Chapter 6
6
LAZARO
Thank fuck there seems to be reception down here. The call to Alessio connects after only a couple of rings, his voice quiet. “Lazaro. What’s the status?” I give him a rundown of everything that happened. When I finish, he promises, “We’ll have someone there as fast as we can. How’s Amara?”
The instant jealousy of hearing him say her name has me on edge. While the rational part of me knows that Alessio would never look at Amara with anything more than casual interest—as his woman’s cousin—that doesn’t stop the deep possessiveness that rushes through me. I don’t want her name in another man’s mouth. Not even my best friend’s, no matter how illogical that is. “She’s fine,” I tell him tightly.
Silence echoes down the line just long enough for me to know he’s picked up on the tension. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it and instead replies briskly, “Good. Keep her that way. Send your coordinates to your father, and we’ll have someone on their way to you within a couple of hours.”
Then he’s gone. Except, I know that won’t be the end of it. I’ll hear from him again, wanting to know what the hell is going on.
The man is nosy as shit, and also my best friend, meaning there isn’t much I can keep from him.
I call my father, who answers on the second ring. “Get yourself into some trouble, figlio?” he asks briskly.
“Nothing I can’t handle. Were you worried about me, Papa?” I taunt.
“Worried that I’ll have to deal with your smart mouth sooner rather than later,” he quips back. I can hear movement in the background, and when he murmurs to someone, a grin pulls at my lips.
“Oh, did I interrupt something?” I croon. “Will our new madre be upset?”
“Fuck off,” Papa huffs, but there’s no heat behind his words.
He’s been seeing a new woman for a while now, and this time, he’s kept it carefully under wraps. None of us, or even the Carusos, know who she is. Yet. We’ve been a bit distracted, but the moment things calm down, we’ll be finding out who has seemingly thawed our father’s heart.
After our mother’s death, our father grieved for years. He never so much as looked at another woman. We were old enough to understand, and we didn’t want him to live the rest of his life alone. I remember having a conversation with him when I was sixteen, telling him that we would welcome him starting to date again. He refused, of course, out of concern for Sofia, our baby sister. He didn’t want to confuse her or make her think he was replacing our mother, who was the love of his life.
Still, it wasn’t long before we realized that he may not have been interested in another long-term love, but he was certainly seeing women casually.
This new romance has lasted a few months, so it’s definitely serious. If I were the type to be easily offended, I’d probably be pissed that he hasn’t introduced us yet, but considering my feelings for Amara right now, I’m starting to understand. How can a man want a woman so quickly? It’s a visceral reaction.
Instead of pressing further, I tell him the situation and our coordinates.
“We’re safe in a bunker that they don’t know exists,” I explain. “We have water, so we’re good on that front until someone can get here. We’re hoping we can find some food, but that’s probably a no-go considering how long ago this place was abandoned.”
“Good. And how is Ms. Stanley?” he asks as I hear him typing furiously away.
“She’s fine.”
It feels different hearing my father say her name. I don’t feel the urge to growl at him like I did Alessio.
God, this woman is already under my skin after only a day. I’m starting to understand how Nico and Alessio are so obsessed with their women.
The typing on the other end ceases. “Problem?”
Such a simple question, but there is so much behind it.
“Nope.”
Yeah, definitely not going to tell my father what’s going on in my head or anything more about Amara. She and I have some time to figure shit out, because there is no way I’m leaving this bunker without her.
Besides, I already have a much better handle on this than Alessio did with Sienna.
Because down here, there is nowhere for her to run.
“Hmmm.” He doesn’t sound the least bit convinced, but he lets it drop. “We’re on our way to New York within the hour. Shit’s about to hit the fan, and we need all hands. The sooner we get you back, the better.”
“I haven’t heard yet what’s happening. The hit crew didn’t head toward the house back home?”
“No. We lost all traces of them, but there is a very good chance that they’re heading to New York. My guys are working on it. The biggest development is that Giovanni went to the Russians.”
“The Russians? What the fuck?”
“I’ve already got people trying to figure out what the hell is going on there. But we also found more information on the missing girls. It appears Gia and Sienna have another sister. A twin to the deceased brother, Matteo.”
