I stifled a sigh when a knock sounded at my door. I had to leave for work in a few minutes and had no time for a talk to my father. Since Mom had moved in with us two days ago, our already strained relationship had taken a nosedive toward worse. He only wanted money from me anyway. That was the only reason why he even let me and Mom stay with him. But I didn’t have much money. I’d given almost all of my savings to my mother, so she could pay part of her debt to the Camorra. And it still wasn’t enough, which was why she was out on the street selling her body again.
I opened the door.
Dad was deathly pale, sweat coating his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I had a sinking feeling that I knew. There was always the same thing wrong.
“I’m in trouble, Leona.”
“You always are,” I said, reaching for my backpack to head out but Dad gripped my arm. “Leona, please. They will kill me. He will.”
I froze. “Why would they do that?”
“I’m owing too much. I can’t pay them. I’m a dead man if you don’t help me, Leo, please.”
Leo. That was a name he’d called me when I’d been a little girl, when he’d still occasionally been a decent father.
He’s not your business. That’s what Fabiano had told me, and after the last days of my father treating my mother like shit, I wanted to agree with him.
“How much do you owe them?”
“I don’t know. Two thousand perhaps. I don’t know! I lost track.”
How could he lose track of his debts? I closed my eyes for a moment. The remaining money was supposed to get me into college, to buy me a future, and again my father ruined it. I turned and took the money from its hiding place beneath the carpet, and held it out to my father. He didn’t take it. “I can’t bring them the money. They will kill me before I can hand it over. Leona, you must go for me.”
I could go to Fabiano, and give him the money. Of course he wouldn’t take it. He would gladly kill my father. He had done enough for me already. “Where do I need to bring it?”
“It’s called the Sugartrap. That’s where Falcone and his Enforcers hang around most days.” He gave me the address, then clutched my hand. “You have to hurry. Perhaps they already sent someone out for me.”
I grabbed my backpack and headed for the place Father had told me. I’d not only give up my hard-earned money for him. I’d also be late for work because of it. If Roger threw me out, I’d be doomed. I doubted I’d get a job on the Strip, or anywhere else, soon. I knew we’d need every cent I earned with my mother and father both in Vegas.
When the red and yellow neon sign of the Sugartrap caught my eye, I halted. The word was wedged between two opened, high-heeled legs. The windows were tinted black so you couldn’t look inside. I knew what kind of place this was, and it wasn’t a place I’d ever wanted to set foot in.
There was a ginormous, black man guarding the door. I approached him slowly. He didn’t budge.
“I’m here to see Remo Falcone.” Even as I said it, I realized how foolish I must have sounded. Remo Falcone was the Capo of the Camorra. He owned everything that mattered if Fabiano was to be believed. Why on earth would he waste his time with me?
The bouncer seemed to think the same because he snorted. “Mr. Falcone doesn’t cast the girls who work here. Go away.”
Cast the girls? “I’m not here to work in this place,” I said indignantly. “I’m here because I have money for him.”
The man tilted his head to the side but still didn’t let me pass. I tried to catch a glimpse at his watch to see how late I was for work. I pulled the money from my backpack and held it out to the Bouncer. He reached for it but I snatched it back. I didn’t trust him to hand it over to Falcone. “Go away,” he muttered.
“Let her through,” came a cold drawl from behind me. I whirled around to look up at a tall man. Nino Falcone. He nodded for me to step into the gloomy light of the Sugartrap. I did, because, really, I doubted anyone could refuse those cold eyes.
“Straight ahead,” he said. I kept walking, even though having him behind me gave me the creeps.
The corridor opened up to a bar area of red velvet and black lacquer. There were poles and booths with velvet curtains, and several doors that branched off the main room.
“Go ahead. First door on the right.”
I peered at him over my shoulder. He walked two steps behind me, watching me with those cold, unreadable eyes. I showed him the money. “Perhaps you can give your brother the money. It’s from my father. His name is Greg Hall.”
“I know who he is,” Nino Falcone said, absolutely no hint of emotion in his eyes. “Go ahead.”
I shivered and moved toward the door he’d indicated. I pushed down the handle and stepped through, into another long corridor with black walls and a red carpet. I kept walking to the end where another door waited. The hairs on my neck rose at the proximity of Nino Falcone, and at his quiet scrutiny. “Let me,” he drawled and stepped past me to open that door. He entered a long room without windows. There was a desk on the left side that looked untouched. To the left there was a boxing sack and couches. Remo sat on one of them, laptop on his lap. His eyes moved up when his brother entered. Then they slid over to me and I knew it had been a huge mistake to come here. The man, Soto, that had attacked my father stood off to the side as if he was reporting to his Capo.
Remo Falcone put aside his laptop and rose from the sofa. Where Fabiano was grace and control, this man was unhinged power and barely contained aggression. My fingers crumpled the money.
