Gian tried not to glance over his shoulder and betray the paranoia eating through his gut as he shoved cash onto a cart destined for one of the many counting rooms. He emptied three duffel bags that carried two hundred thousand dollars, and needed to get it done so he could disappear from an area of the casino he shouldn’t be. Damn place had cameras everywhere.
He’d already had to steal into the main security central and delete footage a few times; a feat not easily accomplished, since the place was occupied by security officers twenty-four/seven. Like most high-dollar successful casinos, the security staff was vast, made up of plain-clothed, suited, and uniformed officers alike. Until a few weeks ago, security had been headed by Dominic, his fiancée’s middle brother, but the younger man had ticked off Daddy Dearest and gotten himself removed from the position.
Unfortunately, Big Tony would likely give him back the job if the idiot groveled. No doubt it’d happen sooner or later. Although, Gian could benefit from that, because the man who’d taken Dom’s place was doing a fine job—something the ne’er do well Giovanni couldn’t manage.
If security was lacking, Gian could get his job done better, of course. He’d have to whisper in the boss’ ear when the senior Giovanni was back at work, or maybe even at a hospital visit. He’d no doubt have to put in an appearance sooner or later, supportive fiancé and all that shit.
He’d rave about what a great job Dom had done, and how he was missed, especially since Big Tony was down for the count. Maybe it would help endear him to the little fucker, who didn’t like him anyway.
Meeting the eldest son—the cop—hadn’t gone well, either. The conceited ass didn’t like him any more than Dom or Sam. Either Elise’s brothers were just that protective of her, or they had great instincts. Neither scenario was fantastic for him.
He could only concentrate on the fact that the patriarch loved him. It was all that mattered, but if the man never came back to work, he’d really have to watch his ass, especially if Elise’s older brother was going to be around more.
In the president’s office, she’d begged him to come back into the family fold, with their younger brother cosigning everything she’d said. It hadn’t gone stellar, but if he knew anything about Italian women, guilt was her weapon of choice. Step aside persuasion, pleading, tears. Enough guilt to make a guy’s gut rot was an Italian woman’s way.
Gian could totally relate. His mother could always freeze him with the barest tremor of her bottom lip. Sometimes even with a smile and no sarcastic inflection.
Of course, the Giovanni children were all half Greek, but what a way to tap into one’s heritage.
He snorted.
The tight stack of bills brought his attention back to his task. Uncle Dino was probably going to call to confirm he’d gotten the money delivery. He had to be done by then and get his ass out of the hallway.
The money cart had been left unattended, and when it was discovered, whoever had left it would get an ass-chewing by the nearest manager for sure. The cart’s attached folder for the paperwork regarding the cash was also gone.
That gave him an idea. Perhaps he could stand by it and wait. Watch for the meandering idiot from security personnel who’d abandoned their duty to take a shit or bang a waitress in the closest bathroom.
He could demand, threaten, act like he’d come upon it by accident instead of having trolled the cameras on the app he’d had a hacker put on his phone so he could prey upon this very opportunity, this careless disregard of rules and regulations; a testament to why Dominic Giovanni had been removed from his position.
Gian always watched the cameras at the casino. Although, it wasn’t always this easy to integrate the money his father’s brother sent in weekly deliveries to be cleaned.
His burner cellphone rang. He jumped and cursed simultaneously. They always scheduled their calls on disposable phones so their conversations would remain untraceable.
Uncle Dino, right on time, if his Rolex knew anything.
He locked the roller door on the money cart and put the phone to his ear.
“Hey, kid.” His uncle’s gravelly voice splashed over his senses, even though it was only two words. He was suddenly homesick for Chicago, even seeing the older man’s beady dark eyes and pock-marked cheeks.
Gian didn’t miss arguments with his father, but he did miss how his uncle had always taken him out for a drink while he smoked cigars and agreed what a dick the leader of the Falcone family could be.
“It’s done.” The confirmation came out on a croak, so he cleared his throat.
“Good.” A pause. “You all good?” The Chicago accent was present in the question, and he was able to smile.
“Yeah. Of course. Have you told him, yet?”
