For Luca (Chicago Syndicate Book 2) (8 page)

Adriano and I pass the swarm of people outside the front entrance of – what is officially – Club 7.

“How is it this busy on a Monday night?” I wonder out loud.

“This club is open seven nights a week. I’ve heard it’s always busy, but I’m pretty sure that’s thanks to the area we’re going to visit and not the actual club.”

We round the corner to the other entrance, and I hold my phone up so the bouncer can scan the barcode Henry sent me to grant us access.

He takes my phone and holds the screen against his device. After handing it back, he steps aside. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”

We descend two steps, and the heavy steel doors of the club open into a long, dimly lit corridor. A muffled thumping of the bass meets my ears. Andy Warhol pop art of pin-ups hang along both walls, and at the end of the corridor, we step through an archway in the wall and into a dark grey room where we are greeted by a blonde beauty in a tight black suit dress cut down low and black stilettos. 

Adriano gawks at her cleavage a moment too long, but she just smiles and holds out her hand for my phone.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Her voice is raspy, adding to her sex appeal.

“Good evening.” I hand it over, and she scans the barcode on the screen.

“Mr. DeMiliano, Mr. Montesi.” She takes a bag from the floor and turns back to us with a smile. “Please hand over your weapons. They’ll be returned to you at the end of the night.”

The archway we stepped through must be the metal detector. Bending down, I get my handgun out and untie the ankle holster. Adriano removes his piece from his back waistband, and we drop them into the black bag she holds open for us. She reveals a safe behind one of the posters and secures the bag in it. Then she presses a silver button next to the door in the opposite wall, and it opens into an elevator.

She indicates for us to enter. “Have a wonderful evening.”

The elevator closes and starts its descent.

“She’s fucking hot,” Adriano remarks.

I smile because I can’t deny that.

The door opens, and we’re welcomed by another beauty in the same black attire, this time a redhead. I shoot Adriano a grin over my shoulder because fiery redheads are his weakness.

“Mr. DeMiliano, Mr. Montesi, I see it’s your first time at our club. Would you like me to show you around?”

I hold up my hand while taking in the massive round room with a huge golden chandelier hanging in the middle, dimly illuminating the room in soft yellow. “No, thanks.”

She frowns and hides it quickly, but I’m already moving forward. Jazz music drowns out the murmurs and moans of the voices of maybe a hundred people here. Set up along the entire rounded wall are beds with see-through drapes, and there’s a bar in the center of the room. Naked women and clothed men flow on the dance floor around the bar.

“They’re fucking.” Adriano jerks his head to one of the beds on the left.

“What did you expect? We’re in the sex club. Find the way to the fight club.”

Fat Sal owns Club 7. The first floor is a legal, highly profitable dance club. Club 7 Underground – where we are now – is a high-end sex club and fight club. The fight club is Sal’s most profitable venture, and I think Camilla is tied to that fight club somehow.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to focus with all this bare skin everywhere.” His eyes dart around.

“I bet. Now find out how to get into the fight club.”

Henry told me that access to the fight club is nearly impossible. The only way in is through the sex club or through Fat Sal. Adriano and I split up, and I’m chatting the bartender up when the redhead interrupts us.

“Mr. DeMiliano, could you come with me?”

“Where to?”

“Sal would like to talk to you,
Luca
.”

She emphasizes my first name, but I don’t know why.

The Syndicate’s business dealings focus only on the world of drugs. This world, the underworld of sex and fight clubs, is unfamiliar territory for me. While we – James and I – are intentionally vague about the hierarchy in our Syndicate for our own protection, it does lead to situations where I’ve been mistaken for the boss, the
Capo crimine,
instead of the underboss. And the fact that we have four instead of three high ranking men also throws people off.

Every Syndicate usually has three high ranks: one – the
Capo crimine
, two – the underboss, and three – the
Consigliere
. The underboss usually has several
Capi,
so-called captains, working for him, and these
Capi
take care of the actual drug dealings. The
Capi
have
soldiers working for them, and these
soldiers report to their own
Capo
. The
Capi
report to the underboss. The underboss reports to the
Capo crimine
and keeps his lawyer/
Consigliere
constantly informed on everything.

Our four high ranks include: one –
Capo crimine
James, two – underboss, three –
Capo
Adriano, and four –
Consigliere
Salvatore
.
I use Adriano as my number one
Capo
, the other two
Capi
usually report to Adriano instead of me. When I’m indisposed, Adriano is next in command. That’s a high privilege for a
Capo
, but James knew I would never agree to be his underboss without Adriano. And James trusts both Adriano and me. The counselor or
Consigliere
is also highly important.
Consigliere
takes care of all legal issues and must be informed on everything. The hierarchy is quite clear to us; however, it’s confusing to others, which is exactly our intent.

I have a feeling that Fat Sal thinks I am his equal from the drug world, but that’s not the case – James is his equal. Fat Sal is the
Capo crimine
– the boss – of Chicago’s fight clubs. James and I made it our business to know the basics of all criminal activity in Chicago, whether drug related or not. Most Mafia bosses are only up to date on their own sector and the parties they work with. Fat Sal buys batches of drugs for his sex club from Alessandro, one of my two other
Capi
.

“Fine. Mr. Montesi is coming too,” I inform and signal to Adriano, who was already watching her approach me, to join us.

Adriano falls into step next to me as we follow her back out and turn into another long hallway. This place is a maze.

