Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1) (94 page)

“He’s doing what suits him.” She folded her arms.

“Don’t be so fast to judgement. You may not know all there is to know about Pierce Agostini.”

“He kidnapped me, Dino.”

“I’m sure it was nothing personal.”

“I know that he’s a gangster. A hoodlum. That he’s a ruthless criminal and he’s taken my daddy’s club from him by force.”

“Listen, Princess, I knew Pierce Agostini a long time. Since we were in high school together. We were in a pretty comfortable neighborhood, but his daddy went through some bad times.

“Pierce grew up tough because he had to. He’d started to run his first gang in high school.”

“Forgive me, Dino, but you aren’t making him sound very angelic yet.”

“Wait up there.” He smiled and held his hand palm downwards. “Don’t be too impatient, Princess.” His lips pressed together as his head shook. “There was a kid, Knuckle we all called him. People thought it was because he was hard, but the only scary thing about Knuckle was his face.
 

“Not what anyone would call a looker, you know? People would say, ‘Only a mother could love him.’ Only Knuckle didn’t have a mother. Got herself killed in a skiing accident.

“She was on a blue run, sheets to the wind, I mean loaded, trying to impress the hell out of her ski pro, who she was shtupping at the time. Well, she shtupped right into him. Slammed the both of them into a redwood.

“The father took to drinking. After that, Knuckle more or less brought up his brother and two sisters, single-handed. And himself. Took care of his Pa, never begrudged him a thing. Forgave his drunken rages. Brought up his little sister. He was the man of the house. If anyone ever said a word about his Pa, Knuckle would tell them, ‘You got no idea what that man’s been through.’

“Anyway, so one day Knuckle got wind of a move Pierce was going to make on a local coke crew. Snuck around their lab, some lockup in a sketchy part of town. Started a fire out in back of it.

“Half the crew busted out the back, guns ready. Knuckle backed a van in through the front. Held up the whole gang. Seven or eight of them there at the time.

“Pierce had no clue about Knuckle trying anything like that. When he heard about it, he was wild. I mean he was raging. ‘That dumb kid, what does he think he’s doing? Get himself killed like that. If he goes down, what’ll happen to his family?’

“Anyway, Knuckle made it out of there with the coke. The whole stash as far as anyone could tell. Torched the place on his way out. Certainly no one was ever heard of again buying rocks from the South End Crew.

“Knuckle got the stash squared away and everybody thought ‘end of story,’ right? But the South End second-in-command, Janos, real asshole. Razored face, attitude to match. Late one night, he got the jump on Knuckle.

“Way smaller and outclassed, Knuckle hardly stood a chance. Plus, Janos produced a blade about yea long.” Dino held his hands out, wider apart than the width of his hips. “Knuckle fell back, thought it was going to be lights out. Janos lunged at him. He caught the blade on his forearm. Helluva mess. Made a turn to get away, used his other elbow for guard. He flukes a crack on the back of Janos’ wrist, blade sliced Janos’ guts wide open.

“Janos survived, but solid food’s off. He wears bags and tubes and he can’t walk more than twenty or thirty feet. Cops knew it was self-defense but they wanted the stash. So, they went after Knuckle with an attempted homicide.

“So, here’s the thing. Pierce fitted up some DNA bullshit, got a slick mouthpiece to stand up in court, proved beyond reasonable doubt that it was him in the struggle. Took the rap for Knuckle. Did the large end of three to five federal time.

“When he got out, he came back like he’d been away on a cruise. Knuckle tried to thank him. He said, ‘Forget it. You seen what this did for my rep? How’s your old man?”

“So, why did you call him Knuckle?”

“Great kid, solid gold. But knuckle is all that keeps his ears apart.”

His smile was as sincere as his clothes were deceptive. She asked him, “What’s with the flashy duds? Are you going to a costume party?”

He just smiled back. Somehow, the fact that he didn’t offer an explanation made her trust him more. “Well, it looks good on you, anyway. A Stetson, and you’d pass for Wyatt Earp.”

Princess was glad that she had negotiated a deal with Pierce before she heard Dino’s tale. She tried to picture Agostini in that story. It made her see him in a new light. She felt a new respect for him, and a sting of something nervous that made her light and tense at the same time.

