Ties That Bind (8 page)

Jimmie shook his head. “No way. Hired someone perhaps but not himself.”

“I can only tell you what I hear,” Bernie shrugged. “I can look into Kerlin for you. See if there’s a connection there I missed somewhere but my guess is he’s wanting information on the hit to see what Kerlin knows.”

“It would make it difficult for him to kill Mitch since he’s now on my payroll,” Jimmie leveled a gaze at Bernie. “Or is he wanting Mitch on his payroll?”

“I think that was the intent of many, Jimmie.”

“This kid have balls of gold or what?” he grumbled. “He’s already caused me more grief than half the people working for me. I’m still trying to figure out if this was a mistake or not.”

Bernie hesitated, a nervous twitch that Jimmie had memorized over the years. It always meant he had news that he didn’t really want to share but felt obligated to. “What else?”

“He was at Palmese’s deportation hearings.”

“What?” he was up now, pacing the floor next to Bernie. “He would’ve just been a kid. Why was he at something like that?”

“I haven’t been able to find any connection between them. Nothing. But he was there. It’s in the court documents.”

“Did you talk to Gino?”

Bernie frowned. “Palmese isn’t going to talk to me.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Jimmie nodded. “I’ll have to contact him myself.”

“You could always just ask Mitch.”

Jimmie glared at him as if he’d just sprouted antlers. “Stupid suggestions like that are exactly why Gino won’t talk to you,” he hissed. He was pacing again, his mind now on Gino – the capo di tutti capo. They had made an alliance years before but it was tentative – everything with Gino was tentative. He could love you one moment and, without taking a breath, order your execution. Why Mitch, who could only have been fifteen or sixteen at the time Gino was deported, would have sat amid the weeks of boring, incessant hearings was a puzzle. Perhaps his family had forced him to go. Perhaps he had gone just to see the famous mobster be put away. He could understand if they had some relationship together but that was impossible – Jimmie and everyone in
la familia
, for that matter, would have known long ago if there was some bond between the two.

“About Terenari-”

“Set up the meet,” Jimmie nodded, trying to get his mind back on his immediate concerns. “Somewhere neutral. Chicago, first thing next month. The quicker we get him dealt with, the better off all of us will be.”

“Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER NINE

It had taken him two hours to find this place. He could have easily asked someone directions but trolling the grounds of the massive estate had been able to calm the rage Ashli had evoked in him. It wasn’t that he had some aversion to being shot at – that was part of his daily job description. It was that she had taken the time, the forethought, to actually plan something so devilishly clever. And she had done it methodically, making certain to hire people that would shoot but not kill either of them. His life hadn’t actually been in danger. He released a breath of exasperation, leaning his body against the cold, anise colored stones that had once been a stable for horses. He had underestimated her desperation.

He glanced down the field to where targets had been set up by some of Jimmie’s bodyguards. It was a longer distance than he would normal fire at, 45 feet at least, but the length didn’t concern him. He had learned to carry and fire a gun years before he’d had sex…killing someone at any distance was now as ingrained in him as walking. Reaching down he picked up his Colt, a 45 ACP, its hand engraved blue steel barrel glimmering under the rising sunlight. He held it loosely, letting it settle into the creases of his hand until the familiar weight was balanced and he could no longer make a distinction between his hand and the weapon.

He fired quickly, glancing at the target only once. Rapid shots rang out, his ears immune to the sound, and when he’d emptied the clip he reached for another he had in tucked in his waistband. He shut his eyes, firing round after round as Ashli’s face flittered through his psyche. First, her polished corporate image, then the fleeting anger at her brother, the sensual stares that made men melt, the childlike mortification when he’d thrown her out of his room after turning her down. Yes, he had underestimated her. But it wouldn’t happen again.

“Mitch?” her voice was soft, wary even, and he didn’t bother to turn. “Please, can’t I talk to you?”

He glanced at her, taking note of the jeans and t-shirt, the way her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Perhaps she had figured he would react better to her if she played a more vulnerable female. He looked away, aiming and firing again, wondering if he had enough bullets left to keep himself occupied long enough to avoid her. He doubted it.

“They weren’t to kill anyone,” she offered.

“I killed two of them, Ashli. Defending you when you needn’t be defended. How does that sit on your conscious?”

“Obviously not as hard as it does on yours.”

Tucking his gun back into his waistband, he pushed past her and began walking back to the compound. “I refuse to continue this discussion.”

“You can’t refuse,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward her. “You work here now, in case you’ve forgotten. Do you intend to never speak to me again?”  The venom in his eyes told her that was exactly his plan. “Please,” she dropped her voice, “at least give me the chance to explain. If for no other reason than you deserve to know what you’ve gotten yourself in to.”

Curiosity was apparently another of his downfalls because Mitch couldn't resist her baiting. Reaching his hand out, he beckoned for her to lead the way. He wasn't surprised when she led him away from the estate house and further into the back gardens. This was apparently going to be a conversation she didn't want Jimmie to overhear. That, in itself, was intriguing enough but when she sank down on a stone bench edging the grounds and her eyes brimmed with tears, Mitch's patience was finally gone.

“Tears, Ashli?” he asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Tell me I'm imagining your latest drama.”

“I expected anger but not hate.”

“Hate requires emotion. Try apathy.”

“Do I deserve that?”

“Undoubtedly. I killed two people for you. Innocent people.”

“Not so innocent. Otherwise they wouldn't have taken the job,” she tried to reason. “Besides, most people in your position don't think twice about shooting someone.”

