Page 11 of Second Chance for a Made Man

He’s a smart man and not one that I would underestimate; also not someone I’m willing to trust. I may have signed my soul over to him a long time ago, but there’s a desperate, possibly naive part of me that still believes I’m not entirely his; I have achance at living a life for myself again, whatever that looks like. But I owe it to myself to find out. If only to prove to myself that I’m more than just an errand boy, more than just an executioner, and more than just La Fiamma.

I walk to another table not far from Massimo’s where a couple of my friends, if you can call them that, are seated. More like cell-mates, or we might as well be by the way this club has us locked down, no chance of escape. They might not know about my life in Brattleboro, but we’re tight. We’ve seen and done the unspeakable together, brushing shoulders with death; yet somehow keep living to see another day. I trust them with my life. They’d take a bullet for me and vice versa. If that’s not friendship, what is?

“Elizabeth! You made it.” Crew grins at me when I sink down into the chair next to him.

“Shut the fuck up.” I punch his shoulder hard, and he’s thrown back with enough force to send his chair off balance. The legs teeter for a precarious second, then give out, the chairing spilling on the floor with him in it. The rest of the table erupts in laughter.

Crew is the enforcer for the Moratti family, Massimo’s right hand, and I know for a fact that the two are thick as thieves. But at these things, they don’t sit together in the case of an unexpected intrusion, which is nearly impossible since the whole of Providence. Hell, the entire state of Rhode Island is in the palm of Massimo’s calloused hand, so the head of the organization and heir apparent aren’t gunned down together.

An internal attack is probably more likely to take him out, but like I said, club morale is high, and the guy’s pockets are all getting lined generously; I don’t see anyone complaining or contemplating death by taking a shot at either of them. Hell, every guy in this place is armed to the teeth; you’d be lucky to get your finger over the trigger before yourfriendput a bullet in theback of your head. Because sure, we’d take bullets for each other, but we also wouldn’t hesitate if you pose a threat.

The guys don’t know my name, but they know it starts with E thanks to Massimo’s nickname. Naturally they like to guess with the most feminine “E” names they can think of, and I retaliate. It’s all in good fun, though.

“Anyone else want to attempt any guesses tonight?” I put my hand threateningly behind my back where they know my gun is hidden–it’s all for show, of course. They all raise their hands in surrender.

As Crew gets up off the floor and drags his chair back to the table, Mona, one of the girls working the floor places a beer in front of me, running her hand across my back appreciatively. I shoot her a waning glance, and she takes her hand off me. I made the mistake of fucking her six months ago, and she’s been trying to get with me again ever since.

“So what’s up, man? Feels like you haven’t been around in forever,” Crew comments as he settles next to me.

I shrug nonchalantly, “I haven’t really felt the social scene.” I came here with the intention of having fun and to pick girls up, but ever since that unreal night with Charlotte, the idea of being with another woman makes my skin crawl. A dilemma I need to solve. And soon, for my dick and my sanity’s sake.

“Why not?”

I shrug again and change the subject. “How’s work going?” By day, he’s the CEO of one of the top law firms in Providence. And probably because of his extensive knowledge of the law and its loopholes, he’s able to navigate the world of crime slicker than the rest of the idiots here. No one would fucking think he’s the enforcer for the branch of the Italian mafia in Rhode Island. Of course, the name he uses in the office probably isn’t Crew. Just like Massimo doesn’t use that moniker in his world as a business mogul.

“Same old, same old, getting idiots out of trouble and out of jail.”

I nod, my gaze moving to the stage where three girls are working the pole, dancing to the tune of a low song crooning through the speakers. I stare at them without much interest.

“See something you like?” Crew asks.

“Not particularly.” But since I’m here anyway, I might as well take advantage of the pool of willing women surrounding me. One of them has to get me out of this funk, otherwise I’m doomed.

“Think I’m going to move up to the bar,” I say getting to my feet. Crew does the same.

“Me too.”

We walk closely together, and almost as soon as we reach the stools, the bartender is in front of us. He places our drinks on coasters, knowing our order from years of ordering the same thing, then he wisely moves on to help someone else. I nurse my drink as I stare at a couple of girls down the bar. I completely ignore the brunette, wanting the exact opposite of Charlie tonight.

Damn it, there she goes again, crawling into my head, consuming my thoughts. What I wouldn’t give to have just one more night with her to resolve my insatiable hunger–but that’s not an option.

“Ever think of getting out?”

My head snaps to Crew as I growl, “What the fuck, man? You know better than to say that here.” I don’t need to ask him where he wants to get out from.I know.

“Well, do you?”

I don’t just think about it. I fantasize about it, make elaborate plans that I never act on, and obsess over it constantly. I dream about it every morning when I’m in the shower, dreading a text from Massimo. My mind races with the possibility every nightwhen my head hits the pillow, knowing that if I escaped a call from him that day, I’m unlikely to be so lucky the following one. I never make any move toward freedom because everyone knows that the only way you get out is in a body bag–if you’re not one of the unlucky ones who ends up at the bottom of a river, that is.

“No, and you shouldn’t either,” I answer. Crew is my friend, and I trust him the most out of the men gathered here, but he’s still the enforcer. I wouldn’t be surprised if this line of questioning isn’t really coming from him. Is this Massimo’s way of feeling me out?

I glance at the man himself. He has his arm around one of the club girls and is whispering something into her ear that makes her giggle. As if he feels my gaze, his head snaps up and turns in my direction. He glances at me first, then Crew, and the corner of his lips tilt up.

Fucking hell, he’s onto me alright. He’s not just feeling me out, he’s using my friendship with Crew to psych me out. He knows I’d catch on to his little game, the threat is clear.

I stand up from the stool suddenly wanting…no, needing to get away. It’s an open bar, so I just straighten my jacket and drop a tip for the bartender.

“My question really pissed you off that bad?” Crew asks.

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