Dangerous Beauty: Part Three: This is War (44 page)

Three hard kicks, back to back. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed as he stopped, trying to catch his breath.

When he stopped this time, Carter flipped. “Nathan,” she screamed.

“I’m sorry, baby!”

Carter hadn’t listened as she angrily got up from the bed, put on her robe, and stormed out of the bedroom, promising Nathan that he wouldn’t have to worry about having sex with her ever again. Nathan had followed her around the house apologizing while she yelled at him and ate a snack for a whole hour. But eventually the fight took a turn for the sexy, and they ended up making love in the living room on the sofa.

Go figure.

By month seven, the fight to keep the twins gender a surprise was lost when Nathan came home from work, demanding that Carter give up the ‘
waiting till the babies are born’
thing, and let the doctor reveal the genders. Surprisingly, Carter hadn’t put up fight. She gave in as soon as he made the demand, and the next morning they were off to the doctor’s office. Nathan could hardly wait until they found out what the twins would be, and when they did he could barely contain his joy. He’d pulled Carter from hiding for the remainder of the day, took her to S.O., and entered the twenty sixth floor with gusto shouting,
“Sons!”
to all in ear shot. The entire floor had erupted in cheers as some of Carter’s men—happy to see her after months of her absence—came and helped her to a comfortable seat. The rest of that day had been spent at the office celebrating with friends and family.

The weeks following were spent doing preparation. Nathan was positive Carter was in the nesting stage he’d read about in the parenting books on his desk at work because she was an adorable ball of energy. Every morning for weeks before her eighth month, she would wake up, shower, put on one of her gorgeous little maternity dresses and wobble around the house preparing for the babies. During the week while he was at work, she spent the day out shopping for their sons. Carter had made a nice little handful of new friends during her time away from work, so most of the time when Nathan came home, he was greeted with the sound of laughing women … and Gabriel. It never bothered him. Carter blossomed when she was with her friends; he’d never seen her so animated, so lively. He could tell how much she loved her time with them. Plus, with them helping her with the shopping part, Nathan hadn’t had to do it.

Normally he would have hesitated letting her go shopping, but that all changed when Anastacia added a few extra fearless men to protect her while they weren’t around … mainly, Shadow Walker, a tall, heavily muscled man from France. He had known Carter since she was nine years old. Nathan knew little of Shadow Walker, so he’d asked Freddy Russia if he had any information on the man. Freddy’s knowledge was limited but very useful. Shadow was once a member of the Steele Family, but after an unknown event occurred, he was cast out. It was rumored that Silas feared the man, which in Nathan’s opinion, made Shadow the perfect man for the job of protecting his wife.

Month eight rolled around quickly and Nathan was stuck with the task of painting the twin’s room, and playroom, alone. Carter had already placed the baby blue and yellow paint in the room when he’d arrived home from work on a Friday. Nathan had asked Carter why they just couldn’t hire professionals to do it, but she’d argued that the experience would help him—as a father—feel closer to his sons. She also got him to read to them every night when they would go to bed. Nathan had to admit, she was right. Painting those rooms for his sons gave him an insane sense of accomplishment. He’d actually stood in those rooms, chest swelling with pride, staring at the shit for hours.

The following Monday when he went back to work, he went with a smile on his face. The weekend had brought him closer to his family, and he felt like doing something special, something huge to surprise Carter, but he just couldn’t think of what. An idea hadn’t come to him immediately, but that was probably because Monday was one of the
shitiest
work days of his life. It had all started when he was walking to a lunch meeting in the City with his men, and a bullshit talking Mob Boss by the name of Ricci Marino.

“So what I’m asking for here is to be business partners,” Ricci said confidently. “The quality of my shit isn’t all that great anymore, but if I’m partners with you, I get better quality and you make more money.”

“So basically you’re asking me to give you
my
shit for free?” Nathan asked, amused by the man.

“No,” he answered quickly. “No fucking way. I’m talking a real partnership here.”

Nathan shook his head and removed his suit jacket, handing it off to one of his men as they continued walking. “Do I look like I need a fucking pusher, Ricci?” he questioned, his amusement quickly becoming irritation.