The thought of seeing him in New York made her chest swell. She wondered whether it really was compassion that drove him to take the rap for Knuckle. Of course, Dino could have made the whole thing up.

Agostini sat on the couch in the loggia with the lights of Manhattan at his feet. He worked the laptop, with a tablet and two phones on the table. The elevator bell dinged and he heard the doors glide open.
 

When he turned he saw her, wedged between Dino and Calhoun, the sight of her lifted him, even if she was wearing her scowl. Maybe because of it. He was getting used to the heat of her glower. Both of the men dwarfed her height, but his eyes were straight on her.

The flurry of elaborate shopping bags that Calhoun could barely handle struck Agostini as like an avalanche of chaos. Agostini did not laugh or even snigger at Calhoun’s burden, although it took an effort. He looked at Princess. She glowered back at him as he rose and stepped toward the elevator.

He had brought her pretty much by force into this situation, but she was so unfazed by it all. The sight of her made his heart sing. At the same time, when he looked at her, he had a feeling of things swirling out of control.

The worrying part was the way that, on some level, he welcomed it. He found himself thinking,
Maybe you’ve been too much in control and for too long.
Which was ridiculous, right? Being too much in control reminded him of the saying, “You can’t be too thin or too rich.”

Too thin he could see, in fact. Most of the women he’d been with were way too thin. It wasn’t healthy. The runway models, they didn’t even look healthy most of the time—they looked like they needed treatment. Look at Princess, now. She was a good, womanly weight.

But too rich? What could that even mean? Well, it wasn’t something that she was ever going to have to worry about. Not if his meeting with her father that morning was anything to go by. There wasn’t the smallest risk of that man becoming too rich.

If there ever was a way for her to inherit that club, it would either be a financial hole in the ground or an actual hole. In the ground. After the meeting, Agostini had thought he should make some inquiries, so he made a couple of calls. The answers hadn’t come back yet, but Agostini felt sure he knew what they would be. He hadn’t seen much cause for optimism.

A part of him thought,
She ought to know. She has a right to be told.

Calhoun struggled with Princess’ bags as Princess buzzed around him, all the way to her suite. Agostini had already taken to thinking of it as “The Dungeon.” He smiled as he drew Dino aside and out to the loggia. There were things they needed to get caught up on. “Nice duds, Dino. Destry rides again.”

“That girl.” Dino looked over his shoulder to make sure she was out of earshot. “Pretty rare kind of a fish you’ve landed there.”

“How did she seem on the way back?”

Dino stopped and his eyebrows shot up. He took Pierce by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “How did she
seem
?” Slowly, he shook his head. “Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe she’s landed you, old buddy. Never thought I’d see it happen.”

“It’s business, Dino. You know what I need her for.”

“You know about the Stockholm syndrome thing—the captive’s supposed to fall in love with the kidnapper.” He sat on the couch. “You may be doing this the wrong way around.”

Agostini said, “Get out of here, Dino,” as they sat around the table. “You want a bourbon? I got some eighteen-year-old Elijah Craig.” He called to Callaghan to fetch a bottle and glasses.

“So, Dino. Tell me about super-cooled relays.”

~ ~

The evening light was the best feature of the Park Place Pinnacle apartment. Daytime in New York was a mess of color and noise. As the light slipped down to a glow on the horizon and dark velvet covered the sky, Manhattan began to sparkle like a huge playground for adults.

Pierce kept the lights inside low and enjoyed the majestic penthouse view.

Calhoun, Callaghan, and Dino went out to hunt for Thai food, French wine and other delights. Often as not, they’d lure some exotic girls with promises of extravagant antics.

Pierce faced the loggia, enjoying the light. Princess came out to get a glass of water from the kitchen. He said, “Is the evening view okay from the dungeon?”

She turned her head and they were unexpectedly close. Eye to eye. He drank in the perfume of her. She’d made free with his credit cards this morning and scooped up bags of swag from scent counters as well as dress shops, but what his nose was sensing now was a perfume all of her own.

