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  EXCERPT FROM The Don's Enforcer, Mafia Mate Book Two

  ONE

  "Listen to this, Danny." Jimmy punched at the touch pad on his phone screen as he scowled. The expression on Jimmy's face was so unlike the mellowed version of his boss that Danny had seen since his wedding three days earlier that Danny stiffened.

  He hadn't even sat down yet and Jimmy was cross. It was not a good sign.

  From Jimmy's phone, a recording from Jimmy's mother played. Danny frowned, and that frown grew into a scowl as he digested what Mrs. Savaggio, a woman whom he'd called Nonna since he and Jimmy were boys, was saying.

  "You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was serious, Jimmy. But the poor girl, she's beside herself. Lucia and her parents uprooted their entire lives in New Jersey to come here, they left behind everything, but somehow this-this-this coglione has found them here."

  Danny set up when Nonna mentioned the girl. He'd seen Lucia Venezia at Jimmy and Rosalia's wedding three days earlier. She was perfection, an angel with dark brown curls that framed her face and full pink lips. She'd worn mascara that framed big dark eyes and tiny pearl stud earrings with a tailored, traditional white blouse and a matching pearl necklace. She'd had on a dusky pink pencil skirt that clung to her hips and thighs. The hem brushed the top of pink suede boots that stretched to mid-thigh. They were a stunning, daring contrast to the traditional top half of her outfit, one that drew the attention of every man in the room, despite her age.

  He'd gotten a painful hard-on just looking at the gorgeous, lush ass that swayed beneath that skirt, but her new role as companion to Jimmy's mother and her obvious youth had made him grit his teeth and look away.

  He and his dick had dreamed of her ever since. Every time he came in his own hand, he prayed she was legal. Despite the fact she wasn't in school, she could easily have convinced any copper that she wasn't even old enough to drive a car.

  Danny uttered a low growl, one he disguised by choking out a cough and sitting heavily in the chair across from Jimmy's desk.

  "It's Lucia Venezia, Danny," Jimmy explained unnecessarily. "If it was one of the businesses, I'd send Lanz, but this is Mama. She'll expect me or you personally. Max did a background on Lucia and her parents the morning after Mama was in the hospital, before we hired her. They are clean, but we're still waiting on the extensive investigative report. No legal problems, money is okay but not spectacular. Both parents work at the college over on the west side, so Lucia is home alone most days. That's why Nonna suggested she would be a good fit for a part-time companion. The family didn't move here until just before the fall semester started. Lucia had two straight-A college semesters at NYU last year, but she didn't go back this year. She told her friends that she didn't want to waste her parents' tuition money until she decided what she was going to do with her life, even though she had already declared a double major in history and art restoration."

  She'd already done a year of college. So she was at least legal, even if she was still too fucking young for him. Danny thanked all the saints he knew, by name, one at a time. After that, he shifted in his chair and murmured, "So what do you think is going on?"

  "I don't know," Jimmy returned grimly. "But I trust you to fix it."

  Lucia's fingers flicked over her cell phone screen. She wanted to call her mother and father immediately, but Mrs. Savaggio had convinced her to wait, at least for a bit. The elderly woman had called her son and promised her that Jimmy would take care of everything. Lucia knew what that meant. She'd known since the day that Margot Willoughby had come to the front door and asked Lucia to become Mrs. Savaggio's companion. In addition to the extremely fair salary that came with the job, Margot had explained, Lucia would be under the protection of the Savaggio family as an employee of Oswego Corporation.

  Jimmy Savaggio was the head of the fucking mob, at least in this part of New York state.

  She choked back a silent laugh. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, not if she – and by extension, her parents – now fell under his protection. Or maybe when he found out exactly why they'd picked up and fled New Jersey, Jimmy Savaggio would drop her and her parents like a basket of hot potatoes.

  But where could they go if they left here? Her parents had spent a good part of their savings to relocate in secret already. Once they'd found jobs, the three of them left their New Jersey home sitting empty, and fled with nothing more than they could fit in their two cars and a small Budget truck rental that they'd rented and loaded in the dead of night. They'd spent two weeks driving aimlessly around New England before the house they'd found in town was available to rent. The three of them had cancelled all their social media accounts, cut ties with their friends and extended family, didn't forward their mail, gotten new phones and phone numbers, and didn't file a forwarding address with the post office. It all seemed to be in vain now, only three months later.

  Lucia supposed it wasn't easy to disappear in a world where everyone was connected, and it was entirely possible her parents' enemies had connections in government or big data that made finding them even easier.

  Despite everything, though, she liked upper New York, much more than she'd expected. She didn't want to leave. Maybe it had to do with the warm and welcoming aura of their next-door neighbor, Signora Savaggio, who was achingly familiar – like the Italian grandmothers she'd only met a few times as a child. Her own grandmothers had been left behind in Italy, and had both died while Lucia was in middle school. Mrs. Savaggio had immediately sent them food when they'd moved in, and a regular stream of invitations to visit had followed. Lucia had benefited most, although her mother was one of those rare Italian women who didn't enjoy the kitchen. Lucia and her father did most of the cooking and were grateful for the bounty from the Savaggio kitchen that eased their daily chores.

