The following day, I helped with another meeting at the community center. The dance studio couldn’t offer me a tryout session so quickly after I’d canceled my last, so I had to wait two more days.
During the meeting, I found out Samuel had indeed spoken with Fiorentino’s father and made it clear they wanted his son to prove his worth.
Fiorentino beamed as he told me. “Tomorrow, Samuel and his father will oversee the first training of new initiates.”
“What happens there?” I asked curiously.
Fiorentino seemed unsure of what to share, and maybe he didn’t know everything, considering he wasn’t yet inducted.
“There is fight training, knife fights, shootings, some questioning.”
I frowned. “Questioning?”
“Some light torture. Nothing an initiate that’s been brought up in our world can’t withstand.”
Fiorentino nodded. Was he prepared, considering his father had never meant for him to become a Made Man?
Geno sank down beside me on a chair, propping his elbows up on his legs. “His father had to harden him. Even if he didn’t become a Made Man, he needs to be able to keep the secrets he witnesses to protect his family.”
“Will you be doing the questioning?”
He nodded. “But not alone. Pietro and Samuel will definitely be involved.”
I swallowed, thinking of my husband and father-in-law torturing teenage boys.
“It’s hard to imagine,” I admitted.
Geno let out a dry laugh, his eyes holding mine with mirth in them. “Not for me. I only know the business side of your husband, so I can tell you he is very capable with a knife.”
How did that go hand in hand with Samuel’s guilt over his friend Domenico’s brutal death? It didn’t make sense, but many rules in the mafia didn’t.
Samuel strode in. Geno looked toward him, and his smile fell. He cleared his throat with a tense smile. “I should really go.”
“Oh sure,” I said, but he was already walking away.
Samuel stopped by my side, then bent down and kissed me firmly, his hand cupping my head possessively. I frowned at him. “Why did Geno run off so quickly when he saw you?”
Samuel’s expression hardened. “Because the look I sent him told him I didn’t like him getting cozy with you.”
“Samuel,” I whispered in embarrassment. “Why would you scare away the man who helps the same cause I want to help? This is important to me. What if he decides it’s better not to have me involved because I mean trouble?”
“He can’t decide that. And because,” Samuel drawled, his eyes boring into mine, “he was checking out my wife.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “You’re serious?”
“I’m dead serious.”
I covered my eyes and giggled. Then I peered up at Samuel. He didn’t crack a smile. He still looked mad. Most men gave us a wide berth, which made me feel bad for the intrusion. “He wasn’t flirting with me. Why would he? He knows I’m yours.”
Samuel crouched down, holding the handle, bringing our faces close together. “Because you’re gorgeous and kind. You’re the woman right out of his wet dreams, I bet. And sometimes men forget themselves if they are surrounded by someone like that.”
I rolled my eyes.
Samuel’s expression hardened even more. “You should trust my judgment and experience on this. I’ve been around enough guys in heat.”
“Well, first of all, I have zero interest in other men. Second, he knows I’m married to his boss. He won’t do anything even if he’s attracted to me because he knows you’d punish him harshly.”
I was still convinced Samuel was simply over-the-top jealous and distrusting, which could be explained by his sister’s betrayal and his nature in general.
Samuel chuckled darkly. “Indeed.” Priest Agnello headed our way so my husband finally straightened and lost the possessive expression. “Samuel, it’s so good to see you. I miss seeing you and your father in church.”
Samuel gave him a tight smile. “I have spent too much time in church burying good soldiers and friends. My mother prays for my father and me. That’s the extent of my spirituality, I fear.”
Priest Agnellus sighed, but I could tell he knew better than to push. He looked down at me. “What about you?”
“I attended church in Indianapolis.” My mother insisted we do. “I’ll join you this Sunday.”
Samuel shook his head, and I was about to grow angry again. He couldn’t possibly have anything against me being in church? “I’m afraid you, Renato, and I will be flying to Indianapolis over the weekend to finalize a bond between him and your friend Giorgia.”
My eyes grew wide with surprise and happiness. I missed Indianapolis, not so much my mother, to my embarrassment, but definitely Giorgia and Danilo.
“Renato has found a wife?” Priest Agnello inquired, astonished. I really hoped Giorgia knew what she was getting into.
“It’s not final yet, but once I’ve talked to the mother and brother of the future bride, it will be,” Samuel said with a hard smile. But Indianapolis wasn’t his territory, and Danilo would make that very clear. I kept my thoughts to myself. Samuel talked to most of the men who were still around after that before we set out home.