He remembered her in the Excelsior, how fresh she’d smelled from the shower. And something else. Now, here it was again. It made him feel lighter, just being near.

It was quiet. He looked in her eyes and she pulled her lips in between her teeth as she looked back.

His phone rang. On the display, he saw the number was Fat Tony’s. That could only mean one thing. He didn’t want to take the call.

She was in the kitchen with him and there seemed to be nobody else in the apartment. And she turned to find him unexpectedly close.

Princess felt a sensation that was strange and familiar, like the sound of a distant bell. He turned and she turned, and it was like they weren’t prepared.
 

She almost forgot not to hold him, not to kiss him. For a second she didn’t remember to hate him for leaving her hanging about what the hell had happened last night.

It was like a glimpse of how, at a different time, in another life, they could have been—what, friends maybe?—something. With a shiver, she remembered the sensation she had woken up to. Reaching across the fluffy white pillows and sheets. What, if anything, had happened? If anything.

His eyes on hers, hers on his, they made a slow dance. Hers questioning. She felt his stare, evasive but playful.

Of course, she was desperate to know, to get reassurance that nothing had happened at all. But that thought left her with a hollow pang, deep down inside. She pressed her lips together. How could she ask, what could she say?

Oh, yeah, last night, ha! Do you remember if we climbed each other’s bodies? Did you rip my clothes off me, by some chance, or did I rend yours asunder? Did I draw you into my warm, soft, secret place? Did we fuck, at all, to your recollection?

It was agonizing, maddening, that she still hadn’t thought of a way to find out. Even more maddening that he wasn’t going to be enough of a gentleman to drop a hint. Bastard.

Then his phone rang. More pressing business, no doubt.
No time to explore what’s in front of you, Mr. Agostini.
She wanted to throw her glass of water right at him. She might have, too, if he hadn’t turned to go and take his precious call somewhere private.

There wouldn’t be any point in launching a glass of water at his back. The satisfaction would have been to see it splash over his face, to see his astonished eyes blink and his mouth flap. To see him lose control and be taken by surprise, even if it were only for a moment.

When he returned a few minutes later, he said, “I saw your father this morning, Princess. Have you spoken to him?” Her head snapped around.

Instantly alarmed she said, “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, Princess. I’m not sure that he always has his own best interests at heart.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He doesn’t always do what’s best for himself.” He paused. “Or you.”

“Mr. Agostini, when we’re in need of the family counseling expertise of a gangster, I’ll be sure and let you know. I know that you’re trying hard to camouflage yourself as a human being, but you’ll never make it work.”

He shrugged.
 

Daddy hadn’t replied to any of her texts.

She went back to her suite. Agostini thought it was funny to call it “the dungeon.” In the lounge, she watched the multicolored lights of the traffic snake up and down Broadway and through the blaze of Times Square.

She called her daddy’s phone but it went straight to voicemail.

She rang Ethan.

“Hey, Princess! How’s the caged bird?”

“I’m good, thanks. Still kinda caged but, you know.”

“Okay, this sounds like your business voice.”

“Ethan, you know me too well. I need a DJ for a big event next week. Someone hot, at the top of their game. A name. Can you suggest anyone?”

“Sure, whoever you like. Long as the event’s in Miami.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Look, there must be someone staying late or coming back early. Let me make some calls.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. Now, really, how are you? What’s happening?”

After she hung up, Princess felt more relaxed and secure. Ethan was always a good sounding board, and the sound of his voice reassured her. At a couple of points in the conversation she felt like talking to him about Daddy, but then she steered away from it.

There was something there she wasn’t quite ready to face, or maybe she just wasn’t ready to admit it to someone else, not even to Ethan. Not until she had a better idea about it herself.
 

She punched Daddy’s number again. This time, he picked up. “Daddy, what’s happening?”

“Oh, Princess. Hi. Are you all right? It’s good to hear from you.” His voice was slow.

“Yes, I’m fine, Daddy. How are you? I was kinda worried when you didn’t call or send me a text.”

“Well, I’m just fine, honey. You know the club’s been closed while Mr. Agostini’s contractors are refitting it all, so I’ve just been, you know, hanging out.”