Damn, I’m missing all the important shit.
“Any leads?”
“No, but Leonardo knows about her, so we’re kicking into high gear to try and find her. My guy is still looking for the fourth girl—the one we think is Amara’s sister. No information has surfaced about her, and it doesn’t look like Marco, Leonardo, or Giovanni have found her. I want to keep it that way.”
“So Leonardo has three daughters, including Gia, and Giovanni has two, including Amara?”
“It appears so, yes. And with the situation in New York getting worse, getting to them before those other bastards is paramount. So the sooner you get here, the better.”
“Alessio said someone will be on their way within a few hours, but with a six-hour flight, then a two-hour drive, it’s going to be at least two days before we get back. Maybe a day and a half if we really push it.”
“We’ll handle things until you get back. I have to go.”
“All right.”
Then, just because I can’t help myself, I add, “Give my love to our new madre. And tell her I’m going to be her favorite. I’m the best one.”
“Fuck off,” he growls at me. “You don’t have enough brains in that big head of yours to be a favorite. A pain in the ass is more like it.”
Then he’s gone, and I chuckle.
I’m about to put my phone away when it rings, the screen flashing Alonzo’s name.
“Alonzo. They’re sending you to get us?”
“Yes,” Alonzo replies briskly. “I should be landing in six hours, and it’s a two-hour drive to your location. I have four men with me, so we’ll have two vehicles. We’ll deal with Marco’s men.”
“All right, I’ll make sure we’re ready,” I reply. “I only saw Marco’s guys, but that doesn’t mean Giovanni or Leonardo haven’t sent their own men this way too, so keep your eyes open. And just to let you know, they roped in the local cops to find us, so be careful. I don’t put it past these fuckers to use them to have you all arrested.”
“Yeah, I got it. Though, them going to the cops is fucking odd.”
I sigh. I don’t want to repeat everything that’s been alleged about Amara, especially when it’s not true, but I can’t keep information from him that might be important. “There’s a rumor going around town that Amara slept with a married man and then slept with his fifteen-year-old son. It’s bullshit, but because the kid is a minor, they want Amara to either get arrested or kicked out of town. Marco’s guys probably figured that out and are trying to use it to their advantage. If they tell people they’re here to get her out of their hair, the fucking cops will hand her over on a silver platter.”
Alonzo is quiet for a moment before he says, “All right, we’ll come in quick and get you both out of there as fast as we can. Don’t need them messing things up. But also, who the fuck makes that kind of shit up?”
“People with a vendetta and too much time on their hands.”
“Clearly. You good?”
“I’m fine. Managed to avoid crashing and getting shot. The bunker is secured, and Marco’s men and the cops don’t know it’s here. If they somehow find it, there is another metal door they would have to breach, and no way do they have the firepower for that. It’s old military.”
“How the fuck did you find it?” I hear him moving around, no doubt packing up his shit to get going.
“Amara did. She was checking one of the cases, and her finger caught on this little notched hole that’s barely noticeable. When she pulled it, the door opened. Whoever used it last must have been in a hurry because they left a ton of stuff behind, but we have power and running water for now.”
“Damn lucky. All right, well, sit tight; we’ll be there as fast as we can. And don’t die on me, because I don’t want to carry your giant ass out of there.”
Then he’s gone. I roll my eyes and chuckle.
When I walk back into the bunker, I see Amara on the other side of the room, looking at the old typewriters. She hasn’t noticed me, so I watch her for a moment. She moves carefully, almost like she’s afraid of breaking something. When she bends over to peer behind them, I get a view of her rounded ass, and I have to bite back a groan.
I so badly want to feel her fill my hands, but I doubt she’ll respond well to that, so I stay where I am, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep myself from doing anything stupid.
Instead, I console myself with the knowledge that this desire isn’t only one-sided. She might fight me on it, but she didn’t punch me in the face for kissing her, so I’ll take that as a good sign.
She gets under my skin like no other woman has before, and she knows exactly what buttons to push to rile me up. I’m going to work hard to get her to accept me, but at the same time, I almost hope she fights me a little.
I like a challenge.