“No, Salerno. I’m not asking to be your pusher.”

Nathan stopped walking and looked down at the man. “Then what the fuck is it that you’re asking, Ricci? Because it sounds to me like you’re asking for a job. I give you access to my quality products, you sell the shit to your associates, then take a portion of my money for shit I fucking produced. Am I right?”

Before Ricci could answer, Nathan turned and finished the walk to their destination, which was a beautiful Italian restaurant that he owned. One of the first businesses he’d started on his own with a buddy of his—from his one year stint in college—that became a chef. His name was Salvatore Russo, and the guy was an amazing cook. Nathan had tasted his food at another Italian restaurant where he’d had a part time gig, and after Nathan had recognized him he offered him the position as head chef in his restaurant. The man had eagerly accepted and thrived in his own kitchen. Nathan’s restaurant launched Salvatore’s career.

“Nathan!” Salvatore came bursting through the kitchen doors excitedly to greet him. “How are you, old friend?”

He and Salvatore embraced one another the way true Italians would. Loud laughter, bear hugs, and ridiculously loud slaps on the back.

“I’m great, Sal. How are you? How’s business?” Nathan asked.

“I’m great, and business is even better,” he stated proudly. “The Times will be here tomorrow to do a piece. They’d love to have you there, buddy.”

Nathan shook his head. “You know me. You’re the face of this restaurant, Sal. I’ll just fade into the background and collect my riches.”

Salvatore laughed heartily. “Same ole, Nathan.” He slapped Nathan on the back again. “How’s the wife? It’s getting closer to that time …”

Nathan nodded. Carter and Salvatore had met a few times, and each time they’d enjoyed each other’s company. “She’s doing wonderful for a woman carrying two Salerno men.”

Salvatore laughed. “I remember when Donna had our first. I was scared shitless, but Macy is the best thing God has ever given me.”

Smiling, Nathan grinned. “That’s good, buddy. You don’t mind my colleagues and I dropping in for a late lunch do you?” Nathan didn’t have to ask—he knew that—and he knew Salvatore wanted him to stay, but asking the man just made Nathan look like he was actually a nice person.

“No, please stay,” he insisted. “It’s your restaurant and you barely eat here.”

Nathan chuckled but didn’t respond. The restaurant served its purpose, and that’s all he cared about. The fact that it was a successful business was merely a plus.

“Have a seat, I’ll whip you all up something special. It would really be my pleasure.”

Nathan nodded as his men and Ricci followed him back to a secluded area he kept reserved for his visits to the restaurant. Nathan made sure to sit at the table next to the large window so the relentless detectives—that he knew were snapping photos of him, as they did every day—could at least get his good side. Once they were seated, Nathan resumed their meeting. He motioned for Ricci to continue once the server brought him a glass of scotch.

“I wasn’t asking to be your pusher, Salerno. I’m offering more territory without the threat of a war—”

“A threat of a war? With who? You?” Nathan asked.

Ricci shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

Nathan chuckled. “Be real, Ricci. If you want to talk bullshit, then you might as well leave now. However, if you want to talk business, the first thing I’m going to need is honesty. You aren’t offering me anything I can’t acquire myself, regardless of your weak threat of war.”

“I wasn’t threatening you …”

“But you are wasting my time,” Nathan snapped. “Tell me what you really want.”

Ricci visibly swallowed and sat up straight in his seat. Smoothing his hand down his tie, he leaned forward and spoke low. “It’s Bonaducci.”

“Bonaducci?”

After he’d nodded, Ricci cleared his throat. “Yes. They’re closing in on my territory, threatening my guys, and killing my business. I’m losing money dealing with these guys.”

“What have you done to piss off Don Bonaducci?” Nathan asked, suddenly becoming interested in the man’s issue.

Ricci shook his head vigorously. “Nothing, I swear. I keep to myself, do my business, but now I can’t because the Bonaduccis are expanding.”

Nathan frowned. “Expanding?”

