Page 3 of Dominic

Chapter Three

“Boss.”

The Rinaldi family had multiple business organizations — some completely legitimate, others not quite as much so — throughout New Orleans and much of the southeast.

Dominic, oldest of Rinaldi triplets by about ten minutes, was an underboss of La Cosa Nostra which on occasion required him to get his hands a little dirty. But often it required a lot of relatively boring business meetings like the one right now in his home office.

Boring, but important.

So when Titus, Dominic’s right hand man when it came to security, stuck his head in the office to interrupt, Dom didn’t hesitate to bring the meeting to an end. Titus would not interrupt unless it was something important.

Dominic shook hands with the two investment bankers and one of his other employees led them out. “What’s up, Titus?”

“Ian Tambour arrived back in town this morning.”

Any time members of other gangs or mob arrived in New Orleans, one of the Rinaldi brothers made sure they knew about it. Ian Tambour was relatively well-placed in a medium sized Russian gang in Chicago. A high-ranking henchman. What Dominic didn’t know was why Tambour was so far out of his normal stomping grounds — and here in Dominic’s city — twice in one week.

“Are the Russians making a move? Sending Tambour to scope things out?” The Russians dealt in areas La Cosa Nostra refused, particularly human trafficking, but that didn’t mean the other group wasn’t trying to move in on Rinaldi territory.

Titus shook his bald head. “No. Rumor is, this is a personal trip for Tambour. He got called back to Chicago for business two days ago but has made his way back down here. Word on the street is that this is a revenge hit for him.”

“Okay.” Dominic didn’t like it, never liked it when others came in and potentially stirred up a mess for his family by leaving dead bodies around. Local police would only turn their heads for so much. Dominic didn’t like to spend the good will he’d bought in the local PD on strangers.

But still, none of this was important enough that it couldn’t have waited until Dominic was out of his meeting. Titus had something else. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Ian Tambour followed his prey here. A woman. She was given up by her family, sacrificed to Tambour in recompense for stealing from him and getting caught.”

“What’s that got to do with us?”

Titus shook his head. “I don’t have the woman’s name. But the family’s name is Clemens.”

Dominic felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “Are you sure?”

Titus nodded, one of the only people in the world who understood the full ramifications of that statement. Not even Dominic’s brothers knew the truth.

Why would Cassandra have come to New Orleans? Dominic had only just found out her real last name in the last year. Then discovered her family, a traveling group of thieves and con artists, worked mainly in the northeast section of the country.

She’d definitely been tight with her family seven years ago, when she’d left Dominic — after stealing something very precious — to return to her life with them. Why would they have sacrificed her now?

And out of all the possibilities in the country, why the hell would she have run to New Orleans to try to get away from Ian Tambour, knowing Dominic would hunt her down once she was here? He would’ve been hunting her down soon anyway no matter where she resided. But her thinking she could come to his city after what she’d done to him, the way she’d conned him, was just a slap in the face.

She already owed him a huge debt. And he planned to make sure she repaid in full with that delectable body of hers. But not if Tambour had anything to say about it.

“Tambour’s going to kill her,” Dominic said, eyes narrowing. The Russians in Chicago weren’t known for their leniency.

Titus nodded again. “Yeah, boss. If he hasn’t already. I had our contacts on it before mentioning it to you. Just found out he’s holding her in a warehouse out past Michoud Blvd. That’s why I stopped your meeting.”

Dominic clasped the older man on the shoulder. “Thank you, Titus. Grab two of your best and let’s go. And make we have the contact numbers for the Russian’s — whoever is Ian Tambour’s boss — on speed dial. I doubt they’re going to go to war with La Cosa Nostra over Tambour’s personal vendetta.”

“Got it, boss.”

Dominic turned to grab his Glock 9mm from his desk drawer. “It’s time to rescue our little runaway from certain death. So I can make her life a living hell.”

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