Maybe not to the same level as Sienna with Alessio, but I like a good fight when the circumstances call for it. And something tells me that Amara and I are going to fight plenty.
“Do you always stand in doorways like a creeper?” Amara asks dryly, jerking me from my thoughts.
“I do when I’m looking at a beautiful woman,” I return smoothly.
She doesn’t react to that, moving instead to the next typewriter.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m trying to find the second exit,” she replies absently. “There has to be another one. No way would they risk not being able to get out if shit went south. Since the lever to get in here was hidden, that means the one in here will be just as well concealed, if not more.”
“I take it you didn’t find any food,” I summarize as I walk toward her.
“Nope. At least nothing that didn’t expire in the sixties. It looks like this place was used up until then, but I found a few papers from nineteen forty-nine. This was definitely a military installation, probably for the Cold War. But I found some things that suggest it might have been used during the Vietnam War, too.”
“I’m surprised there is still power and water,” I say thoughtfully.
“It probably runs on solar and rainwater, but yeah, when we get out of here, I’m gonna want the best meds you can get to make sure I’m not growing worms or some weird ancient bacteria. Even back then, the military was into some freaky shit, and they knew how to keep it hidden.”
“Yeah, we’ll do that,” I assure her.
I stop next to her and don’t bother to hide my amused smile when she tries and fails to lift the old typewriter.
“Need help?” I ask.
She looks up at me and glares. “You’re trying to piss me off, aren’t you? Yes, please pick it up, oh large one,” she mocks.
That sass of hers…
I lift the typewriter easily and watch as she inspects the underside, then the desk, but nothing appears, and she motions for me to set it back down. We repeat the same process with each of them but find nothing.
Amara scowls in frustration.
“We’ll find it,” I assure her. “But if it hasn’t been used in a few decades, it may be seized and not easily opened.”
Amara doesn’t acknowledge me; she just turns and surveys the room with critical eyes.
“They’re not going to make it obvious because that’s what anyone who broke in would be looking for,” she mutters absently. “No, they’ll need something close that they can get to quickly if there’s a breach, but also something that isn’t readily recognizable as an escape route. That eliminates that big machine because it’s too big and too damn heavy to move. The bed area is too open and close to the door, because if someone got in, they’d have a full view of the room and could see how they got out. The bathroom would solve the sightline problem, but they wouldn’t want water to splash and reveal any seams. So that leaves the kitchen, pantry, and that shelf there.”
It’s fascinating to watch her mind work. Amara is fucking smart, and pride swells in my chest. She’s had a hard life by all accounts, but clearly, that hasn’t stopped her.
Hell, when Urso and Zeno discover her analytical thinking, they’ll be trying to recruit her.
That thought has a scowl pulling at my lips.
Yeah, no, that’s not happening.
I may trust them both with my life, but until Amara is finally mine in every sense of the word, I’ll be keeping this to myself. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to fuck with me by trying to steal her away.
We spend the next hour searching the remainder of the bunker and find nothing. I can feel Amara’s frustration growing with each dead end, but her determination grows as well. I have a strong feeling she’s not going to stop until she finds it, but I don’t want her exhausting herself or getting hurt.
“Let’s take a break,” I suggest.
When she turns toward me, I assume to tell me off, I stop her with a quick, “We have a good six or seven hours left before our ride arrives, so there’s plenty of time to keep trying.”
She looks like she still wants to argue, but after a moment, she finally gives in. She turns away from the kitchen and moves to sit at the conference table, pulling her legs up under herself and resting her chin on her knees, staring straight ahead.
I move to sit at the head of the table to her right, turning my chair to face her. Her eyes move to me, watchful, before she finally says, “You said something about your father earlier. Do you have any siblings?”
I nod. “Two brothers and one sister. You’ll meet them all when we get to New York. I’m the oldest, then Alonzo, Urso, and Sofia. Alonzo is the one who is coming to get us. Urso is on his way from Sicily to New York with my father, Pietro, and the remaining Caruso brothers, and my sister is already in New York because she works for Nico Armani as his housekeeper.”
Her head lifts at that, a slight frown on her lips. “His housekeeper?”
