SIX

Paolo parked his car in the parking lot of the Journey’s End Care Home in North Las Vegas. For six years, he had been running errands and doing grunt work for the Toscani family, but mostly, he worked for Mr. Rizzoli and his crew. He delivered packages, picked locks, carried messages, kept a look out, trashed offices, and picked up Italian pastries from Roberto’s Deli for the hungry wiseguys who could never have a meeting without food. But he’d never been given a real job—a job only Mafia associates or soldiers did.

Until today. Mr. Rizzoli, had asked him to do surveillance work tonight, and he was so excited he had to tell his mother.

He walked into the dull gray building, noting the stains on the worn carpet, the wallpaper peeling in the corners, and the dirty glass window in front of the reception desk. He waved to the receptionist, and she buzzed him inside. Paolo knew everyone at the rest home and they knew him because he’d been coming here once or twice a week for the last ten years.

When he reached the common room, he spotted his mother right away. She sat in her wheelchair by the window staring out over the concrete parking lot. His stomach twisted as it always did when he saw her. One day he would have the money to move her to a nice care home with the trees and flowers she missed from her childhood home in Oregon.

“Hi, Ma.” He stood in front of her because she didn’t respond when people talked, but he knew she saw him because her eyes widened ever so slightly.

“How are you?” He frowned when he saw goose bumps on her arms, her body trembling under her pale pink nightgown. She was hunched over like an old person even though she had only just turned thirty-six, and her long blonde hair was so dull it looked gray. “Where’s the dressing gown I bought you? Did you leave it in your room?” He patted her arm. “I’ll go get it. Be right back.” He made his way through the sea of wheelchairs, freezing when saw her dressing gown on a woman playing cards.

“That lady’s got my mother’s dressing gown,” he said to the nurse supervising the common room.

“It happens a lot.” She gave Paolo a sympathetic smile. “She doesn’t know it’s not hers. There’s nothing we can do. Taking it off her would be against the rules.”

Paolo could feel his temper rise, so he quickly walked away. His father, a Falzone crime family enforcer, also had a temper, and Paolo didn’t want to wind up like him. He’d been thrown in jail when Paolo was seven years old for beating on Paolo’s mom so badly she’d suffered irreparable brain damage. It was the last of many times and he’d finally gone to jail. Paolo’s mother had been put in a care home, and Paolo had gone to live with his Aunt Marie.

For the first few years, he’d been passed around among relatives when Aunt Marie was away working as a flight attendant. But when he turned eleven, she decided he could look after himself, and he wound up on the streets after school and on weekends, running errands for the mob until someone brought his lock-picking skills to Mr. Rizzoli’s attention.

“I can’t find it, Ma.” He unzipped the new hoodie he’d bought this afternoon after Mr. Rizzoli gave him the surveillance job, not wanting to embarrass his boss by wearing his worn T-shirt and jeans on official Mafia business. “You can wear this until I get you a new one.” He placed the hoodie around his mother’s frail shoulders, and shivered in his T-shirt. The air conditioning was going full blast even though it was fall. Were they trying to freeze the residents to death?

“Things are finally looking up.” He sat on a chair across from his mother. “Mr. Rizzoli gave me an important job today. He even let me use a car.” He hesitated, waiting for her to say something, but she never did, so he kept talking. “He’s a good guy. He looks after his crew, and he protects people in his territory. And he treats his women real good. He says you gotta respect the ladies. You don’t shout at them, and you never hit them. Not even with a flower.”

It was Mr. Rizzoli’s attitude toward women that had lured Paolo away from his father’s Falzone crime family and over to the Toscanis. His loyalty had been secured the week after he told Mr. Rizzoli about his parents when his father was mysteriously beaten to death in jail. Mr. Rizzoli never said anything about it, and Paolo didn’t ask, but there was nothing Paolo wouldn’t do for Mr. Rizzoli after that.

