23. Nic

23

NIC

F uck. Fuck. Fuck.

Since the cop started talking to me, I’ve worked to assess what this stop is about and whether this cop works for my father. My father’s reach extends far outside of Manhattan, including cops and judges. It seems drastic to set up a checkpoint to look for me, but the man arranged to have me killed, so I guess he’s willing to do anything.

I push all that away and give the cop a sheepish smile, ignoring his instructions to get out of the car. “Right… ah… well, I forgot to mention why my future in-laws don’t think much of me. My car broke down because I failed to get the oil changed. Luckily, Jimmy, that’s her brother, was able to lend us his car so I could get back to New York. My gal here has a big day starting her new job.” If bullshitting were a sport, I’d be an Olympic medalist.

The cop looks over to Bella, who so far has been holding her own. “I owe my brother big time.” She turns to me. “I’m not happy about that. He’ll lord it over me.”

I wince and look at the cop as if I want sympathy. “Looks like I owe her big time too.”

“Jimmy?” the cop asks, looking at the registration.

“It’s James Reader,” Bella says. “We all call him Jimmy.” She’s so on the ball, I have to wonder if she’s been more involved in her father’s business than she’s let on. I just have to hope the cop doesn’t ask for her ID and learns she’s not related to James and in fact is a missing person.

I think about my weapon under the seat. I don’t want to use it, assuming I could get to it before the cop drew his. I've never killed a cop. It’s worse than killing a civilian. The heat that comes down over a dead officer isn't worth it.

“Could you exit the veh—” The cop’s radio beeps and a voice comes through. Something about a sighting.

He hands back my license and papers. “Go ahead.”

I try to hide my relief. “Thank you. What’s all this about, anyway?”

“Escapee. Move on.” He leaves us and heads to his car. I decide that whoever they’re looking for has been spotted somewhere else.

I ease the car forward, forcing myself not to speed away.

“That was close,” Bella says with relief.

“Only if they were looking for us, which they weren’t.” But I’m already anticipating that registration will come back to bite us sooner than later. “We need to–”

“I know. We need another car.”

"You okay?" I glance at her.

“Yes. Is this what your life is like all the time?”

I hear fatigue in her tone. “Not all the time. Surely, your father has had some interesting encounters.”

She shrugs. “He’s always ranting and raving about something, but I’ve never seen him in situations like this.”

“You did great. You’re a natural.” I wonder if that will offend her.

“Drama class in eighth grade, I guess.”

I guide the car through unfamiliar streets, avoiding my usual routes through New Jersey. The close call with the cops has my nerves on edge.

First things first. I need a new car. We pick one up near Patterson, then I pull over at a park and take out one of the new burner phones. “I need to call Max. Do you need to use the restroom?”

She exits the car and heads to the public restroom. I’m not sure if she really needs it or recognizes that I want to speak to him in private.

“Max,” I say when he picks up.

“You got something?” Max’s response tells me he’s not alone and doesn’t want to give away who he’s talking to.

“Do you think Russo is pissed at Gino enough to help me?” I ask.

“Hard to say. Where’s the situation?”

“We’re in Jersey. Outside Patterson. Gino’s got ears everywhere.”

“Absolutely. Give me an update at seven.”

I check my watch. It’s a few minutes after two. “Will do.” I hang up the phone and debate whether I can call in a favor. Mickey Russo was loyal to my grandfather, but he and my father had a falling out. The only reason he isn’t dead is that Mickey is also close to Don Dominelli, who is as powerful as my father.

Mickey owes me a few favors including giving him a heads up the one time my father did try to take him out. Mickey's been out of active business for years, so he’s likely to be off my father’s radar. Mickey can’t hurt him or be of use to him.

But that doesn’t mean I can fully trust him. He might not be active, but he’s still family with people who are. And I can’t be sure my father’s web of informants doesn’t keep an eye on him or those in the family.

When Bella is back in the car, I start to drive, edging closer to New York. I wish I could return to my penthouse. I’d love to sleep in my own bed. Bella would look fantastic in it.

I give my head a shake. I can’t be thinking carnal thoughts at this time.

