Chapter Twenty-Three
Roe
I woke up disoriented.
A migraine was jackhammering behind my eyes. My temple and jaw were screaming in pain And my mouth felt weirdly cottony.
There was just a moment or two of misery before it all came rushing back.
Work, the attack, the questioning, beating, escape, Milo taking care of me, then waking up from a bad dream to him pulling me tighter and reassuring me I was safe.
I was in a hotel with him, hiding out.
Except I wasn’t with Milo anymore.
The spot next to me in bed was empty and cold to the touch. He’d been up for a while.
And judging by how bright the sun was streaming in through the windows, I could see why.
How long had I been out?
But then I remembered the two pills Remo had shaken out of a bottle with his brother’s name on it and into my hand.
That explained the deep sleep.
And the weird feeling in my mouth.
I climbed off the bed, feeling various other aches and pains in my legs and back from being partially trampled on the Boardwalk outside of the casino.
In the bathroom, I inspected the damage, seeing how deep the blue and purple bruises had gotten overnight. My eye was bloodshot, too. And my lip was still pretty fat, even after all the ice.
I used the extra toothbrush Milo had set up for me, did my best to tame my hair, then made my way out of the bathroom.
“Mi—” I started, only to have him step in front of me, his finger pressed to his lips.
Panic shot through my veins, thinking something had gone horribly wrong.
But then he held out a hand, gesturing toward one of the barrel chairs in the living room.
In it, Remo was sitting upright, his head tipped back, out cold.
The poor guy had looked awful the night before. Clearly, his system had been crying out for rest only to keep getting denied.
No matter who you were, though, sleep debt was going to catch up to you eventually.
Milo reached for my wrist, gently leading me into the kitchenette, but still talking in a hushed voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Hurting, but better than the alternative. Did they find the other woman? My cat? Dom?”
I felt like so much was going on, and I was somehow emotionally invested in all of it.
Milo handed me two more pills and some water as he answered.
“No word on Dom. But the pit boss is in a safe house. Alley is at Remo’s place. He said she has chosen his second youngest brother as her person. She keeps slamming against his legs and begging for pets.”
“What? The traitor. She never wants me touching her.”
“I guess she’s more a fan of men.”
“Meanwhile, I literally saved her life. The ingrate,” I said, but there was no real malice in it. If anything, I was just curious if she would be as affectionate with Milo. If he liked cats. If there would be room in his life for me, for her, for us.
“What’s that look?” Milo asked, reaching out to tuck some of my hair behind my ear.
“I was, um, just wondering if Alley would like you. Or if you like cats.”
“I do like cats. And even if she doesn’t like me, I won’t hold it against her.”
“So, you, uh, want to meet her?”
“It would be hard not to meet her if she’s living with us.”
Oh, my heart.
“Really?” I asked.
“I mean, if that’s what you want,” he added, looking suddenly very vulnerable.
“I do,” I said, giving him a smile. “I know things are new, but I feel—”
There was a knock at the door that had Milo sighing. He paused to press a quick kiss to my good temple. “We’ll get back to this later,” he promised as he moved past me.
He slid the lock.
Pulled open the door.
And a shocked yelp escaped me.
Because there he was.
Dom.
A little bruised and bloody.
But alive.
There.
“Fuck!” Milo said, going in for one of those one-armed hugs with lots of shoulder slaps. “What the fuck?”
“Dom?” another voice called, making all of us turn to find Remo awake and standing but frozen in place in the living room.
“Remo,” Dom said, giving the other man a nod.
Then Remo was closing the distance, grabbing Dom in a quick bear hug.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he asked.
“What the fuck happened to her?” Dom asked when his gaze finally landed on me. “Who was it? Where is he?”
His hands curled into fists, looking ready to turn right around and head back out to bash some heads together.
“Long story,” Remo said.
I swear he looked suddenly five years younger.
“What happened to you?” Remo asked.
“Long story too. I need a shower. And food. And a drink. Then maybe we can talk about it.”