I waited until we were in Samuel’s car before I voiced my thoughts. “Giorgia falls under Danilo’s jurisdiction, so her mother and brother will listen to him, not you.”
Samuel’s mouth tightened. “That is true. But Danilo should have an interest in sending your best friend to Minneapolis.”
He had a point. Danilo wouldn’t care if Renato was good husband material for Giorgia.
“When are we leaving?”
“Friday afternoon.”
I was relieved. That meant I could go to dance classes on Thursday.
“Geno told me that tomorrow you’re testing the initiates before they’re allowed to take the vow.”
Samuel’s brows snatched together, but his vigilant eyes stayed on the street. “He should be careful what he says.”
“I’m your wife, so I’m allowed to know these things, right?”
Samuel parked the car in our garage, then turned to me. “If I keep information from you, it’s not because I think you’re not trustworthy. It’s because I know you wouldn’t be able to protect a secret under duress.”
I pursed my lips. “I know pain.”
Samuel looked at the scar peeking out on my neck. It was one of many, though most of them had faded to fine white lines. Mom had insisted I have the best laser therapy to reduce them. Samuel reached out for it and lightly traced it. “That’s true. You have more experience with pain than most girls in our world. But submitting to torture is different. There’s a psychological aspect to it that’s almost as bad as the pain itself, the knowledge of being completely and utterly at someone’s mercy.”
I shuddered. Samuel nodded and left the car, then opened my door and lifted me out of the seat.
When we were at dinner that night, I finally broached the subject of tomorrow again. “Can I watch the initiation process tomorrow?”
I was really curious. I couldn’t deny it.
Samuel gave a tight smile. “This is part of Outfit business, only Made Men and future initiates are allowed to be part of it.”
“I understand.”
Samuel put down his wineglass. Something on his face shifted to a heated look that tightened my belly with desire. “Since seeing Geno smile at you inappropriately, I have been thinking about nothing but staking my claim on you again.”
I blinked, then quickly glanced around to make sure our cook wasn’t around to clear up the dishes. I would have died of mortification.
Samuel chuckled and shoved to his feet, then came around the table toward me. I dabbed my mouth with a napkin, then leaned back in the chair with a teasing smile. “And how are you going to do that?”
Samuel picked me up and kissed me fiercely.
SAMUEL
Emma was still asleep when I got up. For a moment, I looked down at her sleeping form. Her brown curls were all over the place, and her hand rested on my pillow, our wedding ring prominent on her slender finger.
Being married to Emma was easier than I thought. She definitely had a stubborn streak, but she wasn’t someone who played games or who tried to rile me up on purpose. She had her own interests and didn’t just wait all day for me to come home.
I turned and got dressed in my usual gray suit and white dress shirt. I’d change into gym clothes at the training center.
I picked up Father at home. He too was dressed in a suit but a dark one.
“Are you going to get your hands dirty today, or are you too old for that?” I taunted him.
He sent me a dark look. Dad was fifty-seven, but he didn’t look it. He worked out with me five times a week, and had lost the hint of a belly I’d teased him with for months. “Considering you are going to become Underboss soon and will be the one these new soldiers will answer to, you should be the one to question and test them. But I certainly won’t stand back and watch.”
“Do you really think you can retire soon?”
Dad looked at me with searching eyes. “If you don’t think you’re ready yet—”
“I am,” I said firmly. My demons would still haunt me in five, ten, or twenty years. “Or does Dante disagree?”
“You have been very efficient and proven your worth over the past few years. He won’t hold on to an incident from the past.”
“It wasn’t an incident. It was a betrayal of the Outfit that cost three of Dante’s soldiers their lives.”
Dad nodded. “Dante has his own skeletons in the closet.”
Dad had said it before but never explained it. Feeling my curious gaze on him, he leaned back with a deep sigh. “I might not always be there. As long as Dante is your Capo, you should have something in your hand.”
I parked in front of the square building that held our training center, then waited for Dad to continue. I was surprised by his words. Dante and Dad liked each other, and we had a good family bond, but of course, in our world, that didn’t mean you didn’t have to take certain precautions.
“Rocco Scuderi Senior, the traitorous bastard, had a brother. Jacopo.”
I had never heard of him. He had died long before I was initiated, I assumed.
“Dante killed him even though he was set to become his Consigliere.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Why? Did he try to betray the Outfit?”