A few heartbeats passed before the man spoke, which gave him the answer he didn’t want to hear.
“It hasn’t been enough time for you to prove yourself. Trust me, paisan.”
“A year isn’t enough time?” he hissed a whisper, in case the recalcitrant security officers came back for the cart.
“Patience. Trust me, nipote.”
Gian growled, but inhaled so he could talk with some semblance of calm. “I want him to know I’m the one handling this operation. It was my idea, my undertaking. I’ve taken all the risk, here. I’ve been doing it. We’ve cleaned a substantial amount, with more to come. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m established. The system is flawless.”
“Yeah, about that…”
He stilled, and gripped the throwaway phone tighter. “What?”
“Other than me, have you had any contact with Chicago?”
Gian frowned. “No. Why?”
“We need to lay low for a while, and now, it’s even more for your benefit if your father doesn’t hear your name, no matter your recent success in cleaning our dough.”
“Why?” he repeated, this time a harsh bark.
“Cesare Fratelli has disappeared. No one can find him, and no one offed him.”
“So…”
“Intel from the cops we have on the payroll say the FBI got him.”
“Motherfucker.”
A humorless chuckle sounded in his ear. “Yeah, nipote. I’ll halt deliveries for a few weeks, maybe a month. I think it’s the smart thing to do. We watch and wait. When we confirm what happened to Fratelli, we can reassess.”
“No. Keep the money coming. There’s no way the old fart would roll on Dad, even if he’s in an eight-by-ten. They go back too far.”
His uncle was silent for a few beats again.
“The smart thing—”
“No.” Gian entered demand-territory again. “I will prove myself. I can do this, and the feds don’t have any ties to me and Fratelli. I’ve been away from Chicago for a year, remember?”
“Don’t be a little fool. Your alias—”
“Is a non-issue. Not even Giovanni batted an eye.”
“He’s an idiot. Always was—”
“Follow our schedule. Another two hundred next week.” With his final command, he ended the call, ignoring the flip-flop in his stomach.
If the leader of his father’s CPA firm, which was on the up-and-up, as much as it played with the mob, really had been arrested by the FBI, the guys they had on the inside would find out. A hit would be taken out on the old man, no matter how loyal he had been to the Falcone family.
Gian believed Fratelli wouldn’t talk—the dude was his father’s ride-or-die, but if there was any doubt, the organization would have him killed. Even in prison, guards could be bought and sold like traded cigarettes.
Fratelli and Falcone went back generations. Their many shared skeletons were stuffed in closets, built into walls and drowned at the bottom of local rivers and lakes. If Fratelli decided to be a think-for-himselfer, the issue would be resolved. He might be taken care of no matter what, anyway. His father could be a ruthless bastard.
Maybe this didn’t complicate things for him. He could keep things going, even if Uncle Dino screamed caution. He would show his father he was worthy no matter what, and take down an old enemy, to boot.
With Fratelli no longer in the picture, the Falcone patriarch would be even more grateful to his ostracized son.
Gian would totally do this.
No. Matter. What.
Gio spent the next day observing, more than communicating with the taskforce about Maddie’s case. He’d been the quiet guy in the back of the room, listening to the rest of the team talk, strategize, and go over financials that just couldn’t be right.
She hadn’t said much to him, nor did she spare him much attention; like she approved of his minimal involvement. It was probably part acceptance of his disbelief over his father’s guilt, and part because of that kiss.
That perfect kiss he couldn’t quite get out of his mind, despite the shit about his dad and the casino.
He watched her like some stalker, staring at how her body moved in the simple dark jeans and tucked-in black button-down, her gun and badge on her belt just like his.
She was so damn appealing, even with her glorious honey waves gathered in a ponytail, but he drew the line on the memories of her in his bed. Otherwise, he’d be in boner at work territory. Again.
Maddie had been animated with his fellow detectives, and in the short time, showed him how good of an investigator she was. Back when they’d met eight years ago, she’d been in town on a fugitive retrieval mission, and he’d been a uniformed rookie cop.
They hadn’t worked together, not like they were now.