“I am
not
most people,” he growled.

“I’m learning that. So you know, they were heroin dealers from the East Side. You did the world a service.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“My brother does the best he can to keep me from the dark side of our world. But I’m not an idiot, Mitch. Despite your current opinion of me, I did this for him.”

“Really? How does that work exactly?”

“He doesn’t realize it, Mitch. You said it yourself - our security is in shambles. But he’s so fucking worried about me that he doesn’t realize it. Business is suffering. I’m sure you know that from word on the street. Not enough it can’t be absorbed, of course, but it’s not changing. We’re getting to be known as the trouble-makers.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“If it took something like this to open his eyes, to make him face up to what the hell is go on around us then so be it. I’d do it again if it means keeping him alive.”

“So you want me to believe you did this to keep him safe?” Mitch queried. “To keep the business safe? That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“You lied to him, betrayed him, for his own good?”  Mitch leaned forward, his eyes glinting. “Are you sure that’s the story you want to stick with?”

The response caught in her throat. “Yes.”

Mitch exhaled. Leaning back in the chair, he watched her. He was unnerving her, he could tell, but to her credit she remained silent and accepting of the non-verbal rebuke he was giving her. “I’ll do the security revamp. If only to protect him from you, Ashli.”

“I can accept that. I deserve that.”

“I don’t kill for your amusement. I don’t kill because someone pissed you off. But nor will I kill because you took some random guy to your bed and Jimmie wants him gone. Understood?”

She nodded.

“The whole point in what I do is that killing is no longer necessary. Jimmie’s safety, and yours for that matter, shouldn’t be contingent on how well someone can aim. You should feel safe at all times. That’s my job. Not anything else.”

She nodded.

“I cannot stress this clearly enough. No more feds. Not one. Nodding doesn’t work for this one.” In a swift move, he pinned her into the chair, his grip tight on her legs. His eyes locked with hers and his voice was a low growl. “You will not ever bring a fed into your bed again. Promise it.”

She nodded but Mitch didn’t move. Instead, he tightened his hold on her. Her eyes brimmed with pain filled tears but she met his gaze. “Yes. I promise I will not ever bring a fed into my bed.”

“We are clear?”

“Crystal.”

Mitch let her go, heard the thick exhale of air she’d been holding. He could see her body shaking and, for a moment, considered leaving her to stew in her fear. Instead, he stepped behind her, dropping his lips to her ear. “And for the record? Red lace? Not my style.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“You do that.”

CHAPTER TEN

Mitch insisted on interviewing all 412 employees in the executive building personally. It took weeks but each one was scrutinized - their childhoods, their marriages, their rankings at the golf course or bowling alleys - all at issue. Complaining resulted in immediate dismissal (that was Jimmie’s decision) and any failure to show was met with a guarded security escort at the employee’s front door. The result meant only a skeleton crew was left and, as Mitch had anticipated, Jimmie soon knew each one by name. When it came time to start hiring new crew, Mitch demanded Jimmie make each decision personally - relegating Ashli to bystander status. Even worse (in her eyes), he’d saddled her with a trio of bodyguards that were old enough to be her grandfathers.

“Do you ever take a night off?”

“Do you?” Mitch countered, leaning back in the leather chair he’d called home for the past few weeks. Although they’d offered him an office beside their own, he had turned them down. Instead, he preferred the terrace level which had floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the main casino floor.

Jimmie shrugged and sank down onto the sofa edging the windows. “Don’t you get tired of being caged up in this glass house all day?”

Mitch laughed. “You’ve no idea. The new security system will be up and running tonight. You can run a test on it whenever you like.”

“Like a drill?”  Jimmie asked, his curiosity piqued.

He nodded and moved to the windows. “It has several different levels depending on the threat or concern. See that new silver metal trim along the outer drop ceiling?” he asked, pointing to the casino floor as Jimmie moved to stand beside him. “If the casino alarm is tripped either by an individual or by remote via the cash weight-”

“Cash weight?”

“Each cash drawer has a specific weight. You already had limits on withdrawals so I just enhanced that policy. If too much cash, by weight, is removed at once from the drawer without a passcode the casino will go into lockdown. Gates drop from each of those metal trims...no one, staff or customer, is going anywhere.”

“Fort Knox uses a similar tactic,” Jimmie nodded appreciatively. “I watched a documentary once.”

Mitch laughed. “Good to know. I wouldn’t want to add robbing the federal bank reserve to my resume.”

“What about unsavory characters?”

“By unsavory I assume you mean those against the family?  We’ve installed facial recognition software. It loads all known criminals that go through the Interpol and local booking systems. Those not arrested can be input manually and you can install permanent overrides for specific persons.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Well, the most obvious reason? I had to override the system to stop flagging you. It would go off and send alerts to the staff every time you did your daily walks on the floor. Damned annoying that I got woken up every time you took those 2am strolls to find a girl for the night.”

“Bit sensitive that.”

“No. It’s allowing you to control who you trust enough to have access where.”

“Did you override for Ashli?”

“She doesn’t have a record, it wasn’t necessary.”

“You? Did you override it for yourself?”

“No. That’s your call to make, not mine.”

“Bet that’s annoying them even more. You never sleep.”

“Yeah, it’s a struggle,” Mitch shrugged. “They are handling it, though. You can also red alert someone. I did take the liberty of adding Alex’s brother’s name to that list. If he enters at any point, the upper floors and all elevators go into lockdown. It leaves him stuck on the public floor and security has protocols on how to approach from each direction.”