Rivals: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance (Mafia Elite, ebook 7)

Chapter One

Mia

I felt the change in the air and in my bones as I gripped the doorknob, preparing to face whatever trap my stepbrother had set for me that day.

I had work to do, but I couldn’t stay. Things were too dangerous, especially if Ricco and my father discovered that the problems cropping up with the sex-trafficking ring they ran—the broken-down trucks and missing girls—were because of me.

I’m the rat. To be caught would have been a fate worse than death. Since my existence sometimes bordered on that, anyway, I had to listen to my gut. It was screaming to leave.

Slipping out of my bedroom, I measured each breath as my heels clicked on the wood floor and I neared the stairway that would lead me closer to my escape. I would leave with the clothes on my back, a stockpile of weapons strategically strapped to my body, and Mom’s elegant gold-bar necklace with the miniature chamomile flower etched in the base, which I never left home without.

For the fifteen years since she’d died, I’d been playing an elaborate chess game with my father, Ricco, and my life. But over the past few months, things had escalated. I wouldn’t have put anything past Ricco, and that morning was no different. It was a game of cat and mouse, and I damn well would not be the mouse in the end.

I crept along the hallway until I was two steps from the second-floor landing when the click of a door opening shattered my focus. Pure evil permeated the air, causing the fine hairs all over my body to rise. The familiar cloying scent of my stepbrother’s strong cologne announced his presence, and I tensed to run.

A punishing grip closed around my upper arm, jerking my body back, and I lost my footing, falling into the hallway table and vase. Glass shattered in a crash across the floor. I fell into the shards of glass, pain piercing my hip as I felt something sharp tear through my skin.

I pushed off the ground, ignoring the blood that trickled down my leg from the gash. He grabbed me again and jerked. I stiffened, refusing to fall into him. A pinch in my upper arm had me craning my neck and looking over my shoulder to see what he’d done.

Ricco grinned at me. He’d stabbed me with a needle.

Freezing liquid raced up my arm as his hand clamped over my mouth. I struggled, kicking back, but his hand only tightened as he waited for the drug to work. Within minutes, I felt the foreign substance take effect, infecting my blood and making my movements languid. I met the eyes of my tormentor before I lost the ability to fight.

“Hello, sis.” Dark intent churned within his obsidian gaze, and a malicious smirk grazed his face. I should have experienced a surge of adrenaline. I didn’t. The drug’s effects were swift, and my body was no longer my own to control.

He hefted me over a broad shoulder, and my arms flopped by the side of my head. My thoughts were sluggish, but I tried to pay attention as he turned and went in the opposite direction from where I’d been headed. With each step, the effort to keep my eyes open became too great. Not even the fear of where he was taking me or what it meant for my future could stop the darkness from descending.

Time blinked in and out, creating a slideshow of still images: the hallway, the back seat of a black sedan, arctic-gray cement floors, and a row of windowless, locked doors. Finally, a white ceiling remained as a fixed viewpoint for what seemed like—and probably was—hours. How long have I been in here? Without my phone, or any sort of clock, I couldn’t tell how much time had passed since Ricco had tossed me on this lumpy cot.

A tsunami of dread rose, and I balanced precariously on the crest of the giant wave as I became more aware of my surroundings. Sensation returned in increments, starting with my fingers and toes.

A stuttered influx of adrenaline fired through me as the tan steel door opened, and my stepbrother walked into the room. His dark shoulder-length hair was slicked back in his signature ponytail. My gaze dropped to the deep indentation in his chin, where he had trouble shaving the whiskers that grew within, so he wore a perpetual five o’clock shadow. It didn’t matter—that spot was still noticeable and a chink in his armor, something I used to tease him about unmercifully when we were teenagers. I called him “Buttface” and told him his chin reminded me of a hairy butthole. It was mean, but he did worse things.

I snapped my attention back to him, working hard to focus on what he was saying. My lips tingled as feeling returned to them, and I fought from grimacing. There was no point in letting him know how much of the drug had worn off.

He glanced at his watch, a ten-thousand-dollar monstrosity of gold and diamonds. “Our father has decided to marry you to that politician.”

Not your father, asshole. It was a wasted thought because Dad sure as hell preferred Ricco. Not only that, but he would hand over the reins to the family legacy to him, the boy he took in after the death of the captain of our guard, Ricco’s birth father.

The conversation I’d overheard the night before between my dad and stepbrother about marriage wreaked havoc in my mind as I considered who I might be paired with and how my father would benefit.

The Verretti boss was out. Dante had declined my father’s proposition for an arrangement between our families, including my marrying either of his two brothers. Since they were no longer candidates, my father pivoted in another direction—a very powerful and well-connected politician. I did not want that life. Nor would I be safe. There was only one way I would be protected, and I needed to figure out how to achieve that.

I’d edged closer to the office door the night before to better hear the fate of my future. But when Ricco threw his name into the pot, I’d made myself scarce. He was a snake, and I wouldn’t have put it past him to go behind my father’s back to benefit his position in the family. Each day was much of the same as I eased myself closer to being trapped with a man I wouldn’t choose.