A wry smile pulls at my mouth. “Sofia is stubborn and headstrong. She’s never had any interest in marriage or settling down, and she made that clear the minute she turned eighteen. She did a few odd jobs back home for a while, until finally, she told us she wanted to get out and explore. She found a job in New York with another Don as his head housekeeper, and she wanted to take it. She needed permission from Pietro because, technically, she worked for him in his home, but of course, he wasn’t going to deny her since she was so firm on her stance. And I think we all knew she needed a change. We just didn’t want her to be so far away. We did our homework on Nico to make sure she was going to be safe, and she was off. She’s been with him since.”
“Do you think she’ll ever move back home?”
I lose my smile. “No.” I sigh. “She’s built herself a life in New York, and it suits her.” Then I scowl. “And she’s currently… involved with Nico’s Underboss, so unless shit goes sideways with them, she won’t want to leave.”
Her brow shoots up. “I take it you don’t like him. Is he terrible to her?”
“No, but he isn’t good enough for her. He’s not the type to settle down. The only reason we haven’t killed him is that Sofia would never forgive us. It also doesn’t help that she hid their relationship from us. We only found out about it when we arrived in New York, when the whole situation with Gia and Nico started.”
“But didn’t you just say that she told you she isn’t interested in marriage or settling down? If he doesn’t want that either, they sound like a good match. And if he’s treating her well, then what does it matter?” Then her mouth twists into a saucy grin, and her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Or can you not handle the idea of your sister having hot sex without any strings attached?”
Disgust fills me, and I glare at her. She laughs wickedly.
“Oh yeah, that’s definitely the reason.”
“Shut up,” I huff. “All I know is, if the fucker ever hurts her, he’s going to die a slow and painful death.”
“Hard to hurt someone when you’re not emotionally invested,” she reminds me. “But sure, you plan all of that out. If your sister is anything like you, I doubt she’s going to take it well.”
“She’d rather stab me in the balls than punch me,” I mutter, but not low enough that Amara doesn’t catch it.
“There you go. I like her already. What about your brothers? What are they like? I assume they’re both giants like you?”
“We’re all tall, yes. Alonzo is an enforcer like me, though I’m specifically assigned to be head of security for Alessio. Alonzo moves between all the Caruso brothers and Pietro, depending on where they need him. Urso is more of a soldier, but lately, he’s taken after our father’s interest in gathering information and intelligence. He’s a whiz with computers and getting things that we need fast.”
“And what does your father do?”
I nod. “He’s a nosy son of a bitch, so it suits him, but he’s head of security for the Don now.” I smirk.
“Who do you take after most? Your father or mother?”
That gives me pause. My automatic reaction is to say my father, but that’s not fully true.
“I have my father’s logistical mind but my mother’s stubbornness,” I finally say with a smile. “My father is an excellent soldier. He trained us all to be as well, even the Caruso brothers, because he knew what we needed. My mother, though, she was so damn stubborn, and her temper was legendary. My father has those moments, like I do, but she let it out far more often than he ever did.”
I chuckle as a memory pops up. “When I was about seven, Papa came home late, having spent a little too long with Don Caruso, smoking cigars and drinking the finest scotch money can buy. My mother slaved all day over a delicious meal for him and the Don, who was supposed to come at our father’s invitation. She took the entire pot full of leftovers and threw it at him.
“I’m still shocked she lifted the damn thing, but she did. Somehow, he avoided getting hit in the chest with the pot, but he was drenched in broth and splattered with cold food.” I grin wickedly. “My father knew he was screwed, and she let him have it. Yelling and cursing, she called him and Pietro every name in the book for daring to disrespect her invitation, her cooking, and her time. Especially when she was dealing with us boys—we were a handful then—and Sofia was still just a baby.”
Amara’s eyes are wide. “What did your father do?”
“He let her rant and rave, then he stepped over the mess, pulled her in, and held her until she calmed down. He let her kick and push at him for a little bit, and he apologized and promised to never do it again. Then he got to work cleaning it all up, sent her to bed, and handled us for her. He wasn’t late the next night or any afterward unless Pietro needed him for business, which he always made a point to tell her about. And Pietro wasn’t long in coming over with flowers and an apology of his own.”
“Did she throw something at him too?” Amara asks.