Well, she was working. He was voyeur-ing.
He’d finally excused himself late afternoon, lying to her about having to complete a few things from his last homicide case. He’d even assured her after he was finished, he was all hers.
Maddie had arched an eyebrow at his wording and Gio had dared her to verbally deny him, and added a wink for good measure. She hadn’t, of course, but her pink cheeks were adorable.
Thank God Captain Olinsky had been in a meeting, and not present in the conference room the taskforce had taken over. His boss would’ve called him on his bullshit about the closed case, and he would’ve been stuck there.
His task was complete in no time, because it’d only taken about ten minutes to do a cursory background check on Marco Fratelli.
The dude had no paper trail in Sin City, until about nine months ago when he’d started working at The Giovanni. No history on the social security number, or proof that he’d ever had a job before arriving in Las Vegas.
What the fuck?
His father had created a position for the prick. He was part liaison, part VP, part casino sales, and obviously a general gigantic kiss-ass to Big Tony. Probably had his lips glued to Gio’s father’s cornhole.
The cockstain worked in the accounting department with Elise, too. If that wasn’t a red flag, he didn’t know what was.
He dug deeper, going back to Chicago, starting with some background on the old man who’d rolled over for the FBI and the Marshals Service, Cesare Fratelli. The man was around Big Tony’s age and married.
His father had been born and raised in Chicago in a tightknit Italian-only community, so maybe what his sister’s soon-to-be ex-fiancé had said about their fathers being friends was true. Big Tony didn’t really discuss his childhood any the time before he’d moved to Vegas.
He’d married a Greek, instead of an Italian, and had always alluded that their extended family had an issue with Gio’s mother’s ethnicity. As they’d never had much contact with any Chicago family, it’d be hard to confirm.
Gio had copies of Maddie’s case files, so building on her information about Fratelli wasn’t difficult. The former CEO had a few kids, and among them, a son, Marco.
His heartrate had kicked up the more he read.
The boy had been born thirty-two years ago, so the age was about right, but there were no photos, no other pertinents. Like his birth had been recorded, and nothing else. No school records, and the social security number he’d managed to locate didn’t match the one his sister’s fiancé had on file at the casino.
The more he uncovered, the more he hung on the edge of his chair.
The kicker made him curse.
According to a death certificate from Cook County Records, Marco Alberto Marino Fratelli had died at age five.
He’d had a short, tragic life. Born with a congenital defect in his little heart, and he’d passed before he could receive a transplant.
So, who the fuck was engaged to his sister?
Gio was sure as hell going to find out.
He pushed his chair into his desk and cursed some more. Shoved his arms into his leather jacket and grabbed his helmet. His brooding face didn’t get far; since LVMPD was fond of glass walls and doors, and he had to walk past the conference room the taskforce was working in.
The door was open, and his team was in various stages of investigating. Hector jotted notes on the whiteboard from a paper in his hand, Navarro stared at a computer screen.
The captain was still gone, but he didn’t expect Olinsky to remain hands-on over the course of the investigation.
“Gio? What’re you doing?” Maddie asked, peering up from some paperwork with Mary Foster at her side.
Both women had yellow highlighters in hand, and sat across from each other, stacks of bound papers on the table in front of them.
More fucking financials that couldn’t be right.
He gritted his teeth. Thrust away his curiosity. He could go over their evidence later, when he was done with his own quest.
Gio couldn’t share with the class just yet. Needed to figure out who the hell his sister’s ‘Marco Fratelli’ really was.
Then maybe he could clue Maddie and the team in.
He looked at his watch. “It’s ten to five. Sorry, but I have to call it a day.”
Maddie exchanged a glance with Foster, and he didn’t miss that Hector was subtly watching over his shoulder.
Navarro generally didn’t miss much, but the guy didn’t look up from whatever he was doing on the computer.
Gio was going to have to lie.
Maddie hated liars.
His former lover pushed her chair back and joined him in the hallway.
He took a few steps away from the door; didn’t need an audience from nosey coworkers.
“Gio?” A frown marred Maddie’s pretty face. She’d followed his feet, and stood too close for comfort.