“Everything alright?” she asks.

“Nothing’s worse.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means right now, all is fine, but we have to stay on guard.” I take side streets through industrial areas, watching for tails. Soon, the familiar skyline of Manhattan looms ahead, but I head south toward Newark.

All this time, I’m vacillating on calling Mickey. If I don’t call, I’m fumbling around blind. I need eyes and ears.

I pick up the phone and call.

“Wrong number,” Mickey says when he picks up.

“I’m calling in a debt.”

“I don’t owe shit.”

“I saved your life once.”

He pauses. “Nicky?”

“That’s right.” He’s the only one who’s ever called me Nicky. At least after I became an adult.

He lets off a whistle. “Rumor is you got whacked by the Outfit.”

“What’s that saying? The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated?”

“Mark Twain. Fucking genius. I have odds twenty to one that your father is behind your hit.”

I shake my head. Is nothing safe from a wager? “Really? A long shot?”

“I didn’t think so, but others do. So, do I win?”

“You do, but not yet. I need a place. A place that my father doesn’t know of and that his eyes and ears won’t see me at.”

The line is quiet, and I imagine the old man scratching his chin as he thinks. “Yeah, I might have a place. It’s out in Orange. Where are you?”

“Coming south from Patterson.”

He rattles off an address. “I don’t like going against your father now that he’s forgotten I exist.”

I’m about to remind him that he owes me, but he continues, “I liked your grandfather. He was a good one, not a fucking narcissist like your father. I know he’d like you, kid.”

Whatever reason has him helping me, I’ll take it. “ Grazie .”

“ Prego .”

When I get off the phone, I rub my temple where a headache is starting to form.

“You’ve got another friend,” Bella says.

“Acquaintance, more like. He hates my father.”

“Ah, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Something like that.”

Fifteen minutes later, I roll up on an old bungalow-style home in a quiet residential area. I pull up to the detached garage as Mickey told me to do. It opens, and I pull in.

When I step out, one of Mickey’s bodyguards pats me down.

“My gun is under the seat, but I’ll need it,” I tell him.

He glances at Mickey.

Mickey shrugs. “We’ll give it to him when we leave.”

“What about the girl?” the bodyguard asks.

“Touch her and I break your face,” I say automatically.

The bodyguard growls and steps closer to me.

Mickey cackles. “It’s okay, Carlo. I think Nicky here will help with the family’s Nardone problem.”

Carlo shrugs and steps back.

Mickey eyes Bella exiting the car. He whistles. “Taking after your father, I see.”

I bite down the urge to punch him for that. “Saving her from him, more like it.”

“Welcome, Bella.”

Bella frowns. “How’d you know?—”

“He doesn’t. He’s saying welcome, beautiful,” I say, wondering if her family never used Italian. While the language is used less and less through the generations, some sayings always remain.

Mickey shakes his head. “She’s the Outfit’s girl.”

“He arranged with my father for her. I’m supposed to be the delivery boy, but well, I ran into some trouble.”

Mickey pats me on the back. “Your father is a fucking asshole.”

“I know.”

“Come in. I’ll show you around. No one should bother you here. The home is mine but hidden. You know how it goes.”

“I do.” As a Mafia lawyer, I often found legal ways for our members to hide assets. The important part is if my father thinks I might come to Mickey, odds are he wouldn’t find this house if it’s not under any of Mickey’s names or business names.

The house isn’t much different from the resort motel we stayed in. Clean. Functional. But outdated and tired. It would be perfect for lying low for however long it takes.

As it turns out, that checkpoint spooked me more than I thought, and for the next week, we don’t leave the house, except for the few times I go to pick up food and other provisions. I wanted to meet with Max, but he felt my father had close eyes on him, so we didn’t risk it. I thought coming home would give me the support I needed, but as it turns out, I’m still on my own.

Max did relay that my crew was grumbling about what my father might have done and would be loyal to me. The trick would be connecting with them without my father getting wind of it.

Through careful probing, I learn my father is making aggressive moves against Rinella. He's spreading word that Rinella had me killed and took Bella, trying to turn The Outfit against him, just as Max had explained the other day. What is new is my father’s willingness to offer support to Rinella's rivals within The Outfit, promising backing if they move against him.

