Page 1 of Armando

CHAPTERONE

ARMANDO

“Good morning, what can I get for… Oh.”

I give the barista my most charming smile, but the hesitancy in her eyes doesn’t dim. I get it. I’m six foot eight, nearly three hundred pounds of pure muscle, with ink crawling up and down my arms. I stand out anywhere, but especially in this dainty little coffee shop.

“Morning, miss,” I greet her, hoping to put the little lady at ease. I might make a living off of my intimidating size and looks, but I don’t enjoy frightening civilians unnecessarily. Strange, I know, considering I’m an enforcer for the most powerful mafia family in New York, the Di Salvos.

“Uh, right. Yes. What can I get for you?” the woman asks, avoiding eye contact.

“Double shot, please. I need it this morning.”

She types out my order and takes my money, thanking me when I hand her a twenty and tell her to keep the change. I walk to the other side of the counter to wait for my drink, taking a spot in the back so as not to block the way of the other patrons. They all part for me like the Red Sea, shuffling out of the way to clear a path.

I’ve gotten used to people staring at me or making a pointnotto stare at me. I hit the six-foot mark by the time I was fourteen, which helped me out in a lot of ways since I looked much older than I was. Specifically, when I was looking for an escape from the torture that is the American foster care system.

I hit the streets shortly after my fourteenth birthday with nothing except for my best friend and what I could fit in a backpack. Leif and I looked after each other, and even though our lives took drastically different turns, he’s still my oldest and closest friend.

As soon as Leif turned eighteen, he enlisted in the military. They gave him food, shelter, training, and a purpose—all things we lacked in our lives. I went in a different direction. When I turned eighteen, I also had an opportunity to join something bigger than myself—the Mafia.

Leif still doesn’t understand, but I don’t expect him to. Especially now that the bastard has found himself a woman after all these years. Never thought I’d see the day, but Maribell is just what he needs. After he was wounded overseas, there were some dark times. I was there during the surgeries and most of the healing process, but his wounds were far more than skin deep.

I couldn’t help my friend out of his depression or even begin to understand what living with PTSD must have been like for him. But Maribell waltzed into his life and eased his pain.

I’m happy for him. Truly, no one deserves a happily ever after more than Leif, especially after everything he’s been through. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous. Not of Maribell, specifically, but just having someone. Caring for someone. Being the most important person in someone’s life and doing whatever it takes to keep them safe and happy.

“Double shot for Armando,” the lady calls from behind the counter, startling me from my thoughts.

Jesus, I’m losing it. When did I become a sappy fool? Maybe something is in the water. Not only did Leif settle down with a woman, but the big Boss himself, Romeo, found the love of his life. And even more shockingly, the cold, aloof underboss of the family, Dante, also fell ass over heels for a woman last week.

It’s a lot of change all at once. Staring down the barrel of my fortieth birthday has me feeling some kind of way about the life I’ve built. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my rank within the Di Salvos, and I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today. I went from sleeping in a cardboard box under an overpass in the South Bronx to living in a three-story, five-bedroom, three-bathroom house with a gym and home theater in the basement. By all accounts, I’ve made it to the top.

There’s just one thing missing—someone to share it with.

Clearing my throat, I rub the heel of my hand over my chest to ease the tension there. I step up to the counter and grab my drink, downing it in ten seconds. The liquid burns my throat, both from the temperature and the acidity. That’s how I know it’s good espresso.

I set the tiny mug in the dirty dish tub before making my way to the exit. It’s just past ten in the morning, and that was just the pick-me-up I needed to get me through the rest of the day. This afternoon, I have meetings with the Boss and Dante, his number two, which isn’t my favorite activity. I’d rather be out on a mission, using my strength for the good of the family.

Still, Romeo is constantly reminding me that this job is more than just throwing our weight around. It’s about strategy too. That’s always been more of Dante’s wheelhouse than mine, but I’m trying to be more open. It might just kill me.

I open the door of the coffee shop, holding it for an older couple on their way inside. As soon as I step onto the sidewalk, a flash of light red catches my eye, and I turn my head to see a petite woman sprinting toward me, her long, strawberry-blonde hair flowing behind her as she picks up speed. I swear she’s about to run right into…

The woman’s bright blue eyes latch onto mine, a look of fear and desperation emanating from them. The next second, she collides into my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck and clinging to me with every ounce of strength she has.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice scratchy and broken. “Please,” the woman whispers, tears clogging her throat as she buries her head between my neck and shoulder. “Please just… I just… I’m sorry.” My chest caves in at her words, and I hold her close, not sure what drove her into my arms, but knowing with absolute certainty I will destroy whatever and whoever made her feel like this.

“Are you in danger?” I ask, though I already know the answer. The woman sniffles and nods against my shoulder. “Running from a bad man?” Again, she nods, a shiver wracking her body, which I’m trying not to ogle. It’s nearly impossible when her curves are pressed against me, her softness melting into the hard slats of my muscles.

I carry the trembling, terrified woman back inside the coffee shop, hoping to hide her from whoever is chasing her down. Ignoring the curious and shocked glances, I stride through the seating area until I find a booth along the back wall. It will give us some privacy while I figure out who this gorgeous, frightened woman is and how I can help her.

Setting her down on her feet, I guide the woman to sit in the booth. She nearly collapses, but I keep her hand in mine, easing her into the seat. I’m about to grab some napkins from the counter to dry her tears, but as soon as I try to withdraw my hand, she grips it tighter, a heart-shattering whimper falling from her lips.

Kneeling in front of her, I look up into her clear blue eyes, rimmed in red and watery from crying. She sears me with a look of pure sorrow mixed with helplessness. Without knowing a single thing about this woman, I understand her more than she could possibly imagine.

“S-sorry,” she stutters out, blinking away more tears. “I don’t… I don’t… I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her knuckles in what I hope is a soothing gesture.

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