He leaned over to give his mother a hug. Then he slid to his knees and buried his face in her lap, ending his visit as he always did—in tears. “I miss you, Ma, but things are going to be better now. I promise.”

After his visit, he drove to the address Mr. Rizzoli had given him and parked down the street. He didn’t know much except that Mr. Rizzoli was interested in a woman named Gabrielle, and he wanted Paolo to check out her place. The small bungalow stood on a corner lot surrounded by a thick hedge. From the dark windows and the absence of a vehicle parked in the driveway, he assumed no one was home.

Ten minutes of staring at the bungalow later, a sleek silver Audi TT turned into the driveway. Paolo pulled out his phone and videoed the woman and man exiting the vehicle. He recognized Gabrielle from the security tape footage they had watched at Glamour. He wasn’t sure what Mr. Rizzoli had meant when he told Paolo to check out the house, but he figured Mr. Rizzoli would want to know about the man Gabrielle was with. He slipped out of his car and dashed across the street, taking up a position on the sidewalk behind the hedge, trying to look casual like he was playing Pokémon Go.

He positioned his phone at a gap in the hedge. Gabrielle was very pretty, but not his type. Paolo had his eye on Michele Benni, the daughter of one of Mr. Rizzoli’s soldiers. She had long, thick dark hair, deep olive skin, big tits, and a curvy body. Of course, her father wouldn’t let her date a civilian, but once Paolo became an associate in Mr. Rizzoli’s crew, he was going to ask her out on a date.

He heard footsteps, keys jangling, the rattle of a screen door, and a dog barking in the back yard. Quietly, he moved closer so he could hear.

“Thanks for dinner, Jeff,” Gabrielle said. “It was good to get out. It wasn’t a total shock to find out they were transferring me out, but it was still incredibly disappointing, and to just get the decision in a memo…”

“That’s what I’m here for, babe.”

Paolo pushed his phone farther through the hedge and stared at the screen. Jeff was a big, muscular guy. Dark hair. Tanned skin. Thick neck. He had one meaty hand on the open screen door and he stood facing Gabrielle in the doorway, like he wanted to go in. Paolo knew the feeling. The first time he’d walked Michele home after school, he’d had an erection that wouldn’t quit. He would have given anything to go inside with her, but her father had come to the door, putting a quick end to the problem in Paolo’s pants.

“I’ll come in and make sure the house is secure, and we can talk some more.” Jeff took a step forward, and Gabrielle put out her hand.

“Thanks, but Max has been alone all day, and you know how he is around men. I just want to take him for a walk and then sit with him in front of the TV and chill.”

“I thought you told me Nicole was at Clint’s place tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.” Jeff leaned in and touched his mouth to hers.

Paolo hissed in a breath. He hoped Mr. Rizzoli’s interest in Gabrielle wasn’t the kind of interest that could get Jeff killed for stealing a kiss. Made men were very possessive about their women. One of the ten Mafia commandments was not to look at the wives of friends, which was a hard one to follow if a wiseguy had a beautiful woman—much harder than the prohibition against associating with cops.

“I won’t be alone. I have Max.”

As if he heard his name, the dog barked louder, the sound close to where Paolo stood.

“That’s not what I mean, Gaby.” Jeff’s voice took on a cajoling edge that grated on Paolo’s nerves. “You bottle everything up. You need comfort. You need someone to hold you. I’m here for you. I’ve been here for you for two damn years. I’ve been honest about my feelings, and I never pushed you.” Jeff took another step forward, but Gabrielle didn’t move from the door.

“It’s been long enough,” he continued. “You have to move on. I hate to say it, but I’m glad they transferred you. It’s time to look forward not back. And I want to be part of that future.”

“I’m not giving up,” she said. “I can’t. If I don’t have that file, I have nothing to live for.”

“You have me.” He tried to kiss her again, and she backed away.

More barking from the dog. Paolo wished he could bark, too, and scare Jeff away. Should he do something? Gabrielle clearly wasn’t interested, and Jeff wasn’t backing down.

