Witness: A Dark Mafia Romance (Romano Brothers Book 2) Read online

  Witness

  Romano Brothers Book 2

  Samantha Cade

  ‘Witness’ Copyright Samantha Cade 2017

  All Rights Reserved

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  Chapter One

  ————————

  Lily

  This place is a time capsule. Standing beneath the chandelier that’s far too fancy and expensive for a teenage girl’s room, my feet nestled in the lush carpeting, I’m frozen in an era I’m desperately trying to escape. There’s the yellow wallpaper with purple flowers I picked out in the seventh grade. It doesn’t look aged at all. There’s no peeling. The pastels, which should be faded after all this time, are as bright and cheery as the day it was installed. I suspect Mom replaces it every couple of years, though she’d never admit it.

  The duffel bag I’m clutching holds the few possessions of my adult life. The contents are paltry, because it’s all I’ve been able to afford on my own. My old room is much nicer than the apartment I just left. The drapes alone cost more than my monthly rent in Brooklyn. There are no dripping pipes, noisy neighbors, or the view of the tiny, sad outdoor space that’s constantly overrun by dog poop.

  This is a step back, and even more depressing, a step up.

  I unzip the duffel bag and dump the contents onto the fluffy pink bed. The apartment I just left was furnished, so all I have are a few pairs of clothes, underwear, and toiletries.

  I also have my vision board, folded in a side pocket of the bag. I pull it out and unfold it, wondering why I’d bother to pack it.

  Because you haven’t given up yet, I remind myself.

  I made this junior year in college. It’s rectangular poster board covered with pictures I cut out of magazines. It’s supposed to represent my dreams for the future. I still get a flurry in my chest when I look at it. I refuse to give up on the aspirations I’ve held all my life. Though in all honesty, they are all vague. The pictures I glued to the board are of women in chic business suits hailing cabs, talking seriously into cell phones, and navigating busy city streets in stiletto heels.

  I’d thought that after college, my adult life would start immediately. So, I moved to the city and started looking for jobs. All I could find in my field of study, marketing, were unpaid internships. Now I’m here, back in Jersey, in the room I thought I’d left behind for good.

  I’m contemplating hanging the board over my desk for motivation, when a dark shape darts across it. A fat water bug stops over a picture of a glamorous corner office, twitching its spindly feelers. It’s most likely a stowaway from my old apartment. I scream, tossing the board onto the bed. I grab a magazine and slam it on the bug. Dark blood splatters across a business woman’s impeccably made up face.

  I’m staring with disgust at the carnage when I hear a knock on my door. Mom doesn’t wait for permission. She just opens the door and walks in.

  “Everything’s just how you left it,” Mom says, sitting on my bed.

  I quickly fold the bloody vision board and toss it on my desk.

  “I see that,” I say.

  Mom cocks her head and sighs, looking at me wistfully. I hate when she looks at me like that, like I’m some gift from above. I’m more than that. I have worth, and so much to give to the world.

  “Your father and I want you to know, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

  “Thanks,” I say, shoving a handful of socks into a drawer. “But I’ll only need a month, tops. I’ll keep looking for a job, and take the train into the city for interviews.”

  Mom scrunches her face with disgust. “Why would you want to take the dirty train? I know. Your father mentioned getting you a graduation present. Let’s swing by the Mercedes dealership, see if there’s something you like.”

  My skin crawls, not because I’m annoyed at the question, but because of how tempting it is to take her up on it. I knew it would be hard to stay focused here with my mother trying to coddle me at every turn.

  “You already got me a graduation present. The earrings.”

  “Oh, right,” Mom says, nodding. “I only forgot because I never see you wear them.”

  I laugh. “I don’t have many opportunities to wear five carat diamond earrings. I’m unemployed, remember?”

  Mom taps her finger against her chin, sensing an opportunity. “We should’ve gotten you something more practical.” She smiles conspiratorially. “How about that car?”

