Ties That Bind (23 page)

She touched his hair, letting her fingers slide across his cheek. “And then one day, a decade later, you appear. A new suit, a new brother, a new career – a new you.”

“For better or worse?” he asked, taking her hand in his to keep her from touching his face, unwilling to accept the comfort she was trying to offer him.

“Both,” she murmured, “always both.”

“Bed time for you,” he whispered, moving her gently off his lap.

She crawled into bed without argument, letting him tuck her in as if she was a little kid again. “You'll stay until I'm asleep?”

He chuckled but lay down beside her anyway, offering her a kiss on the forehead before stretching out. “Just go to sleep quickly or I'm liable to pass out first.” He was quiet for a moment, listening to her soft breaths beside him. “Toni?”

“Hm?”

“I was terrified they were coming for you next. After hearing about Sonny, I mean.”

“You are much more of a target than I will ever be. Everyone knows that,” she answered reasonably.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

A soft touch grazed against his face and then was gone. “If you were terrified, think how I felt.”

“Night, girl.”

It was during the wee hours of the morning when Mitch received his first hint that something wasn't right in Toni's world. More than the murmurs or the shivering or frightened tossing and turning that rumpled all the bed covers, it was the intensity of her dreams that nearly brought Mitch to his knees. That there was something so devastatingly poisonous in her life and that she would hide it from everyone – especially him, when she knew he could protect her – made his anger flare and his fury toward her grow with each passing breath. That she felt she could not trust him, or would not, washed away all the words of trust she had been telling him while awake. His anger had grown to the point of waking her when a soft muted voice, more of a whimper of helplessness, cut through him as if she had knifed him directly in the heart.

“Daddy, no.”

It was neither a plea nor beg but a matter of fact statement. Whether Nicolai was doing something to her or someone else, Mitch had no idea but the effect was still the same – the dreams that were haunting her were about her father. And she knew, while Mitch could protect her from him, it would undoubtedly put the families at war. By her silence, Toni was protecting Mitch and that was more painful than anything.

When she came downstairs the next morning, it was impossible for Mitch to look her in the eye. She swooped in, kissing him, Teddy, Gino and Jimmie on the cheek before pouring herself a glass of juice.

“Must you always be so chipper?” Ashli grumbled.

“Must you always be so sour?” she returned, her smile never fading. “Who is the lucky one to escort me to the airport this morning?”

“Mitch-”

“Gino, I believe,” Mitch cut into Jimmie's response without bothering to look up. “The rest of us are headed back to the States this morning. We're actually running late as it is.”

“Fabulous, can we stop by the market again, Gino?  Would you mind terribly?”

“Of course not. For a ray of sunshine like you, anything, my dear.”

Jimmie was downing his coffee quickly, keeping his face as placid as possible. “Are we ready then?”

Mitch nodded. “Hurry up, Teddy, finish your omelet and let's go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Toni moved among them, giving hugs and kisses as Teddy gulped the rest of his breakfast in one bite and washed it with a cup of coffee.

Mitch bent down to offer her a kiss on the cheek, hesitating a moment by her ear. “Be careful of your bedmates, girl,” he whispered, causing her to give him a quizzical look. “You talk in your sleep.”

He moved away but not before noticing how her face blanched to icy whiteness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Mitch stretched out as far as the tiny metal chair would allow, chains at his ankles clattering against the yellow seventies formica. When Mike entered a half hour later, Mitch was snoring softly.

“Get those off him and get some coffee in here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Most people piss their pants when detained by Homeland Security.”

“Have I offended their sensibilities by dozing? My apologies.”

The door opened and a man clad in all black bent down and unlocked the shackles attached to the floor grates. Another followed just behind, holding out an over-sized mug. Mitch accepted the lukewarm coffee with near glee, finishing it in two gulps.

“Bring us a fresh pot.”

“Yes, sir.”

When Mitch finished another cup, he finally frowned at Mike. “Customs? You pulled me in Customs? That’s pretty low.”

“Sonny shot, a midnight rendezvous with Nicolai Terenari’s daughter and a mad flight to Sicily- what of that growing list of mischievous behavior precludes me from carting your ass off to Guantanamo for an extended vacation?”

Mitch sat in silence, accepting the rebuke. Mike was right. He’d been entirely lax in his reporting considering the pace he’d been keeping.

After a few more minutes of ranting, Mike finally grew quiet. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I deserve that.”

“We thought you were dead, Mitch.” Mike sank down on the table opposite him. “
I
thought you were dead.”

“I apologize. Truly.” Mitch shook his head. “I haven’t been alone since it happened. I’ve had Jimmie or Ashli with me 24/7.”

Mitch could feel him gaging him, trying to decipher his honesty. “You don’t have to believe me but whoever told you your news should have told you that as well.”

“Actually, they did. They said they couldn’t even get near enough to pass a message.”

“So this little dance was because…”

Mike’s eyes narrowed. “Because you deserved it.”

Mitch nodded, accepting. “You took the Chicago and Philly offices?”

“Yeah and didn’t get a damn thing. They go back to business in fourteen days. Has Vinetti made a deal with Terenari?”

Mitch laughed. “Not a chance. There is no love loss there. From either side.”

“War?”

He nodded. “It’s coming. No denying it.”

“Who will win?”