“Oh no. He was loyal to the bone and as sadistic as they come.”
I gave my father a look. We too held a certain sadistic streak, or we couldn’t do what our work required. Dad shook his head. “You don’t understand. He was sadistic to women too, and your mother was promised to him.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding. “And Dante saved her from that fate.”
“He did, and he convinced his old man to give your mother to me.”
“But that means Dante’s betrayal saved Mom and helped you too.”
“It did. I’ll forever be grateful for what he did. But you are my child, and I’ll always make sure you are protected, so I think it might be wise for you to learn more about Dante’s past.”
“Thanks, Dad. But I have no intention of bringing myself into another situation that requires blackmailing Dante.” I wasn’t even sure if that was still something I could blackmail him with. Dante’s power was solidified, and the Scuderis didn’t hold any power at the moment.
We got out of the car and entered the vast building through the steel door. Inside the hall was split into different areas, one for martial arts and box fights, one for knife technique, and one for shooting, though that one was separated by noise barriers. Then there was an area off to the side where recruits would be submitted to light torture to test their endurance. This was where a recruit failed on occasion.
Most boys gathering in the hall for their evaluation today were fifteen or sixteen, but I caught sight of a few who looked a bit younger. Sometimes poor families of Italian descent hoped to earn money that way, but they didn’t know what price they had to pay first for money to start rolling in.
A hush fell over the boys and our soldiers as my father and I strode through the hall toward the back of the hall, where lockers and benches were situated. There wasn’t a privacy screen, and the three boys about to change out of their day clothes looked intimidated as my father and I stopped beside them.
I gave them a nod. Then I shrugged out of my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt. Of course, I could feel many of the boys throw me curious glances as I undressed down to my briefs. My body was littered with scars, and I made sure I was ripped. Dad did the same routinely. He too carried the scars of a man his position accumulated over the years. When I was dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, I headed toward Geno and two more soldiers who would help with the testing today.
I shook their hands, then motioned to the knife fight area. “I’ll start with the knife skills.”
“I’ll focus on shooting and questioning,” Father said.
“Will you join the questioning later too?” Geno asked me.
“Of course. But first, I’d like to get my heart rate up with some fighting.”
Geno chuckled. “Torture doesn’t have that effect on you after a while.”
“No,” I agreed.
I moved toward the mats where the knife fights were about to take place. There were also a few puppets to see the throwing technique of the boys. But I would get them tired before they could prove their aim. It was harder to hit a target if you were out of breath.
I noticed a tall boy whose face reminded me of Greco Senior, especially the square jaw. Unlike the other boys, he was by himself. He noticed my gaze and straightened. I motioned for him to come closer.
With a swallow I could see from afar, he pushed away from the wall and strode toward me under the scrutiny of his peers. “Fiorentino?” I asked louder than I usually would. I wasn’t sure how well he could hear me despite his hearing aids, and it was loud in the hall.
He nodded and gave me a hesitant smile.
“Why are you here?”
“To become a part of the Outfit,” he said without missing a beat, straightening even more. His speech was slightly off, but I had no trouble understanding him.
“I’ll test your fight skills first.”
He reached for his hearing aid.
“What are you doing?”
He flushed. “I want to take it off for the fight.”
I shook my head. “If this was a real fight, you’d need your hearing as an additional help against the enemy.”
“But it could fall off during fighting.”
“Of course, but until then, let’s use it to your advantage.”
The moment I began sparring with Fiorentino, it became apparent how determined and well-trained he was. There was still room for improvement, but he was better than many of the other boys here today.
I gave him a pleased nod as I pulled him to his feet after I’d thrown him to the ground. “Good work. Now show me your knife skills.”
His hands shook as he took the knife from me, but after a few deep breaths, they steadied, and he hit the target with his first throw.
When I was done with him, I motioned for the next recruit to step forward. Fiorentino moved on to the shooting area.
After an hour of testing fight skills, I moved on to the questioning. It was a crucial skill to protect secrets.
It was the turn of one of the boys who had shown lacking fight and knife skills. Despite this, he acted with utter confidence, even arrogance. He was the son of a Captain and probably considered himself above failure.
I nodded toward the chair in the center of this area, and he sank down on it with spread legs. “You know the rules. If you say stop, it equals breaking your vow of silence.”
“Got it.”