Adriano whispers, “What’s wrong?”

“Sal wants to talk.”

We’re shown into the office belonging to Sal, who swivels around in his black leather desk chair when we enter. Fat Sal does his name justice. He’s fat with a huge, round stomach and is dressed in a crisp, white, too-tight dress shirt, but he’s clean shaven, extremely tanned, and flashes us his white teeth.

“DeMiliano, to what do I owe the honor of Chicago Syndicate royalty visiting my humble establishment?”

His guard closes the door behind us. “Sal, this is Adriano.” I don’t elaborate on his rank or mine because I still believe Sal presumes that I’m the
Capo crimine
. Sal has a reputation of ruling his sex and fight club with an iron fist; he’s ruthless. But we’ve never had any altercations with him. He seems mellow and at ease since we’re in his territory. “I’m actually looking for someone, hoping you could help me.”

He signals to the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.” 

“No, thanks. I can keep it short. I’m looking for Camilla Guilermo.”

“Why?”

“She used to work for me and disappeared suddenly after we had some issues at my house,” I reveal the truth, partly.

Fat Sal trades glances with his bodyguard. “The name does sound familiar.”

He’s fishing to find out how much I’m willing to pay for the information. “Her classified records led me here. By the way, I can have every trace to your club removed by my hacker. He’s the best.”

“Deal. Come, we go to the fight club.”

That was unexpectedly easy. Adriano and I lock eyes briefly and follow Sal out and onto the elevator to head one level lower.

When the elevator doors open, Sal’s lips spread into a proud grin. “This is my Batcave.”

Applause and shouts from hundreds of people meet my ears in the underground arena. The place is maybe ten times the size of the sex club above but with similar rounded walls. The brightest part in the room is the caged podium in the center where the fight is going on.

As Sal leads the way, people part. The smell of blood and sweat infuses the air. Three men dressed as gladiators are fighting with medieval equipment. Red covers the podium, and I’m stunned at the crazed excitement blazing in the crowd’s eyes. People are groping, kissing, cheering, and fucking like a bunch of lunatics.

While I’ve heard rumors of captives in this club, it’s obvious from seeing multiple women strung up on the wall with tears streaming down their terrified faces that they’re not here of their own free will. The entire atmosphere is contradictory to the sophisticated club one floor up. I look over my shoulder to Adriano, who’s also taking everything in and quickly scoping the place out.

A dark-haired man in a suit crosses our path, and I notice a silver cross pendant that glistens in the light hanging out of his pants pocket. Apart from Adriano and me, no one is dressed in a suit down here.

Sal stops his movement and reads a text message before turning around and heading back to the elevator. “The guy we need to talk to is upstairs,” he explains when we step through the doors and ascend.

What the fuck was that about? Showing off his depraved fight club?

We dutifully follow him back to his office where another man is waiting in, yet again, a black suit.

Sal introduces the other man. “Santino, DeMiliano and Montesi. Camilla Guilermo? Ring a bell?’

Santino answers, “She used to work here.”

Adriano’s annoyance is vibrating off of him, and I’m not sure if he can handle hearing that she’s part of the fight club.

“She was one of our ladies.” Santino puts it nicely.

Adriano speaks before I can. “Sex club or fight club?”

“Fight club,” Santino replies.

Adriano’s hand balls into a fist.

We need to get out of here before Adriano loses it.

“Sal, Santino, thanks for the information. I’ll take care of our end of the deal.” I look to Sal, and he dips his chin in farewell.

The redhead is waiting outside the door and escorts us back up to retrieve our weapons. We hurry out of there and don’t speak until we slide into his car.

Adriano braces his neck with one hand. “Fucking creepy place.”

“Why the hell did he take us down there?” I’m still slightly nauseated by what we witnessed.

“It’s weird that this place exists in the middle of the city.” He starts the car and waits for another vehicle to pass before driving down the street. “And Cam worked there? I can’t believe it. It makes me sick thinking about what they might’ve done to her. She’s so much more damaged than I ever thought.”

My phone vibrates, and I check the screen: James.

“You went to Fat Sal’s?” he spits angrily.

Thrown off by his tone, I reply, “Yeah. Why?”

“Meet me within thirty minutes at your place. Adriano too. Come down to get me from the garage entrance because I’m not entering through the front.”

“Si.”
Yes.

“James wants to talk to us,” I say.

***

“Next time, you call me before you do something like this,
Capito?
” Understood?  James paces behind Adriano and me into the kitchen.

I strip my jacket and toss it over the barstool. “No, what exactly is the problem here?” Looking over to Adriano, he mirrors my amazed reaction.

James has one hand in his pocket and the other pressed flat against the cold kitchen counter. “I look the other way often with the two of you. But don’t forget that I am your
Capo crimine
. I decide what business is most important, and I don’t want two of my best men going into that club unarmed.”

I undo the top button of my dress shirt. “Okay. But we did learn something. Camilla used to work at the fight club.”

James’ eyes narrow. “Why are you two so interested in Camilla?”

“Because it’s possible she planted the bomb,” I confess.

He hurriedly circles his hand, signaling for me to continue.

“She and Fallon tried to escape the house once, right by that hedge near where the bomb went off.”

James’ discontent is turned on me, then on Adriano while he rubs his fingers over his lips. “I
do
know everything that goes on in that house. Usually.”