets, hoping not to look quite as menacing as he knew he probably was. It wasn’t intentional – he just hadn’t been able to knock the edge off since hearing the gruesome details of Coppell’s death…and knowing it could have easily been prevented. He offered a half smile but Mike was already backing away from him. “Look-”

“Just forget it,” he raised his hands, palms facing forward. “Did you know James Vinetti killed a guy the other night?  He’d been with him for years.”

“I’d imagine Vinetti’s killed lots of guys, Mike.”

“This one had copped a plea with us. He and his girlfriend have been missing for days now. They were about to be relocated when some of Jimmie’s men nabbed them.”

Mitch shrugged, cataloging the information in his brain but then dismissing it. “That’s what they get for copping a fucking plea and not high tailing it out of town. Did they expect Jimmie to just sit back and wait for the subpoenas to start rolling in?”

“He’s a loose cannon,” Mike grumbled and tossed Mitch his coat, “and you have one screwed up way of looking at things.”

“I look at things in whatever manner keeps me alive, Mike. Nothing more sadistic than that.”

CHAPTER THREE

Soft red lights flickered overhead, blanketing the bar area of Russo’s restaurant in a cloudy haze perfect for imbibing in an enormous amount of alcohol. Undoubtedly, that was what the owner Vitale Russo had counted on when he planned the upscale establishment. He’d even thought to lay an iridescent marble floor to enhance the bar’s dreamy feel. To Mitch, it seemed more like a scene out of bad sleaze flick.

“Hey, Vitale, you ever think of springing for some decent lighting in this place?” he asked, sinking down at the corner of the bar.

“Mr. Kerlin, welcome. It’s good to have you back in the States.” Vitale dropped his apron and shook Mitch’s hand, grinning widely.

“It’s good to be back. I spent much more time up north and I’d lose my citizenship, I think. Damned desolate place that Canada.”

“What can I get for you tonight?  Just visiting the neighborhood?”

Mitch raised an eyebrow… there was no way Vitale didn’t know that he and the Vinettis were having dinner at his place. Vitale prided himself on knowing everything worth knowing that happened in a ten block radius. “Give me a whiskey sour, would you?”

“Sure,” he nodded and started pouring the drink before dropping his voice. “So you and Vinetti, hm?”

“It’s just dinner, Vitale,” he laughed. “You’re as bad as the ladies down at the corner grocery, you know it?”

“Pays to be informed around here, Mr. Kerlin. You know that.”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Mitch chuckled and traded the glass Vitale offered for a fifty-dollar bill. “What’s newsworthy these days?”

“These days?” he leaned over the bar, closer to Mitch. “Vinetti, of course. He’s taken over the whole area since Terenari moved out. With you, everyone’s guessing he’s aiming for Vancouver as well.”

“Ambitious guy,” Mitch commented thoughtfully. “But Terenari’s been gone since I was a teenager. It’s about time somebody tried to start getting this place organized again.”

He eyed Vitale curiously, wondering exactly what part of Vinetti’s dealings had already been made public knowledge. “Heard he offed someone a couple of days ago.”

Vitale nodded, crossing himself before replying. “Alex, Alizondo, Masseria. Feel bad for the kid. He had a brand new wife and a child on the way. But,” he shrugged, “you mess with the feds and you are always gonna get what’s coming to you.”

Mitch nodded and pushed his glass out for a refill. His eyes swept over the restaurant, noting a dozen or so unfamiliar faces sitting along the walls of the restaurant proper. He nodded toward them. “You having problems down here or something?”

“Vinetti’s men,” he murmured. “They’re everywhere these days. Jimmie doesn’t seem too worried but he watches out for that sister of his like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Commendable action.”

Vitale laughed. “Damned irritating woman. Great business mind but she’s just a bit forward for the neighborhood women, you know what I mean?  Personally, I think Jimmie’s just waiting to strangle her himself.  The two of them fight like cats and dogs.”