Her familiar scent of fresh-cut flowers tickled his nose and he really wanted to grab her up. Couldn’t help but watch her mouth and again remember that kiss yesterday in the supply room. Like he hadn’t been obsessing about it all day.
She’d stated she’d moved on long ago. Declared she didn’t want him, but that was all bullshit.
Maddie had kissed him back. Fervently. Hungrily. Her body had melted against his, like it always had.
God, his blood had boiled. No other woman could make him so hard so fast. He’d had to stay in that little room until he’d gotten his shit under control.
He’d wanted to strip her and take her against the shelves that held more office supplies than Staples. If she hadn’t pushed him away, he would have. Been inside her in two seconds flat.
Gio wanted to knock his head against the wall.
How the fuck had they gotten here?
He wanted her back; wanted another chance with her, but everything was an obstacle.
Maddie had shoved him away and rejected him.
Her case made it look like his dad and his whole family were a bunch of criminals. Even if he could prove otherwise, how could they make things work?
She was likely leaving when the case was over, too. Could he let her walk away again? He’d barely survived the first time.
He’d have to convince her to give him another shot, first.
The idea straightened his shoulders. Convincing her could be fun. A challenge.
“Gio?” she prompted again, irritation lacing his nickname, and she crossed her arms over her breasts.
Bad idea to call his attention there.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. I know you’re not done for the day, but my sister called. I need to head to the hospital.”
Her expression softened and she dropped her arms. Maddie reached for him, but stopped short of touching him.
That was probably for the best.
Her genuine concern churned guilt low in his gut, but she’d promised to let him prove his father was innocent, and that was what he was doing.
He just couldn’t tell her yet.
“How’s Elise? How’re your brothers coping?”
Gio bit his bottom lip to hide his surprise.
Right, Maddie and Elise had made fast friends back in the day. His sister had been in college, and in her rookie year of officially working at The Giovanni.
Genius that she was, his sister had graduated high school at sixteen and wrapped up her double-bachelor’s in accounting and business in three years.
Their father had only let her do so because she was so good with numbers, and as far as the family business was concerned, Elise was a benefit. Big Tony could look past conservative presumptions for a fatter bottom line.
One more reason to growl at his hypocrisy.
His brothers had been kids back then, Dom barely eighteen, and Sam only fourteen. Dom had already been on the path he was currently embracing, but Sam had been much like he was now, sweet; shy and quiet. His baby brother had really connected with Maddie, who’d been raising her younger sister.
He’d never met Jamie, since Maddie had been in Vegas temporarily on a man hunt, but she was around Sam’s age, if memory served.
Gio and Maddie had had an incendiary affair lasting eight weeks that felt like years.
She’d marked him.
Ruined him for other women.
He’d never been the same, and hadn’t told her how he’d felt. Regret and pain had driven him for a long time.
Breast cancer had taken his mother only a few weeks after he’d met the US Marshal who’d shattered his heart, so the Giovanni family had been in a rough place.
Mix in the shit with Big Tony, and he’d been a fucking mess.
For a long time.
Maybe he still was.
“Gio, are you okay?”
Now her worry made his chest hurt. It was so honest.
So Maddie…his Mads.
The nickname he’d given her all those years ago made it hard to breathe.
“I…know what it’s like to lose your parents, and your dad’s all you have. This must be hard…”
Gio didn’t correct her. She couldn’t know how badly things between him and his father had deteriorated after she’d left. Didn’t know he hadn’t talked to the man in years.
He couldn’t tell her now. Big Tony needed to be his cover.
He averted his gaze, and it was an urge he didn’t have to fake. “I need to go.”
Her hand landed on his, and he almost jumped. It was warm, and welcome, but more than that, familiar, like no time had passed.
Tempting. The barest touch, and it made him crave more.
He looked there before he met those beautiful hazel eyes.
Mixed emotions churned in his already roiling gut. How could she look at him like that when she thought his father was a criminal?
How could she give a shit?
Gio scanned her face, and all he could read was real worry. One hundred percent sincere.
For me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He severed their physical contact, tightened his grip on his helmet and left.