I needed a plan.

Ricco’s upper lip curled, and I forced myself to listen to the venom he was spewing. “We have enough people in our pocket in government positions. Your marriage to one of them would be a wasted opportunity.”

I held my breath. Whatever was coming, it wouldn’t be good.

“What we need is an ally, and Guido is very interested in providing that through his marriage to you.”

I gave up part of the farce and voiced how ignorant Ricco was. “Guido Amato isn’t an underboss anymore. His position was stripped from him by his stupidity.” The son and former underboss of one of New York’s Mafia families wasn’t someone I’d ever liked. And his recent stunt had cost him his position in the family. Messing with the Five Families was asinine, and Guido had been lucky to escape with his life.

My foot dangled off the mattress, and Ricco tapped it with his, watching closely for a physical response to see if the drug had worn all the way off. When none came, I knew it bought me a little time, and I had to use every second.

“In a few short weeks, Guido will be boss of his family with his new wife by his side—you.”

I snorted because the only way that would happen was if he murdered his father. After the stunt he’d pulled trying to get to Summer, whom the Chicago Mafia had protected, I doubted his ability to infiltrate any rank close enough to the Amato boss to fulfill that goal.

“And as a bonus,” Ricco continued, ignoring my derision, “he’ll control everything about your future and get you out of my way.”

I bet. But I would not willingly tie myself to Guido. “I fail to see how that’ll help you, especially going against Dad’s decision about the politician. What do you think will happen to you when he finds out?” That hated sly grin spread across his face as I goaded him, making the cleft in his chin more apparent. I didn’t like his reaction, not one bit. “He’ll discover your hand in it. You can’t be that foolish to think Dad won’t know you were the one to betray him.”

“I’ve got it covered.” He glanced at his atrocious watch again. “This was a courtesy warning to give you time to mentally prepare for your wedding and what’ll follow.” He winked. “Guido will be here to collect you within the hour.”

After dropping that panic-inducing timeline on me, he left. The door clicked loudly as it closed, and the silence that followed his departure felt ominous. I had half an hour at most for the drug to wear off enough to get the hell out of there.

I moved any part of my body that hadn’t succumbed to numbness. I balled then relaxed my fists, curling my feet while turning this way and that to take in every inch of the room I was in. A dull pain throbbed at my hip, and I pulled down the waistband of my pants to peer at what was wrong. The sight of a bandage brought back how I’d fallen on the broken shards of the vase when Ricco had manhandled me. Tugging a corner of the tape back, I winced at the poor stich job. That’ll scar horribly.

There was nothing I could do but keep it covered and clean. I stuck the corner of tape back to my skin and pushed the injury from my mind to take stock of what was really important—how I was going to escape. And to do that, I needed to gather all the information of my surroundings that I could.

The walls were bare but for a small blurry scratch in a one-inch section of drywall where the doorjamb met the wall. Was it a name carved into the drywall or a symbol? It wouldn’t have been visible if the door was swung open. I couldn’t make out if it was significant.

I knew precisely where Ricco had brought me—away from the house and into a club owned by the family in the heart of Manhattan. Those particular rooms were deep in the bowels of the earth. The steel door led to a windowless room with only a narrow cot and a drain in the middle of the floor—one of the holding cells for when women were brought in before assimilating into the back rooms of the club as sex workers. I was repulsed.

At night, the hallways crawled with men who had access to the rooms—and the drugged women within. Some of the women would remain there until they died. The club was the perfect cover for the depraved customers who ventured down there.

I’d only snuck into that area once before, when my plan to shut down the sex trafficking ring had been in its infancy. I had to take action. I shook away the past, the concern for those locked behind these doors, and the fact that I was no help to them. Not today. And not like this.

Despite the fear of what could happen to me, I kept moving and gaining more control, the anesthetized sensation ebbing as the minutes ticked by. When I could sit up and fully move my arms, I searched for any weapons Ricco could have missed that I’d hidden under my clothes.

The knife sheathed to my arm was gone, and he’d found the ones strapped to my thigh, the gun, and the blade tethered to my forearm beneath the sleeve of my sweater. My breath came faster as panic kicked in, but I held it at bay. There were things he wouldn’t know.

I yanked the hem of my sweater up to access the underwire of my black lace bra. The wire was thicker than it should have been, but he wouldn’t have noticed that. I concentrated my efforts on two small slits on the inside where the curved metal began. I pried the small tool from within the hollowed-out support using my nails. With one from the right and then the left, I had tools to pick the lock.

I slipped off my shoes then used my nail to depress the hidden button near the base of the stiletto, and the encasement slid off to reveal a sharply pointed dagger in place of the heel. I clutched my meager weapons then pushed myself off the bed on shaky legs and tiptoed to the door, not knowing how much time had passed. My heart pounded, and my limbs shook. Before I attempted the lock, I peered at the mark scratched into the paint on the wall. Bile climbed my throat. I know what that is and who put it there.