“You ever met a brother and sister who didn’t?” Mitch asked laughing as the whiskey finally started to numb his practiced nonchalance.

Vitale laughed but dropped his head and moved away from Mitch’s side. He was scrubbing the already sparkling bar as if his life suddenly depended on it. He was intent on the same spot, his ferocious scouring causing squeaky vibrations to drift down the bar. Mitch caught him glancing at him from beneath shielded eyes, his eyes a mixture of apprehension and confusion. When he opened his mouth and closed it again for the third time, Mitch could stand it no longer and chuckled out loud.

“What, Vitale?”

“Nothing.”

“Vitale, you keep a secret about as well as the ladies in the beauty parlor. Come on, what gives?”

He glanced around uneasily. Seeing no one, he moved around the bar to sit on a stool beside Mitch. “You know I like you, Mitch,” he said softly, as if afraid others might overhear them. “I’ve known you since we was kids. But you got a lot of people around here on edge right now.”

“How’s that?”

“Coppell takes a bullet, you hold up with Markesi over in Atlantic and now you’re meeting with the Vinettis here in New York?  Come on, you know Markesi and the Vinettis have got tons of bad blood between them.” He fell quiet, as if expecting Mitch to explain his actions.

“No, Vitale, I didn’t know that.” Mitch frowned then took a sip of his drink. “So much for a relaxing plate of calamari, huh?”

“Vinetti’s not going to cause you problems. Hell, he’s probably as curious as everyone else as to why you’re back in the States to begin with.”

Mitch grinned and stepped away from the bar. “That is one of those things you’ll just have to keep guessing at, Vitale. Give my best to your mother, will you?”

Mitch gave him a hug before turning towards the main doorway. Ashli and Jimmie hadn’t arrived yet but Mitch’s practiced eye had seen the men in the room starting to shuffle their positions, most of them now standing along the wall rather than the relaxed seated position they had held previously. Only the appearance of their boss would have caused them to move. He made it to the door just as Ashli stepped in, her diminutive frame silhouetted in a red sequined dress that reached the floor. Even for Russo’s, she was overdressed. No wonder the women in the neighborhood didn’t like her – there wasn’t a woman around that Ashli wouldn’t overshadow. She stepped back when she saw him, caught off guard by his presence.

“Mr. Kerlin-”

“Mitch,” he corrected, kissing her hand. “It’s nice to see you again. Vitale already has a table waiting for us.”

She nodded behind her where two men were talking quietly on the steps. “My brother Jimmie is joining us; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Certainly,” Mitch smiled as if this was suddenly news to him. “The remainder of the restaurant seems to be your employees as well.”

She frowned but it was only a moment before it dissolved into a winning smile. “Are they?  We have so many employees.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“What’s dangerous?” Jimmie’s curt voice cut in as he shuffled through the door to stand between the two.

“Not knowing who your employees are.”

“I keep telling her that,” Jimmie sent him a crooked grin. “Jimmie Vinetti.”

“Mitch Kerlin. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Vitale!” Jimmie yelled without bothering to shake Mitch’s hand. “Do us right here. Give us some drinks, will ya?”

“Of course, Mr. Vinetti. Marco here will show you to your table.”

Mitch glanced to Vitale who seemed unnerved by Jimmie’s brusque orders. He cast a sideways glance to Mitch, who waved him off with a silent smile. Even Ashli seemed tense and, as they walked into the main dining room, the atmosphere seemed to drape over the entire Vinetti group before they even sat down. Mitch considered, weighed his options, and finally decided the best approach was probably just to get the idiotic questions out of the way to begin with.

“Mr. Vinetti-”

“Jimmie,” he corrected without even glancing Mitch’s direction.

“Jimmie, while I appreciate the dinner invitation,” he offered a sideways smile to Ashli but she was gazing at the wall, paying them no mind, “if I’m liable to get my head blown off for just having dinner with you I’d appreciate some advance notice.”