  “Thank you, but no,” I say, trying to keep my voice down. I take her hands and look into her eyes, trying to appeal to her. “I need to figure out how to take care of myself. I appreciate all you and Dad have done for me, but I’m an adult now.”

  Mom gives a little sniffle, but there are no tears in her eyes. “I just want to help you. When I look at you, I still see my little girl.”

  “Oh my God, Mom,” I say with a groan, pulling my hands away.

  “All right, all right. How about we just get lunch? And if we happen to drive by the dealership-“

  “I can’t,” I say, cutting her off. “I’m meeting Jenna and Tyler for lunch.”

  Mom smiles, nodding curtly. “The gang’s back together again. I feel like I’ve gone back in time. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  ————————

  The restaurant Tyler suggested occupies an old hardware store that closed just before I graduated high school. Inside, it has distressed wooden tables, a menu written on a chalkboard, and an impressive array of draft beer.

  I spot Jenna and Tyler at a table waiting for me. When I walk up to them, they jump from their chairs, hugging me and fawning over me like they haven’t seen me for years.

  “This place is nice,” I say, sitting down. “The neighborhood’s getting hip.”

  “I know, right?” Tyler says. “Who needs Brooklyn?”

  “You’re finally here,” Jenna says, grabbing my arms. Her brown eyes twinkle with excitement.

  “You finally decided to stop being stubborn. Congratulations,” Tyler says.

  “Stubborn?” I say. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know,” Tyler says. “You were holding out.”

  “Ty and I didn’t make it three months,” Jenna says. “Our apartments were so impossibly tiny. I don’t know how we survived.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I say.

  Jenna scoffs at me. “There was no closets . Literally, every inch of my floor was covered in shoes. I didn’t have anywhere else to put them.”

  Tyler grasps my hand. “You made it six months. Good for you.”

  My friends look towards the menu. There’s an indignant tingling in my belly I can’t ignore.

  “I wasn’t being stubborn, or holding out. I was trying to get started,” I say.

  “On what?” Jenna asks.

  “A career. A life. You know, being an adult.”

  “Right, sure,” Tyler says. “And now you’re back.”

  I straighten my spine. “Temporarily. I’ll still look for a job. What about you guys?”

  Jenna’s eyes dart around the room. “Still looking. Sure.”

  “Of course,” Tyler says. “Shooting out resumes. Looking for the right fit.” He takes a sip of rosemary infused lemonade.

  “Right,” I say. “I mean, we can’t live with our parents forever.”

  Jenna and Tyler exchange solemn glances. “No,” they say in unison.

  Tyler turns to me with renewed energy. “Since it’s your first night back, I have something exciting planned for us.”

  I
sigh with relief. “Oh, thank God. I need to have some fun. So, what’s the plan?”

  “I know a guy, who knows another guy can get us some Molly,” Tyler says.

  He and Jenna excitedly clap their hands. They look at me expectantly, and realize I’m not enthused.

  “What?” Tyler asks bluntly.

  “You remember the last time I did Molly,” I say, defensively. “Sophomore year of college. I was walking around in a funk for two weeks after. I missed so many assignments. I swore never to do it again.”

  “So?” Tyler shrugs. “Just stay in bed for two weeks.”

  “I can’t just stay in bed. You have to treat searching for a job like a job.”

  Tyler and Jenna look at each other and shudder.

  “That’s the most awful thing I’ve ever heard,” Tyler says.

  “It’s not that bad,” I say. “It gives me a purpose. Every morning, I’m up by six. After I make my coffee, I look at the new job postings. I spend the morning researching the companies I’m interested in, and following them on social media. Then I tailor my CV specifically for each one.”

  “Stop,” Tyler says, holding up his hands. “Just stop.”

  “Sweetie,” Jenna says. “It sounds like you need a break.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t take a break. Persistence is key.”