It's a smart play. If The Outfit takes out Rinella, my father gets a foothold in Chicago without directly moving against them. Plus, he gets revenge for my "death" without getting his hands dirty.

I heard he reached out to the D’Amatos. I wonder what Bella would think of her sister’s new family conspiring against her father. However, word was the D’Amatos weren’t interested and in fact were suspicious of my father. Well, of course they would be. Ava’s sister disappeared with me.

What I’m hoping is that my father’s plan can create an opportunity for me. Rinella will be desperate for allies. If I approach him with proof my father tried to have me killed and is now setting him up, Rinella might help me get close enough to take out my father. I’d just have to do it without agreeing to give Bella back, something I’m not sure he’d go along with. In the end, he’s still a fucking bastard. It’s possible Rinella would hand me over to my father to save his own skin.

I keep these thoughts to myself, not wanting to burden Bella with the ugly details. She already looks worried enough when she catches me brooding over my plans. Sometimes, I catch her watching me with a mix of concern and something else… something that makes my chest ache.

I watch her now as she goes through the bookshelf, every now and then pulling out a book. In the last week, she’s read three or four. When she’s not reading, she’s tidying or cooking. I wonder if she’s bored yet.

"Come here," I say.

She sets down the books and walks over to where I’m sitting at the table, settling naturally into my lap. The ease of our physical connection still surprises me. I've never been one for casual touches, yet with her it feels right. I’ve given in to it even as I know it's problematic. But we’re in a moment in time that will end. What can it hurt to enjoy her company while we’re stuck together?

"Tell me what you're thinking about," she says, playing with my collar.

"Right now? How you manage to make this tired old place feel comfortable."

She laughs. "It's not so bad. Though I wouldn't mind real coffee instead of that instant stuff."

I run my hand along her spine, savoring her warmth. "Maybe I can tinker with the coffee maker and find out why it doesn’t work.”

“You might end up burning the house down, and then what would we do?”

I laugh, enjoying her banter. “That would be a problem.” I feel bad that she’s having to endure all this. It’s not my fault. The blame goes to her father and mine. But I want to fix it. “When this is all said and done, you can go to Italy and have the finest coffee in the world.”

"Promise?" Her gray eyes meet mine, and for a moment I forget about burner phones and escape routes. I forget about my father and all the darkness waiting outside our door.

"Promise."

She kisses me softly, and I want to drown in her and never come up for air. These quiet moments feel like another life where we're just a man and a woman sharing space, sharing touches, sharing peace.

“Can I go to France too?” she asks.

“Wherever you want.”

“They have good schools there, right? I always thought I might like to go to college.”

My chest tightens at the idea of a life without her in it. I force a smile. “There are many good schools throughout Europe. What would you study?”

She blinks and laughs. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. I guess I’d take a class in everything and find out what I like.”

I nod, fighting the urge to pull her close and never let go. When did this happen? When did this fierce, brilliant woman become so essential to my existence?

"You're quiet," she says, studying my face.

"Just thinking how capable you are."

She deserves every opportunity, every chance to spread her wings. But the selfish part of me wants to clip those wings, keep her here with me.

"I could start with community college first," she muses. "I bet there’s one in Manhattan.”

My heart leaps at 'Manhattan' before I catch myself. I have no right to hope she'll stay close. No right to want her to limit herself for me. I'm too old, too damaged, too entrenched in this dark world.

"You should aim higher.” Each word is a betrayal of my true feelings.

She smiles, but the light in her eyes dims a little bit.

I brush a strand of hair from her face, remembering how she stood up to me at the cabin, how she saved my life when she could have run. That's real loyalty. I owe her my loyalty as well, and that means helping her live her life free, away from the ugliness of organized crime.

“You should see the world, Bella. Get away from all this madness.”

"Maybe I want to stay close," she whispers, and I want to grab onto her words like a lifeline. But I can’t. Not if she’s going to have a chance at a full life.

"You deserve better than this life," I tell her. "Better than me."