Me, Mitch thought. He leaned forward, his voice soft. “Who do we want to win?”

“Good question. I’ve no idea the answer.”

“Let me know when you find out.”

“What were you doing in Sicily?”

Mitch didn’t hesitate. “Jimmie was meeting with Palmese.”

“Shoring up his ties?”

“I don’t think so,” Mitch caged. “More like searching for safe haven if it's needed.”

“And was it offered?”

“No. But I have no doubt it will be.”

“The last thing we need is Palmese offering Vinetti protection.”

Mitch straightened. “Why is that?”

“That’s just not a relationship we care to foster.”

“Interesting.” Mitch sat in thought a moment then stood up. “Can I go back to work now or is there something else?”

“The Feast of San Gennaro is this week. Tourists have been pouring in for days.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Vinettis have a hand in that?”

“Every family has a hand in it. You know that.”

“But he’s never shown at that dinner Father Lorenzo hosts.”

Mitch leaned against the door frame. “I’ve wondered about that myself. To my knowledge he’s never even sent a representative.”

“Maybe you can-”

“I can’t make him go, Mike. That’s entrapment.”

“But if you could-”

“No.”

“What about you?  You haven’t made an appearance in three years.”

“And you think now, after all this time, when I’m standing beside a Vinetti who has no invitation, is the time to return?” Mitch huffed. “I’m too old for suicide missions.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Mike assured him. “We have the place wired, you know that. They are taking bets on you appearing.”

“Really?  Now that’s intriguing. Who’s betting on what?”

“Never mind that. Just know we have no reason to believe you are in danger.”

“Well, that’s an official order if I ever heard one.”

“Probably,” Mike nodded. “You seem to be your more clear-headed self these days. Placating Terenari, Palmese, Markesi, getting Vinetti a foothold in those night clubs.”

“Legitimate funds.”

“But whatever goes through the back door won’t be. No mob controlled night club is going to be clean.”

“I’d argue that no club on the eastern seaboard is clean.”

“Point taken,” Mike said nodding. “They’re probably all dirty.”

“How do you decide?”

“What?”

“They are all dirty, right?  How do you decide to go after Vinetti rather than the one owned by some Hollywood celebrity or a real estate banker?”

“Mitch, James Vinetti is-”

He waved off the excuse he knew was coming. “Fine, don’t answer.”

“Mitch-”

“Whatever, Mike. Placate someone else. I know what the IOC wants. San Gennaro it is.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“I’ve had men looking all over for you.” Jimmie said, stepping into Mitch’s suite.

“Who found me?”

“No one actually. How do you manage to disappear so completely like that?”

“Jealous?”

Jimmie moved to the bar, pouring himself a drink. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You got a hot date in the middle of the afternoon?”

Mitch continued to button his shirt, looking at Jimmie from the mirror. “Don’t I wish.”

“You don’t seem too happy for a guy dressed so impeccably. Please tell me you aren’t running off to elope or something because that would really fuck up my week.”

He laughed as he finished his tie and took the drink Jimmie offered. “I
am
heading to church actually.”

Jimmie was silent for a minute, watching as Mitch pulled on his overcoat and a silvery scarf that perfectly matched his tie. Only when Mitch pulled a tri-color carnation out of his pocket did Jimmie finally understand. “Oh, shit,” he choked. “San Gennaro.”

Mitch froze. It was not the reaction he had expected. When Jimmie failed to say anything more, Mitch grabbed a bottle of water from the bar, trading it for the whiskey in Jimmie’s hand. He let him take a few gulps before zeroing in on him. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing. Just surprised is all. You haven’t been stateside in years. I just didn’t expect you to be a part of something like that.”

“It’s my heritage, Jimmie. The Sicilian passport pretty much makes it obligatory.”

“Bullshit. There’s probably not another native Sicilian in the bunch.”

Mitch bristled at his tone. “I’m on my own time. But even if I wasn’t-”

Jimmie shook his head. “That came out wrong. I’m not judging your attendance. It was just unexpected.”

“You already said that.”

“So I did.” Jimmie nodded. “Have you been attending long?”

“I haven’t been since before I left for Canada. But, yeah. I attended my first when I was nine.”

“You are indeed a harpoon of mysterious revelations today.”

Mitch sat down on a bar stool, trying to decipher Jimmie’s cryptic comments. “And you look like death. Either explain or let me get to mass before Father Lorenzo has my hide.”

“My father, when he died, was not in the good graces of those sitting at Lorenzo’s table.”

“Killed?”

“No. Not by them.” He shook his head. “But they did not mourn his passing.”

“From what I understand, neither did you.”

“No. Neither did I.”

“So you’ve spent decades living in his shadow?  Is that what this is?”

“Avoiding more like.”

“You should know, avoidance? Not really my thing.”

Jimmie managed a half laugh. “That is the first non-surprising thing you’ve said all afternoon.”

“Get dressed. Father Lorenzo has no tolerance for tardiness.”

“Mitch-”

“No excuses.” Mitch put a confidant hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to make your own history.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“Mitchell Vincenzo!”  Father Lorenzo enveloped him a hug before he’d even entered the parish hall. “The prodigal boy returns!”

“It’s only been a few years.”

“One year is too many.”

“It’s just dinner, Father.”

“Just dinner, pfft!”  He glanced to Mitch’s side. “And introduce me to your new friend.”