Page 64 of Any Means Necessary

My eyes stray from the device in my hand back to the man sitting next to me on the couch. He’s not working for once, there’s a book in his hands instead.

Just looking at him, the man makes me want to jump his bones. Callum’s so sexy, strong, and thick all over. I’d like to lick every substantial inch of him. I’m sure he’d enjoy every second of it too—before returning the favor. As hard as he is to read, there’s never a single moment he’s not charged up and ready for any opportunity to have me.

Callum is an enigma with more complexities than I thought possible in one person. His family is part of the New York Mafia, obviously very close to the head family. With his connections and involvement, it’s obvious that he was a member of the Cosa Nostra at some point too. But that doesn’t seem right.

To be fair, my knowledge of the mafia comes from true crime documentaries and romance novels—so it’s more than possible that I’m wrong—but leaving the mafia isn’t something you can do alive.

Live by the blood, die by the blood and all that jazz.

“It’s hard to read while you’re staring so hard,” Callum says, turning his head to meet my eyes. I don’t shy away from his gaze, staring at him in consideration. “Ask me, Dewdrop.”

“You’re a Made man.” I wait, and he lifts one shoulder in vague confirmation. “Tell me how you left the Outfit with your life.” His brows jump in surprise, and he pauses to look me over thoughtfully.

“Knowing that information is dangerous,” he informs me.

“Apparently so is knowing you,” I point out mildly with a shrug. “What have you been looking for? Levi, Viktor, the guy with the finger. You’re obviously hunting something.”

“Not what, who. I’ve been hired to track down an eight year old girl.” His answer knots my stomach. Eight? She’s so young, just a baby really. I open my mouth to ask a follow up question, but think better of it. It’s a rare occasion that Callum is open to questions. There’s a bigger mystery that I want answers to. I can finesse more answers about the girl later.

“How did you get into the Fixing business? And how long have you been doing it?”

“So many questions, Dewdrop. But I have some of my own. I’ll make you a deal—truth for a truth.” Of course he’s bargaining. It’s just like him to turn a conversation into a transaction. He can’t simply give something away without receiving something in return, that wouldn’t benefit him. Callum is an expert at spinning every situation for his gain. But this request seems fair, so I agree.

“Deal.”

He leans forward to place his book on the coffee table, before settling back on the couch. I shift in my place in the corner of the plush sectional, crossing my legs underneath me to get comfy.

“Even before Marcus and I were born, my father was part of the Cosa Nostra with Rafael Grassos’ father Don Salvator. He was a loyal soldier, working closely with Rafael doing Family business. At one of the street fairs, he met an Irish girl whose father was part of the Irish Mob. One thing lead to another and—despite all of the reasons not to—they fell in love.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” I can’t help myself, it’s a regular star-crossed lovers story. Callum’s lips twitch with a smile, and he continues.

“They wanted to get married, so they made a plan. The Italians and the Irish were at war over alcohol trades and territory on the docks, and they knew the only way they could be together was to get pregnant and force their families’ hands. They got married, and my brother was born three months later. The wedding was more than tense, a few members from both sides even came to blows.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s not uncommon,” he shrugs. “I grew up loyal to the Grassos family. I became a Made Man when I was fourteen. My initiation into the New York mafia was taking care of a supplier who was stealing from Don Rafael. That was the first man I ever killed.” My stomach drops at the mention of murder, so I change the subject.

“What about your mom’s family?” Callum flashes me a concerned glance that says he notices the shift in conversation, but he answers.

“The Irish and the Italians made attempts to get along, but turns out even being civil proved to be impossible.” He shakes his head.“I was twenty-one and my mother insisted we should get both sides of the family together for a Christmas party. My father thought it was a terrible idea, but trying to stop Tara Walsh from doing something is like trying to stop a hurricane—completely pointless. My father was right.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Exactly what you’d expect would happen when you put members of rival mafias together in the same room. Old feuds sparked and things turned explosive. A fight broke out, and one of my Mom’s brothers pulled out his gun.”

“Someone got shot.” My eyes widen, and Callum nods.

“The bullet went through my mom’s spine, almost killing her. Because those fuckers lost their temper, my mom will never walk again.” His hand runs over his beard as he thinks back. “That’s when I realized blindly acting on emotions was dangerous. There are much better ways to get what you want.

“I slowly started to separate myself from the Outfit. I knew leaving outright would be a death sentence, so my moves started out small. I made myself indispensable to the Grassos family as a ‘cleaner’ of sorts, taking care of messes. I kept all the dusty skeletons from falling out of their closet. That’s how I met the Manici family who run the Chicago Syndicate, along with politicians, officials, celebrities, and CEO’s. Eventually I was valuable enough to step away from the Family business relatively unscathed.”

“Relatively unscathed? I repeat.

“The Grassos felt possessive at first. They didn’t like when I started working with outsiders.” Callum explains. “The shift in power caused some growing pains, but ultimately Rafael learned his place.”

“So what about your brother? He’s still in the Outfit, right?”

“That’s a different question. It’s my turn.” I open my mouth to protest, but the look he gives me is a reminder that I promised, so I relent.

---