Rushed(99)

"I appreciate that, but I have someone who’s a specialist in things your normal gym goer doesn't use. He hooks up some of the Seahawks after surgery, stuff like that. I trust his supply, and I don't want to pay top dollar so that some mook can sell me salad oil instead of the real deal. Not saying your buddy is, but I don't know him, so I don't trust him."

"I can understand that, Tomasso. So who’s this guy?"

"Let me give you his number. You got your phone on you?" I asked. It was the point of the entire conversation, and one that had taken most of the day before setting up. I wouldn't be giving Petey an order for designer steroids—I’ve never used them, and never would. I didn't even know who the professional athletes in town got their designer steroids and test evasion kits from. Instead, the phone number I was giving him was for another Bertoli associate who thought I was giving Petey a loyalty test. If Petey did the job right, he'd be picking up vials of garlic extract pills and, ironically, salad oil.

He took his phone out of his right pocket, which I was sad to see was an iPhone. Handing it over without a second thought, he watched as I input the number and handed it back. "Give this number a call after three in the afternoon," I said. "Get the pickup and bring it back tomorrow, okay?"

"I can do that," Petey said. "And the money?"

"He'll get that from me later. He wants to talk to you because he wants to set up the pickup securely. He never transports product and cash at the same time. Think you can handle it?"

"I can," Petey said. I nodded and reached into my shirt pocket, taking out an envelope. "What's this?"

"A little thank you. This isn't for my father. This is a personal favor, and I appreciate those who do favors for me," I said, handing over the cash. It was a paltry sum to me. I didn't need it, but it helped add that extra layer of authenticity to the whole charade. "See what you can do."

He took the money, another act a true Bertoli man would never have done, and another sign he'd never progress past the point he was at now. If my father had asked Pietro or Julius or any of the trusted Bertoli men, they'd have refused it. "Thank you, Tomasso. I'll have your package by tomorrow night."

Petey left, and Luisa finished up her laps. I watched her get out of the pool, her recently bought training one-piece still looking sexy on her body, squeezing out her long, golden hair. My father's generation had Bo Derek to describe the perfect ten. I'll match Bo with Luisa Mendosa any day of the week. "So how did it go? From your face, not well."

"I'm going to have a hundred milligram bottle of salad oil and garlic extract tomorrow night," I said with a little laugh. "Want to make some spaghetti sauce with me?"

She smiled and took the lounge seat nearby, stretching out to enjoy the summer sun. "I'd love to. You know, our birthday is coming up soon. Any plans?"

"None so far. What about you?"

"I was thinking about celebrating with someone that I like," she said simply. "Maybe some chocolate cake and a trip into the mountains. Does that sound like a good idea?"

“Maybe," I said, laughing. "It depends if you can find someone who likes you to go with you."

That earned me a wiggle of her cute tongue, and my mind couldn't help but flash an image of what that tongue could do to me if it wanted. I swallowed a gulp of my fruit juice and sat back, refocusing. "First, though, we have a big problem."

"Either we are totally clueless," Luisa said, getting off the lounge and sitting next to me so we could talk softly, "or your friend is the man we’re looking for. Not a good thing either way."

"No, it isn't," I agreed, sighing. "So what do I do?"

"You must know if the men who will make up your organization are loyal or not," Luisa said softly.

I sighed and rubbed at my temples. "The consequences are grave. I've never done what we're discussing here."

Luisa nodded. "I know. Neither have I. But if you’re to become the man you want to become, you have to be willing to do it. A man, a real man, has to be willing to do it himself.”



After almost everyone had gone to bed, I sat in my father's study, pondering. Jake had been the one to sell Luisa out. But why? What could cause one of my childhood friends to turn against our family?

My laptop that I'd set up beeped, and I saw that I had a video call, one that I'd been looking forward to. Answering it, I was happy to see the blond hair and Teutonic features of my soon-to-be cousin, and really more brother-in-law, Daniel Neiman. "Dan, it's good to see you. How's Alaska?"

"Absolutely beautiful. In fact, Ade wants us to come back up here on vacation some time. Strictly summer, of course. There's no way in hell she'd want up here after October."

I laughed. "And how about you, oh genetic offshoot of the Vikings or wherever the hell it was your family came from?"

He laughed and shot me the finger, a casualness that we'd developed since he’d become engaged to Adriana. We'd always been rivals, and in a lot of ways, friends, but now, we were finding a new and better position, that of equals and family. "Sit on it, Tomasso. So how's the ankle?"

"Hurts like hell, but I've got some new techniques to help me deal with it," I said. "Luisa's been really helpful with it all."