  Tyler leans back in his chair, groaning. “You always do this. You go after something so hard, and you don’t know when to stop. Maybe if you have to try so hard to get something, it’s not meant to be.”

  I laugh dismissively. “I wouldn’t say ‘not meant to be.’ The marketing industry is saturated with applicants right now. I can’t give up. I’m not wasting my time.”

  Tyler takes my hand and pats the top of it. “Of course you’re not. What you need to do is slow down, take a breather. You deserve it, okay?” He leans forward, looking into my eyes. “Lily, take the drugs.”

  Tyler squeezes my hand so tight my fingertips go a little numb. I know he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And maybe he’s right. I do need a break. My anxiety has been out of control lately.

  “Maybe I’ll take half a pill,” I concede.

  “Yes,” Jenna says, pumping her fists.

  “I’ll pick you up at ten,” Tyler says.

  “Why so late?” I ask.

  Tyler purses his lips with impatience. “Because that’s when we’re meeting the contact.”

  “Where is the contact?”

  Tyler looks down, studying his nails. “Club Neon.”

  My mouth drops. Mentally, I draw into myself. I haven’t heard those words in years. I’d hoped to never hear them again.

  “No, we can’t go there,” I say. “That place is scary. Everyone in there is mobbed up.”

  “Where else do you think we’d go to pick up drugs?” Tyler says. “The country club?”

  “You can get drugs there,” I counter.

  Jenna sticks her bottom lip out. “I’m not in the mood for ‘scripts.”

  Tyler narrows his eyes at me, crossing his arms. “I know you’re not scared to go to Club Neon. We used to go all the time. Come on, Lily, tell the truth. You’re afraid of bumping into Mateo.”

  Heat rushes to my face. I know I’m rapidly turning increasingly deeper shades of red. Damn this automatic response. It always gives me away.

  “I’m sure he won’t be there,” Jenna says.

  “Look, we’ll get in, we’ll get out. Easy peasy,” Tyler says. He raises an eyebrow, and tilts his forehead towards me. “And so what if we do see him. He was pretty hot, if I remember correctly.”

  The heat in my face rushes down to my core. “That’s an understatement,” I say.

  “What’s wrong with old flames reigniting?” Tyler says.

  “A hot guy is the perfect way to get your mind off of things,” Jenna says.

  I look around the restaurant, then lower my voice. “You guys know why I broke up with him. He’s from a mafia family, remember? That shit’s dangerous. I’m not getting tangled up in that.”

  “Hot and dangerous,” Tyler says, fanning his face.

  “I remember those brown eyes,” Jenna says, fawning. “And his arms. They were so muscular. Did you guys ever… you know?”

  “No.” I clear my throat and take a deep swallow of water. “I broke up with him before we could, um, get to that.”

  “That’s a shame,” Tyler says.

  You’re telling me, I think. I’ve never been with a guy as hot as Mateo. He’s celebrity hot, model hot, with warm, olive skin, deep brown eyes, and body that looks like it’s been cut from stone. I can’t count how many nights I’ve lain awake, imagining dragging the tip of my tongue across the peaks and valleys of his solid abs. A part of me is curious to get a glimpse of him, to see if he’s as mouthwatering now as he was back then. I wouldn’t talk to him, of course.

  “We’ll go to Club Neon,” I say. “We get in, we get out.”

  Chapter Two

  ————————

  Mateo

  “Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.”

  I count through gritted teeth, thrusting the weights up with every ounce of my strength. My biceps are burning. I constrict my core muscles, keeping them rigid and strong. Sweat pours down my forehead, burning my eyes. I’m lifting a lot of weight, nearly enough to be dangerous. I can barely breathe, yet I thrust my arms up, faster and faster. I stop counting and start grunting. But even with all of this exertion, I can’t get rid of it, the pent up, prickly ball in the bottom of my stomach.

  I’ve worked like hell to get to where I am. I’ve had to prove myself to Pop and my brothers over and over. I have more money than I’ve ever had in my life. I spend my days crushing pussy, and my nights enforcing.

