Nico (Ruin & Revenge #1)(87)
If he pulled the trigger, Daisy would be safe. He might be able to get Ginger clean. And there would be no threat to Nico. A criminal would have been brought to justice. But Ben would have crossed a line he thought he would never cross. He would become a made man.
“Nico wants this?” Although no stranger to violence, with a well-earned reputation for vicious and ruthless punishment of those who crossed him, Nico did not kill indiscriminately. Nor did he kill out of fear. Even if Rev was threat, this hit just wasn’t Nico’s style.
“Forget about it.” Frankie brushed him off. “Nico’s protection is the responsibility of this crew. You report to me and I’m telling you this isn’t a fucking option. If you didn’t want to be made, what the fuck have you been doing with the Toscanis for the last ten years, or with us for the last three?”
So Nico hadn’t authorized the hit. Maybe that was his way out. Yes, he reported to Frankie because Frankie had recruited him, but he also worked with Nico directly. And if there was something he knew the boss wouldn’t be happy about …
“You in, or are you dead?”
“Okay. Okay. Yeah, I’m in.” He still had time to figure a way out—if he wanted a way out.
Mikey Muscles led them into the bar, a typical dingy criminal hangout full of the worst elements of the Las Vegas underworld. The air was rank with the stench of hops, and unwashed bodies, and the screaming vocals of a death-metal song over the speakers drowned out all but the loudest of sounds. The bartender looked up from the worn, chipped bar, and nodded to the back.
“I see him,” Mikey Muscles mumbled when they reached the back room. “He’s at a table against the wall, facing the door. “He’s gonna see us in 3 … 2 … 1.” He stepped to the side and Ben lifted his gun.
Rev jumped up, his eyes darting from Ben to Frankie and Mikey Muscles, and back to Ben. He frowned, and then the bastard smiled. “So are you or are you not a cop?”
Ben thought about how proud he’d been to take his oath when he joined the police. How he was going to make the world a better place, just like his dad. He thought about walking the beat and seeing the same faces doing the same things day after day. He thought about the thrill of getting his undercover assignment, his enthusiasm for bringing Santo down, and his growing disillusionment when the department wouldn’t act on the information he had given them.
He thought about ten years of anxiety-ridden days and sweat-soaked nights, and the day he’d joined Nico’s crew and discovered a man who shared his moral compass, but who stood on the other side of the line. He thought about Ginger on the couch and Daisy in his arms, and he understood now what Kat had tried to say. After ten years in the mob, he couldn’t see the lines.
He was walking in shades of gray.
TWENTY-FOUR
Thump. Thump. Thump. Mia knocked on the door of the Toscani clubhouse. She could see lights inside through the frosted-glass windows, hear the bass pounding through the walls, and see the shadows of mobsters enjoying their evening relaxation. They knew she was here. She knew they were there. But they weren’t opening the damn door.
She contemplated trying to crawl in the bathroom window she’d escaped through four weeks ago, but she didn’t want catching a mobster with his pants down, and getting in was going to be a hell of a lot harder than getting out.
“I don’t think they want to see us,” whispered Jules.
“They’re just worried we’re cops. Usually, the only women who would dare come to the clubhouse are hookers.”
Jules gave her a wicked grin and yelled through the door. “Hey, in there. We’re having a special tonight. Twenty for oral with a condom. Thirty without. One hundred for an hour and that’s a deal because minimum at a brothel is one-fifty. And we call you Daddy for free.”
“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe you just did that.” Mia covered her mouth with her hand. “Prostitution is illegal in Nevada unless you’re in a licensed brothel.”
“Hacking into your husband’s phone to find out his location is also illegal, but I didn’t see you even batting an eye about doing that,” Jules shot back. “How’s that black hat feeling today?”
Mia dropped her hand. “It wasn’t really a black hat hack. I was doing it for a good reason, so I’d say it’s in the gray.”
“It’s illegal. Therefore, it’s black. Your Mafioso husband has turned you to the dark side.”
A deadbolt thudded and the heavy steel door opened a crack. “How much for an hour ungloved?”
Jules grabbed the door and pulled it open. “How about you go tell Nico you just asked his wife for an hour of ungloved sex?”
“Shit.” A short dude wearing a wife beater vest and sporting a bad toupee stepped to the side, and Mia walked into the clubhouse with Jules at her heels. Almost instantly, all activity stopped, chatter died down, and the music faded away. Mafiosos of all shapes and sizes turned to look at them, and Mia shivered with the memory of the last time she was here.
“I’m looking for Nico.”
Silence.
Jules nudged her in the back.
“I’m Mia.”
“His wife,” Jules added. “Mrs. Nico Toscani. And if you don’t believe me, check out her ring.”
Moments later Mia was surrounded by respectful well-wishers showering her with congratulations and kissing her cheeks. The man who had propositioned them at the door slithered away, and another mobster led them to the back of the clubhouse.