His (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)(15)

As far as I’m concerned, everyone else is wasting their lives in the system, playing by the rules. Not me. Currently, I’m pulling in some of the biggest scores I’ve ever landed by working with NFL players. I loan them money, and when they can’t pay back, I use them to help fix games. When the players cooperate, it’s easy cash. I tip off clients, place their bets, and get a generous cut of their winnings. It’s a good racket, but when players like Ronnie White don’t keep up their end of the bargain, I stand to lose a lot of cash and client trust.

“Vinnie, we’re at dinner,” says Pops. He leans forward and points to my head. “You’re thinking business. I can see it in your face.” He pours me a generous glass of some 1954 Cabernet and pushes it under my nose. “Drink.”

It’s not a request. Pops may have taken a step back from the business, but make no mistake. He’s still the fuckin’ boss. I tilt the glass back and take a deep drink. The truth is that I didn’t look pissed because of the money. It was the girl. Aubriella. Just thinking her name gives me a fuckin’ hard-on. I palm it beneath the table and shift until it’s not pressing so hard against my slacks. I used to get songs stuck in my head when I was a kid, and Ma always said the best way to cure it was to just listen to the song. Well, I got this fuckin’ girl in my head worse than any song, and I’m thinking Ma had the right of it. The only way I’m going to get her out of my head is to fuck her again. I planned to be doing that tonight after dinner, but she’s suddenly too good for me? Fuck that. It’s only a matter of time before I get between her legs again.

After dinner, the wives and the women all move to the kitchen to clean up. The men move to the den in Pops’ basement where a somewhat big-name crowd waits. The den is all dark wood, deep red, leather furniture, and everything smells like aged smoke. Pops takes his seat at the poker table and puffs on a cigar while Frankie pours him a scotch. I get a good look around the room and feel suddenly on edge. That’s “No Face” Sanatore talking to Vito Satrielli by the mini-bar. My fists tighten when I see Geo Anastasio leaning against the far wall, smoking a cigar and laughing with two men in suspenders I don’t recognize. Anastasio. What is one of those no-dick assholes doing in my family’s house? Nothing is going to stop me from getting revenge for my little brother, Jackie. But starting a war, getting myself killed, and getting my family killed in the process is not the way to get to him.

I’m pissed as all hell, but I’m not stupid.

This is not the time to pick a fight. There are channels and traditions for starting beefs and wars within the crime families. The Anastasios are old blood, just like my family. Roughing up Tony was a risk, but not suicide. He wasn’t a made guy, so if anyone caught wind of what happened, it would only come back to bite me. If I go after someone who’s a full-blown member of the Anastasio familia without permission? That would put the mark on every last Citrione. I squeeze my fists until my knuckles crack, but swallow my rage. For now.

As much as I want revenge, she keeps pulsing in my mind, refusing to let me focus on anything for too long before I see the smooth skin of her long legs and the beckoning darkness between her thighs. I keep remembering how fuckin’ good she tasted, how good her cunt felt around my cock.

The back door to the basement opens and Jimmy Fingers lets himself in. He’s wearing a plain brown coat and some faded jeans. He makes his way to me, noticing the unusually high-profile crowd and frowning as he approaches.

“What did you find?” I ask him quietly.

He shakes his head. “I followed her to work. She watched the Jets practice, asked some players a few questions, and then she went home. Look, I think before you showed up earlier, she was about to start talking to that friends of hers. It’s not my call, Vince, but if she had dirt on me? I’d put her down.”

I grab him by his jacket and pin him to the wall. For a second, all I see is red. I nearly lose my cool and hit him, but I shake my head and let him down. This is not the place to lose my cool. I have to remind myself it’s not just the familia down here like usual. Something’s going on, something big. I just don’t know what it is yet, and Pops apparently didn’t think I needed to know ahead of time.

I run a hand through my hair. I should probably apologize to Jimmy, but fuck it. They all think I’m a prick, so why should I start surprising them now. Besides, it’s easier to get shit done when people are afraid of you, even your friends.

“Why aren’t you tailing her now?” I ask through gritted teeth.