“Yeah, and he’s not just pushing me out either. He hit Reeves hard after you broke ties with him. Murdered half of his men and stole a good amount of his money.”

Nathan’s eyebrow arched. “Bonaducci’s hitting small time gangsters?”

The desperate fucking idiots. Since Nathan was a teenager his father and Don Bonaducci had been in a sort cold war. The two families would never be at peace.

“Yes. Now he’s closing in on myself, Chino, Mick, and Ruzzio.”

Some mob families from Jersey and Las Vegas.

“What the fuck is Bonaducci doing in Vegas?” Nathan knew that Don Bonaducci had ambitions of taking over as New York’s most powerful family—which was fucking impossible—but he hadn’t known that he wanted Vegas, too. It was laughable. “So what is it that you want? To warn me?” When Nathan chuckled softly, his men joined in with him. He looked to the entrance to the room right as Lucca, Kyle, and Mickey entered. Dante was in the country with Carter.

“What’d we miss?” Lucca asked, pulling up a seat next to Nathan. “Hello, Mr. Marino.”

Ricci nodded to Lucca. “Good day, Salerno.”

Kyle and Mickey sat at the table behind them.

Nathan retrieved a glass for his cousin and poured him a drink. “Am I being followed?” Nathan asked them. He was sure that he was, but he’d sent the guys to confirm.

Lucca picked up his scotch and nodded as he took a drink. “Yep,” he answered, setting his glass back down.

Nathan nodded and waited for Lucca to continue, but Lucca said nothing. After a minute, Lucca felt Nathan’s stare and looked over to him.

He frowned. “What?” he asked.

Nathan blinked. “What the fuck do you mean
what
? Who is it?”

Glaring, Lucca shook his head. “Don’t yell at me,
cugino.
It’s not nice. It’s hot outside and myself, Kyle, and Mickey just got here. Excuse me for wanting to take a break for a second.”

Nathan’s nostrils flared in aggravation. “Do you all see?” he asked to every man in the room. “This is why you don’t work with family.” Lucca rolled his eyes and reached for his drink again. Nathan snatched it back. “Lucca Salerno.”

“It’s not, Silas,” Lucca said in annoyance. Nathan returned his drink. “It’s Warren.”

Detective Marvin Warren of NYPD. The man was a serious pain in Nathan’s ass. Every week the motherfucker came to Nathan with some bullshit, accusing him of doing the most outlandish things.

Nathan didn’t show any reaction to the news; instead, he moved on with the meeting. “Bonaducci is closing in on a few old friends. He’s trying to build an empire the only way they know how.”

“By stealing it?” Kyle asked.

Nathan nodded.

“That didn’t work out to well for him last time,” Mickey remarked. “Didn’t your father almost kill him?”

Nathan nodded again. “Bonaducci is using intimidation, murder, and anything he can to push them out and take over. He’s also pursuing some endeavors in Las Vegas.”

Lucca snorted. “Not happening. Vegas is packed. They’ll block him out.”

“He’s trying to knock Ruzzio. My guess is he’s going to kill the guy and take over his territory in Vegas,” Nathan stated, then looked back over to Ricci. “He’ll probably to kill you, too.” He took another drink of his scotch and sat back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “I believe I know what it is you want now, Ricci. You want protection. You want my family to partner with yours, so if Bonaducci fucks with Marino, he’s fucking with Salerno.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to do,” Ricci pleaded. “I’ll buy in, give payments on time, whatever! I’m sick of this shit. I want Bonaducci to back the fuck off. He won’t fuck with Angelo Salerno’s shit. Everybody knows that. Please,” he begged. “I’m asking this as someone that’s always abided by the peace agreement set by our fathers back when we were in diapers, man. My father left me everything he built. I can’t let that piece of shit Bonaducci just … take it!”

Dammit
! Nathan felt for the idiot. He’d accomplished what many never could by begging like that. He had made Nathan actually want to help him. Why? Because Nathan understood. Being the son of a powerful mafia boss himself, he knew he had big shoes to fill whenever his father stepped down. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel about himself if he let all that his father had worked to build be taken by some cowardice thief.