Jimmie’s gray eyes cut toward him, glinting dangerously. He stared at Mitch in unnerving silence and not until after the drinks had been served did he bother to respond.

“We have strengthened security for my sister’s benefit. It’s only a temporary measure. If it bothers you-”

He held a hand up. “Not at all. I just prefer to know what’s headed my way.”

Jimmie nodded and leaned back in his chair, nudging Ashli in the side to get her attention. “You were right. He’s a good looking kid. He wears black tie well.”

“Oh, just shut up, Jimmie,” Ashli’s voice burned with fury, causing Mitch to glance her way. She offered him a smile. “Jimmie is the world’s worst brother. He insists on trying to embarrass me every chance he gets as if we were still fifteen.”

“He seems to take your safety seriously enough,” he countered and noticed her grimace.

“So, Mitch, tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

“I’m currently between positions,” he replied, grabbing a menu and pointing to what he wanted before Vitale could disappear again.

“You do dress exceptionally well for the unemployed,” Ashli laughed. “Perhaps you could give Jimmie some pointers.”

Sending a scathing look her direction, Jimmie sat higher in his seat. “Where did you work?”

“Coppell Management.”

“Jeffrey Coppell,” Ashli provided as if they hadn’t already had this conversation.

“Thank you for that timely clarification,” he spat, his anger flaring. “Why don’t you go fix your face or something?”  He didn’t wait for an answer or pay her any attention as she stormed off to the restroom. “What did you do?”

“Security.”

Jimmie’s face lit into a lopsided smile. “Coppell’s dead.”

“Not on my watch,” he returned. His eyes were still on the path Ashli had taken, noting that none of the guards seemed intent on following her. They seemed much more absorbed in trying to overhear he and Jimmie than anything. “Jimmie-”

“Yeah?” he looked up from the menu he was perusing.

“I’m not one to tell you how to run your business, but…”

“But?” Jimmie waved away the waiter and dropped the menu to the table.

He nodded toward the door where Ashli had disappeared. “Ashli just-”

At the mention of his sister’s name, Jimmie’s face blanched. He nodded minutely then waved to one of the guards to go after her. He didn’t seem to breathe until he saw them return, Ashli easing past the dining room and heading to the bar.

“You have sisters, Mitch?”

“Not by blood.”

“Lucky you. Mine is determined to be the Rosie Parks of the mafia,” he grumbled, swallowing his drink in one gulp. “She doesn’t always agree with added protection. Makes her quite the bitch actually.”

He shrugged. “Please don’t take this for our normal behavior. We just have-”

“A brother intent on revenge coming after you?” he asked, his gaze steady on Jimmie. He leaned away from the table under the questioning glare. “Security, remember?  It’s my job to know,” he shrugged.

Rather than the anger he anticipated, Jimmie was rocking with laughter. “Don’t you just hate it when people gossip about you?  Fucked up antiquated life when other people know your business more than your own family does, isn’t it?”

Mitch didn’t respond but sipped his glass of merlot, his eyes intent on the flickering candles in the middle of the table, his mind wondering if perhaps Mike hadn’t been right. Vinetti, rumored to be one of the most organized, well-structured outfits on the east coast, seemed to be coming apart at the seams. It wasn’t really what he was hearing – the internal fighting between the two Vinettis, or the federal intervention, or the inept security detail – that gave him the most pause.

Instead, it was the seclusion of the whole evening that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Not a single customer had entered Russo’s since Jimmie’s arrival. It was as if the entire neighborhood knew the Vinettis were doing business here and had purposefully kept miles away from the restaurant.

Mitch knew better than to think it was out of respect. People were afraid of the Vinettis. While fear was something he was accustomed to seeing on the streets when big named mafioso were involved, the absence of any activity near Jimmie was unnerving. Publicity, even the bad kind, helped keep Mitch safe. It was in seclusion that he could easily disappear and not even be missed for a week or more.