I laugh. “No, but she gave him a stern tongue-lashing.”
Amara shakes her head. “I’m surprised he didn’t kill her for being so disrespectful.”
“Dolcezza, I promise, Pietro Caruso is not a man you cross, but his wrath is reserved for his enemies. Never for the people he considers family, and that includes all the women and children of his soldiers. He would care for any of them, no matter the circumstances. With him and my father being the best of friends, he adored our mother. She was there with him after things ended badly with his wife and was a surrogate mother for Alessio and his brothers. To know she was so angry with him would have hurt him deeply. So he took her tongue-lashing, and then he bartered with her to make him one of her famous tiramisus.”
“It’s just hard to align that with the mafia you described earlier.” She gives me a skeptical look. “They sound far too human.”
“We are all human, dolcezza. It may not seem like it to those on the outside, but we all bleed and die like everyone else. We just do it in ways that the masses don’t understand.”
Her expression is thoughtful as she stares at the table, seemingly digesting my words. I don’t know if that’s something to worry about or not. Finally, she nods and says, “I suppose you’re right. No one thinks of a criminal organization as having normal families, so it’s hard to imagine.” Then she looks at me. “You said you’re best friends with the Don’s sons?”
I smile. “We’re all about the same age, so it just made sense. There were other kids around, and we did spend time with them, but the Caruso brothers and us just clicked. I’m closest with Alessio since he’s only a few months younger than me, but I still consider Massimo and Zeno in my group of closest friends. We had a few skirmishes growing up, but we always worked them out amongst ourselves. I think it helped that none of them ever pulled rank on us, even though they would have had every right.”
“But they do now?”
“If they need to because of their roles, they do, but it’s natural now. When Alessio gives an order, I respect it, and I know that whatever he’s decided, I can follow without thinking he’s just trying to swing his dick around. Same with the others. Maybe that’s why we’re so good at what we do, but it works.”
She gives me an envious look. “You know, I used to wish for people like that in my life. Brothers and sisters that would come one day, and everything would be perfect. But even then, I knew that was a pipe dream.”
Anger rises in me at the reminder of everything she’s suffered. “Did you not have anyone that treated you kindly?”
She shrugs. “I think so, when I was a baby, but I don’t remember that. People love babies, but when you start getting older, understanding, and talking back, the ease of it is gone, and most foster parents don’t want to deal with that. So I got moved around a lot. There was one lady, Jenny, that was always kind to me. I was seven, I think, when I went to live with her. She was only fifty-two, but she had a heart condition that no one knew about. She passed away while I was at school one day. She laid down for a nap and never woke up. I found her and was smart enough to call the police. I went to a new home that day. After that…” She shrugs and looks back down at the table, avoiding my gaze.
“Amara,” I begin, but stop when I see her eyes narrow suddenly. Then her body jerks forward.
“Of course! How could I miss that?” she declares, unfolding from her seat and running her hand along the side of the table.
She comes to a stop just to the left of me, at the junction where the surface of the table meets the leg. Her hand moves again, and then I hear a faint click. I spin around in my chair to watch the wall next to the surveillance cabinet swing open to reveal a dark cavern behind it.
Amara gives an elated cheer as she gets to her feet. “Looks like we found our secret exit.”
I follow her over, pulling out my phone and turning on the light to peer inside. The air is musty, but there’s the slightest breeze, which means there has to be either an exit door or a vent down there somewhere. My light doesn’t reach very far, but I can make out the shapes of cobwebs, some trash, and papers on the floor of what I assume is a hallway. To the left is nothing but an old steel wall, rusting now from the trapped moisture.
I look up at the ceiling and breathe a sigh of relief, seeing that it is also steel and looks well reinforced. There’s no way this thing is caving in, save for a natural disaster, and even then, I don’t think it would take any damage.
To the right, I see a light switch and quickly flick it on.
I look down the long, dimly lit tunnel and then glance at Amara. “Want to check it out?” I ask her.
She hesitates, looking into the darkness once again before she takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and nods.
Her reaction intrigues me, but before I can question it, she says, “Let’s have a look.”
I’m anxious to know if there’s another way out of here, but we’ll be talking about that reaction soon enough.