  Why do I still feel stuck?

  Everything’s changed, but I don’t feel any different. It’s something I can’t shake, yet I don’t want to think about it. It makes me feel weak, which I’m anything fucking but.

  I push the barbell up as far as my arms will stretch. This time, I’ve gone too far. A sharp, stabbing pain jolts through my shoulders. I yell, slamming the bar back into its rest with a clatter. I sit up on the benchpress, and bury my sweaty face in my hands.

  Weights, fighting, fucking… nothing works. No matter what I’m doing, it’s always there, in the back of my mind, something I can’t put my finger on. I’ve tried to flush it out with adrenaline, but it’s like it can’t be touched.

  “Man the fuck up,” I grumble to myself. That’s what Pop would say if I told him about my existential crisis. I’m a Romano man. I have duty, responsibility. People are counting on me. An entire legacy rests on my shoulders. I don’t have time to worry over this meaningless shit.

  I leave the weight room, and walk into the main area of the pool hall to find something to drink. This is the center of our operations. This pool hall hasn’t been open to the public in years, though on paper, it’s a legit business owned by my family. It even turns a profit every quarter.

  I’m downing a bottle of water when I hear a knock at the door. It’s a light, scared knock. I open the door, and a scrawny kid is staring back at me. He’s John’s guy, a messenger, here to deliver a payment. I open the door wider and invite him in.

  I take him into the office, and sit behind Pop’s desk. I always feel like an imposter sitting here, even though I have every right to do so. No one else is here to tend to this business. The kid throws a heavy envelope on the desk. I don’t even look at it, I just look at him. He’s blinking rapidly, and his pale face is turning red. I know John sends this fidgety teenager on purpose. He thinks my family and I will take pity on him. But that’s not my style.

  I reach into my back pocket, pull out my glock, and lay in on the desk in front of me. The kid goes weak in the knees, and stumbles a little.

  “That’s better,” I say, shifting in my seat.

  I open the envelope and count the cash out loud. When I get to the last bill, I slam the stack on the desk, making
him jump.

  “John’s short again,” I say through my teeth.

  The kid fidgets with his shirt. “Well, you know, John’s been sick.”

  “I know that. Last I heard, he was all better. And we gave him a break for over a year. The rate’s gone back up.”

  The kid throws his hands up. He must be feeling brave. “I don’t know what to tell you. John just gave me the envelope.”

  I stand up fast, slamming my hands against the desk, making the gun clatter. The kid immediately loses his temporary confidence, and backs away from me. I laugh at the fear in his eyes, then walk around the desk. The kid looks like he’s going to puke when I pat him hard on the back.

  “Tell John I’m coming to see him tonight,” I say, my mouth inches from his ear. “He better have my money.”

  The kid gulps, and his face goes white.

  “Get out of here,” I say, giving him a shove.

  The kid stumbles to the door. When he opens it, Vince is standing there.

  “Hey there, Russ,” Vince says.

  The kid mumbles something, then rushes past him.

  “What did you do?” Vince asks me.

  I shrug. “Just doing my job.” I grab the envelope and throw into Vince’s chest. “That asshole from Club Neon is short again.”

  Vince opens the envelope and rifles through the cash. I clench my hands into fists as fresh rage rushes through me.

  “That’s the third time in a row,” I say. “He thinks he can do this to us after the generosity we’ve shown him?”

  “We’ve given him plenty of time to get back on his feet,” Vince says.

  “I’ll take care of it tonight.”

  Vince nods. “Okay, good. Just don’t-“

  “Don’t what?”

  “Just don’t get carried away.”

  I pick up the pistol and slip it into the waistband of my pants. I give Vince a cocky grin. “Who me?”

  “Don’t fucking joke like that,” Vince says. “Just rough him up a little, but not too much, and only if you have to. John’s got connections to other families. If they lose one of their clients, they’re coming after us.”