It didn’t take much for him to scream stop at the top of his lungs. My knife had left the shallowest cut in his arm, nothing that should get any kind of sound out of him. I tried a few other things, but it became apparent very quickly that he was incapable of tolerating a decent level of pain. He was useless for our purposes. If he had shown promise during fight training or knife skills, I might have considered allowing him to move on, but as it was, he needed a few more months to harden up. “Right now, you’re not ready to continue the initiation process. Train with your father and come back in six months.”
He staggered to his feet, his face turning red as he glanced around at the whispering recruits. “I’m already sixteen! I need to become a recruit.”
“Not with the skills or lack thereof that you displayed today,” I said simply. I didn’t like the challenging gleam in his eyes one bit.
He pointed at Fiorentino, who waited for his turn. “It’s not fair that someone like him becomes part of the Outfit, and I don’t.”
I grabbed him by the collar and glared down at him. “Then get a grip and stop bawling like a fucking pussy because I cut you.”
“It’s a stupid test.”
I shoved him to the ground. “If you can’t protect the Outfit’s secrets with your fucking blood, your fucking life, then you are not worthy of becoming a Made Man, understood? You can’t even begin to understand how little pain you’ve experienced yet. If you want to know real pain, then read the autopsy reports of the soldiers sent back from Camorra torture. And now get out of my sight, or I’ll give you a real taste of what torture looks like.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide. “My father will disinherit me if I don’t become a part of the Outfit!”
His father was Captain. His son had no chance of becoming one unless he improved drastically over the next months. Maybe one day, he could become a lowly soldier without any secrets to protect. “Then your father should have made you stronger.”
I looked down at his spiteful expression and hoped he’d keep whatever he wanted to say to himself. He scrambled to his feet. I turned to the next recruit. The boy spat in front of my feet. “At least I’m not fucking a cripple.”
“Oh shit,” Geno muttered.
I barely registered the unified intake of breaths as I lunged at the asshole. He had no chance against me as I slammed him to the ground. “Hold his tongue for me,” I snarled, overcome with utter rage. How dare he use that word?
Geno got down beside me, and with the help of another soldier, they extracted the boy’s tongue so I could cut off the tip. His eyes shot open as blood spurted out, and he screamed. He was lucky I didn’t rip his entire tongue out. This way, he could still speak.
I rose to my feet and stepped back, breathing harshly, then held out my knife toward one of the boys. “Clean it.” He took it and dashed away toward the sinks. “Remove this worthless piece of shit from here and tell everyone that I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting my wife or using that fucking slur.”
Geno and the other soldier yanked the boy to his feet and dragged him away. Had he thought not being a Made Man and only sixteen would protect him? I had tortured people younger than him. This world didn’t protect you only because you weren’t an adult by outside standards. I would never allow anyone to talk about Emma that way.
“Mr. Mione, your knife,” a familiar, slightly slurred voice said. I glared at Fiorentino, still riled up, but he held my gaze until I took the knife. “Do you want to go next?”
Fiorentino swallowed but nodded. I motioned for him to move toward the chair so Geno, who was back, could shackle him to it. He had to step over the blood puddle on the floor that nobody had cleaned yet.
Dad stepped up to me, his expression unreadable. “Do you want me to take over?”
“Worried I’ll hurt them too much?”
Dad regarded me closely. He didn’t know I still had nightmares about Domenico. He stepped back. “I’ll return to the shooting range.”
I turned to Fiorentino. Unlike the asshole before him, he withstood the torture I subjected him to. After two more recruits, I excused myself and went to the changing area. I texted Renato and asked him if he had time to go out for drinks tonight. I fucking needed to get shit-faced. Then I told Emma I had too much work to do to be home for dinner.
Dad joined me.
“If Emma asks Mom or you, I’m working late tonight.”
Dad’s expression tightened with disapproval. “But you’re not.”
“I’m heading out with Renato. I need to take my mind off things.”
“In one of Renato’s establishments?”
“I’m faithful to Emma, Dad, no need for that disappointed voice. I’m not a boy.”
“Are things going well?” Dad asked quietly.
I looked around with a frown. “They are.” Dad nodded, then returned to the recruits. I took a small flask from my gym bag, briefly hesitated when I remembered Emma’s concern regarding my drinking habits, then took a few gulps from the vodka before I screwed the top back on and returned to the knife fight area. Two recruits broke down under torture today, especially the first younger one… what a day. I knew my night would be filled with familiar horrors if I didn’t manage to drink myself into a stupor.