“She’s here to pay her father’s debts,” Nino said. I wasn’t sure he was talking about money.
“Is she now?” Remo asked curiously. He came around the sofa, closer to me and I wished he didn’t. A smile curled his lips and I took a step back, but Nino’s arm stopped my movement. He wasn’t looking at me, only at his brother. Some silent understanding passed between them I wasn’t in on. “I’ll let you handle it then. I’ll be back later,” Nino said, and just left, closing the door in my face.
I stood there, small and shaking, trying to look determined and strong. My eyes flitted over to where Remo was propped up with his hip against the backrest of the sofa. Soto, behind him, had something eager and gleeful in his expression.
I held up the money uncertainly. “I have the money my father owes you.”
Remo regarded me with unsettling intensity. “I doubt that.”
I frowned. He couldn’t possibly see how much money I held in my hands. It was a bundle of ten and twenty dollar notes. “It’s one thousand dollars.”
“One thousand?” Remo asked with a laugh. “How much do you think he owes us?”
I shivered. My eyes darted to Soto again, then back to Remo.
I licked my lips nervously. “He said a couple of thousand.”
Remo shook his head once and pushed away from the sofa. He came closer and I had to fight the urge to run. There was no way I could have outrun him anyway. He scared me more than anything ever had, and I had been stupid enough to face him because my father couldn’t get a grip on his addiction.
“Ten thousand, and that’s without interest. In total he owes us close to fourteen thousand.”
My stomach plummeted. “Four thousand in interest?” I gasped. “That’s usury!”
“We’re the mob, Leona,” Remo Falcone said, amused. He knew my name? Had Fabiano talked to him about me? Because of my mother.
“Every day he doesn’t pay us, another five hundred of interest comes on top.”
I couldn’t believe it. Father must have realized he owed much more than just a couple of thousands. Had he set me up? “But…but I don’t have that much, and there’s no way I can earn enough money unless you don’t take interest anymore.”
Remo shook his head. “This isn’t a negotiation, girl. Your father owes us money, and perhaps you forgot, but your mother does too. Your father was supposed to pay until yesterday at midnight. He didn’t.” By now, Remo was only two steps away from me, and it set my body into flight mode.
“I have this.” I held up my wrist with the bracelet Fabiano had given me for Christmas. Guilt filled me. How could I even consider giving his present away?
Something in Remo’s eyes shifted and he bridged the remaining distance between us. I bumped against the door, trying to evade him, but he gripped my arm tightly and regarded the bracelet. A fire simmered in his eyes when he looked up at me. “That would settle your father’s debt. An expensive piece of jewelry for someone like you.”
It would settle fourteen thousand dollars? I stared down at the bracelet. Remo released my wrist. His lips twisted cruelly. “Sadly, it’s too late. Your father will pay his debt in blood.”
“Please,” I begged. “He won’t ever owe you money again.”
“Are you willing to swear on it?” Remo hissed.
I knew how much an oath meant to the Camorra. And I knew it would have been a lie. I averted my eyes from Remo’s cruel ones. “Please. There has to be something I can do. Don’t kill him.”
Remo tilted his head. My begging did nothing to him. “It’s not me who will kill him. It’s Fabiano, but you must know that, don’t you?” His voice was low and threatening.
“Isn’t there something I can do?” I whispered desperately, and something flickered in his dark eyes. God, and I wanted to swallow every syllable I’d uttered. What had I said? My father had sent me here to pay for his debts and I was risking my life for him.
For a long time Remo didn’t say anything.
I gave a jerky nod. “Okay. I’ll just go.”
Remo put a hand on the door. I sucked in a breath and backed away from him. I fumbled for my mobile. Perhaps Fabiano could help me. I didn’t get far. Remo took the mobile from my hand and glanced down at it.
“Just let me leave.”
He shut off my mobile with a thunderous expression. “It’s too late for that, I fear.” He nodded toward Soto, who came our way at once. “I think we need to set an example.”
Soto gripped my arm. The excited gleam in his expression made terror soar through my veins. “The basement?” he asked with barely hidden eagerness.
Bile traveled up my throat. Remo gave a nod, his eyes slipping down to my bracelet again as if he’d seen it before. “And Soto, you’ll wait until I give you an order before you begin. If you lay a finger on her before, I’ll cut it off.”
Soto pulled me down a flight of stairs and into a small room with only a mattress in the corner and a chair in the other.
“I can’t wait to start, bitch. Fabiano will be fucking furious,” Soto muttered, then let go of me. I stumbled back against the wall. There was no escaping him.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed with him undressing me with his eyes, when a low buzz sound made me jump. Soto pulled out his mobile, then he looked back at me, with a leer. “Time to play.”