It was a tiny chamomile flower, representing strength in adversity, the same one my mom used to draw or etch into anything she wanted me to pay close attention to. The same one was on the necklace I wore and the jewelry box where we used to leave each other notes and trinkets that I’d relocated into a getaway bag.

What the hell was she doing in a holding cell?

I rested my head on the door and took several deep breaths. I couldn’t afford to get distracted. The mystery of why the flower was there would have to wait another day when I was far away from this place.

Once I regulated my emotions, I carefully threaded the tools into the lock, working them silently, listening and feeling for the click that would free me. When it happened, I jumped to my feet with my stiletto in hand, the dangerous blade facing out. Yanking the door open as hard and fast as I could, I pushed through the threshold as the lone guard stationed in the hall turned, his hand on his gun.

He was taller than Ricco but not wider. My left hand curled around his forearm to slow his momentum. I couldn’t match his strength. I had one chance, and I was taking it.

I fell against him. He caught me. Using his confusion, I swung with all my might and sank the razor-sharp blade into his throat then tugged down. A gurgling sound escaped his lips. Using all my weight, I jerked him toward the room’s entrance. He crumpled to the floor as he clutched the gushing wound. Eyes wide, he tried to staunch the flow of blood that pulsed from where I’d stuck him in the carotid artery.

I didn’t feel bad. He worked for Ricco, and my best interests were not his concern.

As I stepped over him and kicked his weapon away, he weakly made a grab for my shoe. The bulk of his body kept the door firmly open. I wedged my other stiletto in the crack of the doorway, not caring that it cut into the leather. I needed that door to stay where it was.

His legs would be the easiest to move, so I grabbed both behind the knees, stepped fully into the room, and spun his body so there was enough space for the door to close. Like dead weight, his legs hit the ground when I released them. I retrieved the gun and tucked it into the back of my pants. Blood pooled beneath the guard as his life slowly ebbed.

I yanked the blade from his neck and then cleaned it on his clothes before slipping the outer casing back into place. My tools went back into the hollowed-out wires—I couldn’t take the chance of losing them in case I had to break out of somewhere else. I peeked around the door and listened. After a few seconds, when I didn’t hear any alarms, I carefully closed the door behind me.

If I could reach the exit, I knew I would make it. It wasn’t far. But time was working against me. I raced down the empty hallway with my shoes in hand, blocking the ominous doors and the women who might be behind them from my mind. The best way for me to help them was to get out of there.

As I skidded around a corner that led to the stairwell, deep voices filtered down the corridor. I was two floors below the exit to the alleyway. My heart jackhammered against my ribs as I shoved hard off the balls of my feet. When I grasped the push bar to access the stairwell, the distinctive sound of Guido’s laugh trilled much too close.

Fear crawled along my spine. I pushed the bar then slipped inside just as I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I eased the door shut with great care, trying not to make a sound, then gripped the railing to support my shaking legs as I fled up the two flights of stairs.

My ears strained for any sound of pursuit. Could I have gotten lucky enough that they hadn’t seen me? God, I hoped so. But even if I had, they would find the dead guard and the fact that I was missing. I had minutes—possibly seconds—until they sounded the alarm and dragged me back.

The cold metal beneath my hands taunted me with freedom as I pushed with all my might. I burst from the building, and arctic-cold air slapped me in the face. The icy pavement froze my feet. I allowed myself a few blinks to adjust to the brightness of the morning as I took a precious second to slip on my heels. Rough brick scratched my palm as I leaned against it. Once my feet were covered, I raced through the alley. At the end, I joined the crowds of intelligent people bundled in coats, hats, and scarves against the elements on the sidewalk.

My current path would take me to the trains. They wouldn’t expect me to do that. In their eyes, hailing a cab or calling for a car and going to my father to inform him of what Ricco had done would make more sense—or so I hoped. Either way, I needed to lose myself in a crowd and become invisible.

Shivers wracked my body, and my breath fogged the air. With each yard I gained, I checked off what I’d done and what had to be accomplished to disappear. The escape path had been set in motion when I’d found the key Mom had hidden for me beneath the jewelry box drawer. Once I’d figured out what it had unlocked and where, I added to the stash of money and weapons she’d left me within the locker. I’d hid the key nearby in case of an emergency that would keep me from going home.

Time passed in agonizing slowness as I sprinted down the steps to the trains, weaving around people. Once on board, I fell into a seat, careful to keep my head down. I needed a disguise—a hat, a coat, something to cover my hair. As the train sped to the next stop, I studied the passengers. It was warmer inside but not enough for people to remove their coats. A newspaper lay on one of the seats, abandoned. I leaned forward and picked it up. It would have to do. There were cameras, and I needed to stay off them so Ricco wouldn’t be able to find me.

It was a short trek from the train to the bus terminal where everything was stashed. The key was hidden nearby. It wouldn’t be long until I came to the stop where I could retrieve everything Mom and I had hidden in the locker. Thank God I’d overheard Ricco’s conversation with Dad.

There was only one place I could go to regroup: the Cayman Islands and to Nico La Rosa, the man who could be my salvation—or my ultimate destruction.

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