Milo went to grab some clothes for his cousin to change into while Remo melted into one of the dining chairs, his hand draped over his eyes.
“You okay?” I asked, sitting down next to him.
“Think I’m supposed to be asking you that.”
“I have plenty of people worried about me.”
Huh.
That was a new development.
I went from being basically alone in the world to having several men (maybe even a dozen, if we were counting Remo’s guys) concerned about my well-being.
“I think maybe you don’t let many people worry about you. So here is me officially filing my concern paperwork.”
Remo shot me a smile. “Milo’s got himself a good one,” he said. “I’m alright, babe. I can handle the normal shit. And as much as I don’t like to admit it, someone getting beaten is normal shit. But a missing member of a more established branch of the Family, that was a lot.”
“Because of the pressure from the top?” I had no idea how the mob worked, but there seemed to be a hierarchy.
“Eh, Luca is a good boss. He knows how shit goes sometimes. But…”
“But you’re trying to make a name for yourself here and don’t want people always thinking about that one time you lost someone.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “I know he got back on his own, but if he hadn’t managed that, know the only way we would have found him would have been because of you.
I won’t forget that. What?” he asked when a weird, high-pitched giggle escaped me.
A slow, almost boyish smile spread across his face at the sound.
It should have softened his devilish features, but it only made him look more darkly charming.
“That just sounded… very mob-like,” I said. “The family owes you a favor,” I said in a mock deep voice that had a chuckle escaping him.
“Those meds treating you good, huh?” he asked, green eyes warm.
“They’re helping.”
“They’re gonna pay. Know that.”
“I think the pit boss made them pay quite a bit,” I said, wincing even just thinking about the sounds of those cracks.
“As she should. No one should be able to put their hands on a woman and walk away from it. She threw your lock in the ocean, by the way. I can get you a new one.”
“I guess I don’t need it now.”
That part hadn’t really occurred to me until right then.
My career as a lounge singer in Atlantic City was effectively over.
And, yeah, I had some conflicted feelings about that.
On the one hand, working for Frank had been a misery. The pay was awful. His attentions were worse. On the other, I loved being on that stage. I loved the room. I loved the songs and the audience and the applause.
“You’re going to buy the casino, right?” I asked.
“That’s the plan. Once I work some shit out with whoever Frank owes money to.”
The dark way he said ‘work some shit out’ made me think it wasn’t going to be a civil conversation.
I should have been horrified.
A normal person would be.
But a normal person hadn’t been in that room with me, hadn’t been beaten and threatened with rape by the men who worked for that mystery man. A man who must have been even worse than them if he controlled them.
And I’m sorry, maybe my morals were skewed, but I didn’t think men like that should be allowed to be out and functioning in society.
“Are you going to renovate?”
“Have you seen the place?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Even the lounge?”
Remo tapped his knuckles on the table. “As far as I’m concerned, leaving that lounge the way it’s been since the place opened was the only good decision he ever made.”
“Oh, good.” The relief had my shoulders relaxing.
“You can come back and make a guest appearance anytime you want,” he said. “Though you’re gonna have to find a new piano player.”
“What’s wrong with Archie?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s a hundred and ten?” he asked.
“He loves the music.”
“He needs the money,” Remo clarified. “His wife was real sick for a long time. The medical bills ate through his retirement. So he’s working every night with hands that are screaming in pain.”
“How do you know all that?”
“Well, I saw him playing the first night I came to town. You can see it. But it’s my job to know the rest.”
“But firing him is just cruel. Who else would ever hire him at his age?”
“I’m not gonna fire him. I’m gonna retire him.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Means he gets a severance. He deserves one with how long he’s been with the place, but since it changed hands several times, there’s no reward for his loyalty.”
“But he wasn’t loyal to you…”
“No. But we all deserve some fucking dignity in our old age.”
“How can you afford to just… pay people who aren’t working?”
“The dirty little secret of the world is that all the wrong, selfish people end up with all the money. People who wouldn’t stop to piss on you if you were on fire. Dunno how the fuck they can look themselves in the mirror every day.
