Page 39 of Married with Mayhem

His eyes roam over me in a way that makes me wish I’d taken Monte’s warnings seriously. I know nothing about Lenny Lombardo but I can sense danger. And I haven’t missed the scowl on Big Pete’s face or the way the remaining players seem irked by his unexpected presence.

“What’s your last name, Little Miss Sabrina?” He rolls a chip between his ringed fingers. “I know an Italian beauty when I see one.”

“Barone,” I answer automatically and his smile vanishes.

Because I am the biggest fucking moron who ever touched a deck of cards.

I should have recognized the warning signs. Big Pete didn’t mention my last name for a reason. That same reason has Monte on the edge of his seat, poised to dive into action with one wrong move.

“That’s quite a name in these parts,” says Lenny Lombardo. His mild tone doesn’t erase the new spark of fury in his eyes. “I know who you are now. Albie Barone’s daughter, right?”

Big Pete clears his throat. “She’s also Vittorio Messina’s niece.”

Lenny takes a pointed look around. “I don’t see the Sicilian Snake here in the room. Do you?”

Bruce shoves his chair back from the table. “If we’re not playing then I’m gonna go take a shit.” He flashes a crooked grin at me. “Beg your pardon.”

“Shit happens,” I say, hoping that the sudden tension in the room disappears.

“Sit down,” Big Pete says. “We’re still playing.”

Bruce shrugs and does as he’s told.

But Lenny Lombardo slides an arm across the back of my chair. His stale breath is rank enough to gag over. “I lost a brother the day of the Valentine’s Massacre. He was in Greasy Vito’s with a face full of lasagna when the bomb went off. Never even got a chance to defend himself.”

Of course I know about the Valentine’s Massacre. My father, suspecting he’d been betrayed by rival mafia boss and close associate Richie Amato, decided to wipe out Amato’s entire kingdom. A bomb was planted at the restaurant where a big Amato family meeting was about to start. Anni’s husband Luca, the nephew of Richie Amato, was there that day. So were Monte and Nico. They were fortunate to be outside when the bomb went off and managed to find cover before a drive by shooter attempted to pick off the survivors.

Lenny Lombardo seems to be waiting for my response so I say the only appropriate thing that comes to mind. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

From the narrowing of his eyes, it’s clear he thinks I’m being a smart ass. I’m not. I’m very sensitive to the fact that my father was a sadistic monster.

“Afraid that’s not enough to pay the debt,” he says and my stomach flips over.

Big Pete bangs a fist down on the table. “Cut the bullshit, Lombardo. We all lost people that day. Hell, I lost a nephew. But this little girl didn’t have nothing to do with it so shut the fuck up and play fucking cards.”

Lenny’s grin is icy and his eyes don’t leave my face but he backs up a few inches. “Go ahead and deal, Frank. I’m ready.”

Frank waits for the nod from Big Pete before he loudly shuffles the cards. Once. Twice. Three times. The ripping sound made by the cards is ominously loud in the quiet room.

My heart thuds and I try to take a few deep breaths without looking obvious. I’m tempted to excuse myself from this next hand. This isn’t fun anymore. I’d much rather be upstairs in Monte’s apartment where it’s safe and there are no oily mobsters breathing on me.

Lenny’s chair remains too close to mine as he tinkers with his chips. “Don’t look so nervous, honey,” he says in my ear. “If you find yourself in a hole we can always make an arrangement in skin trade.”

Even before his words register, an unwanted hand lands on my thigh and swiftly slides under my skirt. Bile rises in my throat. The sounds in the room grow dim. I can’t explain why I’m frozen.

Nor can I explain how Lenny Lombardo suddenly disappears from his chair. At first, all I see are flailing limbs amid the shouts of men.

Before my eyes there’s pure chaos. Monte has Lenny Lombardo on the floor and is strangling the life out of him.

It’s an odd moment to be in awe of Monte’s speed and strength. He must have vaulted over here at warp speed to seize my tormentor by the neck.

“CASTELLI!” roars Big Pete.

Lenny’s eyes bulge and his face is turning purple. His arms and legs thrash uselessly.

As for Monte, he’s crouched on the floor with one thick forearm securely looped around Lenny’s neck and he’s having no trouble keeping it there for as long as he wants.

Now I understand why all weapons are collected at the door. Stick a pack of unruly mafia men in a basement and there’s a high likelihood that all hell will break loose.

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