Page 5 of The Holy Ghost
I put on my servicesmile and made sure not to hint at anything more. “Hi, Edmond. I’mdoing well. How are you?”
It wasn’t thathe wasn’t good-looking; onthecontrary, he was. He had sandy blonde hair and sweet, light blueeyes. He had that surfer vibe even though there wasn’t an ocean orlake anywhere near Cedar Creek. There wasn’t even a creek. He wasalso tall and athletically built. He wasn’t a gym rat with too manymuscles, but he also wasn’t a slob with a pouch over hisdick.
Overall, he was anice-looking man. He just didn’t do it for me.
No one did.
“I’m great,”he answered. “I’ll be doing better if ever you take me up on myoffer of dinner or drinks.”
I kept mysmile in place. “What can Iget you, Edmond?”
“Okay, okay,”he teased. “I can take a hint.”
Since he’sbeen hitting on me for weeks,my money says he can’t.
Chapter 3
Phoenix~
Itdidn’t matter how many times I’vebeen in this house, this study particularly, it always felt like Iwas sitting down with the sorry souls who were unfortunate enoughto cross paths with Giovanni Benetti. OranyBenetti, for that matter.
It was alsohow I knew when Luca was talking to us as a Mob Underboss and not the boy who we playedtag with as children. Whenever we were invited to meet him at theBenetti home, which was still occupied by his mother and father, weknew we were here for business.
Luca owned anapartment building on the outskirts of Morgan City. He occupied theentire top floor while me and Ciro shared the floor underneath, our apartments separated by ashallow hallway. No one had access to our floor or Luca’s save usthree. The remaining six floors were empty of residents except forthe first floor which consisted of the lobby and the smallerapartments that housed a few guards. The second floor housed a gym,swimming pool, sauna, etc. Any member of the Benetti family wasrequired to be healthy and in shape, so Luca made access to a gymeasier for his men. No one in the Benetti family got soft, not eventhe retirees.
No one.
The thirdfloor was a common area, where a lot of our impromptu meetings wereheld.The fourth and fifthfloors were empty and completely gutted of anything besidesstructure beams. The sixth floor was our arsenal floor. Only a fewpeople had access to the floor, and one of them was Vincent Costas,our weapons expert and manager. His sole purpose in life was toissue our weapons and firearms and make sure they could never betraced back to any of us. We had more firepower on that one floorthan most gun stores. Needless to say, the security in Luca’sbuilding rivaled that of The Pentagon.
Whenever Lucawanted to spend time with meand Ciro as friends, we were called up to his penthouse, or he’dstop by one of our apartments. Being called to the Benetti homemeant he wanted to talk business. It was no secret that GiovanniBenetti didn’t care for the fact that mine and Ciro’s allianceswere with Luca and not him, so he didn’t appreciate our presence orcalled on us often. He tolerated us because we were good at what wedid, and he didn’t want to cause a rift between him and his son. Noone voiced it out loud, but we all knew Luca was ten times morepowerful than his father these days.
When I haddriven through the gatesandcircled the arched driveway until I was parked in front of thehouse, well, mansion really, no one had stopped me, and no one hadgreeted me. When I had gotten out of the car and walked up thesteps to the house, even though there had been a dozen pairs ofeyes on me from the moment I had turned the corner on Park Street,no one had stopped me because they knew.
They knew who Iwas.
And they knewI belonged here.
I sat on thedeep brown leather couch, my elbows braced on my knees, atumbler of whiskey in betweenmy hands. Ciro was seated on one of the bar stools near the bar onthe right side of the study, while Luca’s ass was perched againsthis father’s desk. Well,technically,hisfather’s desk, but we all knew the truth.
“So, whatwarrants a visit to Daddy Benetti’s house,” Ciro asked in that flippant way that irritatedGiovanni Benetti and I couldn’t say I blamed the man.
Luca shruggeda shoulder. “Nothing business related,” he clarified immediately.“I just had some business to attend to and I knew you guys werenear.” While Luca’s apartmentbuilding was on the outskirts of Morgan City, the Benetti home wason the north side of the city where the wealthy dwelt and the homessat on acres of land, making neighbors a mile-wide non-issue. Andbecause the Benettis had enemies by the thousands, it was rare forLuca, Ciro, and me to be seen together. Even though our homes werein the same building, we each had three different residences thatwere spread throughout Morgan City.
“So, what’s up?” Iasked.
“Have eitherof you been to see Massimotoday?”
In the poorneighborhood of SilverHeights, Massimo had been every child’s favorite uncle. His wifehad died young, taking all his love with her. He never remarried,and since she died so suddenly, they never had kids. Massimo tookto adopting all the neighborhood children and making them his. Hebandaged wounds, bailed out troublemakers, fed the neglected, andeven harbored fugitives. Even his nails were often painted bylittle girls whose mothers were too busy turning tricks or passedout from drugs to play with them. Every one of us held a specialplace in our hearts for Massimo. Even those of us who no longerpossessed one.
And one weekago, he had landed in the hospital, stage-four cancer, and he hadn’t told anyone. He hadwanted the last few months of his life to be happy ones, not to bedrowned in sadness and depression.
“Yeah. I wasthere this morning,” Ciro answered. “Around two, maybe.” Lucadonated a shitload of money to Mercy Hospital for round-the-clockpremium care andvisitinghours for Massimo.
Not to mention, afuckton of guards switching shifts.
“I stopped a coupleof hours ago,” I added. “In time to have lunch together.”
Luca didn’tcomment. He just nodded, thoughts already organizing themselves inhis head. Luca was a thinker.And the motherfucker was always ten steps ahead of everyone else.The man’s mind never stopped.