Paolo always tried hard to do the right thing, but he was either the unluckiest guy on the planet or he just made piss poor decisions. He was the guy who pulled a prank in the school restroom just when the principal walked by, or the guy who was caught doing dope around the only crime family that had a ban on drugs. Mr. Rizzoli was a one-warning guy. He’d beat Paolo black and blue and told him not to show his face until he was clean. Mortified that he’d let Mr. Rizzoli down, he’d gone into the first detox program that would take him and he’d stayed clean since.

“Jeff—” Gabrielle’s voice had a warning edge that made the hair on Paolo’s neck prickle. He zoomed the camera, trying to adjust for the fading light. Gabrielle’s arms were folded over her chest, and Jeff was looming over her in what Paolo thought might be a threatening way for a woman her size.

“I’ve never led you on,” she said, her voice wavering. “You’ve been a good friend to me. I don’t think I would have pulled myself out of the darkness without you. But that’s all I feel for you. Friendship. I’m sorry, Jeff. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about where this is going to—”

Jeff cut her off with an angry bark. “You’ve been with other men, Gabrielle. Why not me? No one cares about you the way I do.” His voice rose so loud Paolo’s heart thudded in his chest. This was no way to speak to a woman. Mr. Rizzoli would be appalled.

The dog clearly felt the same way. His barking was loud and frantic now. Paolo heard the scratching of paws on the gate near where he stood.

“No one will take care of you like I will.” Jeff’s voice grew louder still. “No one understands what you’ve been through the way I do. Forget about the damn file. I want to be there for you, Gaby. Give me what you gave to strangers. Give me a chance to show you a future without revenge.” He put one hand on the door and leaned in.

“God, Jeff. Don’t do this.” Gabrielle’s voice cracked, broke. “Not now. Not today. You’re like a brother to me. I care about you a great deal, but not that way.”

“Fuck.” Jeff smashed the screen door against the house so hard it broke off its hinges, and the glass shattered.

The dog went crazy. Paolo could see his head and paws as he tried to jump over the gate, and then his nose as he tried to squeeze underneath. And the barking … anyone with a dog would know something was wrong. Paolo was surprised no one had come out to see what was going on.

His heart thudded in his chest. Was Jeff going to hit her? If Mr. Rizzoli was interested in her, she was under Mr. Rizzoli’s protection, and that meant Paolo had to act on his behalf. But what could he do? Although he was filling out fast, physically, he was no match for Jeff who had to outweigh him by at least one hundred pounds.

“I want you to leave. Right now.” Gabrielle’s voice, now cold and firm, cut through the air. She sounded more annoyed than scared, but Paolo knew just how much damage an angry man could do.

“I’m coming in, Gaby, and we’re going to talk this through.”

“I said no.” She blocked the doorway, hands up in a warding gesture, face tight, legs apart. She looked fierce and determined, and Paolo couldn’t help but admire her. Jeff was a very big man and he clearly had no intention of walking away. Gabrielle had no chance against him, but she didn’t back down.

He had to act now. Frantic, he shoved his phone in his back pocket and grabbed the biggest rock he could find. Taking aim, he threw it as hard as he could, hitting the windshield of the Audi with a loud crash.

“Jesus Christ. What the fuck was that?” Jeff spun around and Paolo took off at a run.

“I see you little motherfucker,” Jeff shouted. “You better run because when I catch you, I’m going to beat you black and blue. I’ll give you so much pain, you won’t even be able to beg for mercy.”

Paolo looked back over his shoulder and stumbled on the curb, falling to his knees. He jumped up and was shocked to see Jeff behind him and gaining fast. But if he’d learned one thing as the kid of an abusive dad, it was how to run. He was a full block away when he realized his phone had fallen out of his pocket when he tripped. Going back wasn’t an option. He could only hope Jeff didn’t find it. And if he did, Paolo prayed Jeff wouldn’t find him.