“I don’t need a yacht and six houses. I need to be able to sleep at night. Helping someone who is struggling right in front of my eyes is a way to do that. It would barely be a blip on my bottom line. But it would change his life.”
“Wow,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“You know how the mob got away with the bat-shit crazy shit they used to do in the Golden Age?” Remo asked.
“No.” But I suddenly felt like I needed to brush up on mafia history.
“They took care of their neighborhoods. Sure, they were doing shady and illegal shit.
But they also suppressed violent local street crime.
They protected businesses and seniors. They donated to food banks.
Bought uniforms for the school sports teams. People remembered that.
And kept their mouths shut when the cops had questions.
“I’m not saying it was all gentlemen dons or some shit like that. Just like any other corner of the world, when you give the wrong men too much power, they exploit it. The same people they used to help get hurt.”
“I dunno, maybe I’m a fucking idealist or some shit, but I felt like the world was a better place when people gave a damn about their communities. I want to see that here. Fuck knows the area needs it.”
“I like you, Remo,” I declared.
“Yeah?” he asked. This time, his smile was wicked. “Wanna transfer your affections for my cousin over to me?” he asked. “A king ain’t shit without a queen, you know.”
“Which is probably why, historically, women have been better leaders,” I teased. “But, sorry, no. I like you. But what I feel for Milo is… different.”
“You can name it what it is, you know,” he said. “Pretty clear he feels the same way.”
“Who feels the same way?” Milo asked, coming out of the bedroom.
He walked behind me, his hands going to my shoulders, automatically rubbing at the tension still held in the muscles there.
“Just talking to your woman about the history of the mob,” Remo told him.
“Oh, great,” Milo said, his tone suggesting it was anything but.
“He’s going to give Archie a retirement so he can relax at home.”
“He deserves it.”
Huh.
Simple as that.
No questions about the financials of it.
Were they all just… fundamentally good men who wanted to see good done toward people who couldn’t catch a break?
“What about the pit boss?” I asked.
“What about her?”
“Is she fired too? Or retired?”
“Fuck no,” Remo said. “Woman who will beat a man’s head in with a metal door lock? That’s someone I want working the pit in my casino.”
“But she let me snoop in Frank’s office.”
“I think we both know why she let that happen,” Remo said with a shrug.
“Can I ask how you plan to get the casino? If something happens to Frank, won’t it just… go up for sale to the highest bidder?”
“That’s exactly what would happen. Which is why Frank isn’t falling off any balconies. Yet,” he added with a small chuckle.
It was another comment that should have horrified me. Frank hadn’t, after all, been the one to beat me.
But he had walked away and allowed it to happen. He would have assaulted me, given the chance.
Him ‘falling off a balcony’ could be seen as an act of harm reduction, saving hundreds of other women from his predatory ways.
“This part is boring,” Remo admitted. “It’s about untangling the mess that is his finances to know exactly how I can get him to sign the place over to me. Legally.”
“You’re right. That does sound boring. It’s a good thing you got a little sleep then.”
“Two whole hours,” Remo said. “Could go for another three days now.”
It was right then that Dom came out of the bedroom, hair wet, face looking even more bruised than before, wearing Milo’s clothes that were too snug all around.
“Baby, do you mind letting us talk in private?” Milo asked, giving my shoulders a squeeze.
I won’t lie; I was disappointed. After worrying about him for days, I wanted to know what happened to Dom. And, yes, after I’d been the one to kind of crack his case.
But I wasn’t part of the mob.
I couldn’t be privy to everything.
“Sure,” I agreed, popping up. “My head is a little spinny from the meds anyway,” I added. “I could use a lie down.”
I got a kiss on the temple before I walked away.
And as I listened to low male baritone voices, I couldn’t make out any actual words, and I really hoped that maybe pillow talk would get chatty later when everyone was gone.
Because what the heck had Dom done to make a woman stalk and kidnap him?