  "Danny!" From the family room at the back of the house, Lucia heard the signora's exclamation of delight as she answered her own front door, something Lucia had been doing for the last few days, at least until a few hours earlier. "I knew Jimmy would send someone right away. Thank you so much for coming, mio figlio."

  Her son? Lucia stood, wrinkling her nose in confusion. Lucia had thought that the signora had only one son – Jimmy.

  But the man walking into the room was not Jimmy Savaggio. She'd seen the mob boss, handsome as sin but oddly nervous, on the day of his marriage a few days ago. The man in front of her was something completely different. He was as hard and as solid as Savaggio, though larger. Not purely Italian, Danny had a square jaw and short buzzed haircut. His eyes were brilliant blue and his nose flat. He was dressed in dark jeans and combat boots, and a black leather jacket he hadn't yet unzipped. His coloring was a dark gold that made her want to lick him to see how he tasted.

  Lucia tried to swallow.

  "Tell me exactly what's wrong, nonna," he demanded, his gaze intent on Lucia.

  She tried not to bristle, but couldn't help herself. He didn't just fix on her face but his gaze swept over her entire body, all the way down her jeans to her pink chunky-heeled booties with their lacework tops.

  The signora sniffed. "Lucia can explain much better, I think. Sit, Danny, and I'll get you a hot drink."

  Lucia straightened. "I think that's my job, signora," she reminded the other woman. "You're to sit and rest."

  "Everyone will sit now," Danny insisted, directing a glare at Lucia as he took Mrs. Savaggio's arm and guided her to a chair. "No drinks. Explanations, please."

  "Danny, that is quite enough attitude," Mrs. Savaggio objected.

  "It's really not –" Lucia tried to demur.

  "Explain, now," the big man insisted, his brows lowering into a glower.

  "I just need to tell my parents, then we can pack and leave –"

  "Lucia, I said to explain yourself," he barked.

  "Danny, that's quite enough," Mrs. Savaggio int
ervened.

  Mob boss, Lucia reminded herself, or at least a high-ranking underling, someone that Mrs. Savaggio knew well enough to mother. She didn't want to be on the bad side of this man, especially not now. "We're just going to have to leave here," she sighed. But before Mrs. Savaggio could dress down this overly masculine, dominant man again, Lucia decided to explain. Even as she spoke, she couldn't help staring at him, taking in his magnetic presence. She wished she could touch him, to take some of his power inside of her and hold onto it tightly.

  "My parents, before we moved here, worked for a corporate translation service. In the course of their work, they were – probably mistakenly – given a set of contracts of sale to translate from Italian to English that referenced certain art pieces that were reported as missing or stolen from museums in northern Italy and Austria – black market art. My mother is very much in touch with the art world and recognized the descriptions. Instead of staying quiet, however, my parents made secret copies of the contracts and turned them over anonymously to the FBI. Later, they saw a news story that the feds intercepted the shipments and recovered the art, and my parents felt they had done this good deed."

  Danny nodded and leapt forward in the story several steps. "The importers didn't agree."

  She nodded. "They must have worked out who had sold them out and came after my parents. I believe the anonymous evidence came up at trial – it wouldn't have been hard to work out the unnamed informant once that evidence got into the hands of the defense lawyers. The problems escalated from threats to vandalism to an almost daily harassment, although why they are playing this game is beyond my comprehension. It's not straight up revenge or we'd all be dead already. We did as best we could to conceal our whereabouts when we moved here, but I'm afraid they've found us again. When I went over to my house an hour or so ago, there was a note taped to the front door. I presume it's still there. It said You can't run away."

  "Fuck," Danny sighed. "The bastards must not know your connection to Savaggio, at least not yet." He glanced at Mrs. Savaggio. "I've already got Frankie and Gino next door, making sure no one's inside. As soon as they've cleared it, I'll want to take Lucia over and go through the house, to make sure they didn't get in and nothing's missing. Then we'll discuss next steps."

  "My dad is going to freak and try to take us away again," Lucia whispered. "He wants to protect my mom and I, but he doesn't know how, except to move us again."

  "I know how to protect you," Danny said. "And running won't help. As you described it, these people are international, maybe even mobbed up. I'm going to have to find out who they are and determine how best to stop them. But that's getting ahead of the game. For the moment, Frankie will be the on-site coordinator. We'll station a man here in Nonna's house – Nonna, you'll tell me if you prefer Gino or Robbie or if I should ask Jimmy to temporarily re-assign Lanz to the job – and preferably one inside your house, or at least on your front porch. I'll want to install cameras on your porch and at the back, too, that we'll monitor from here and off-site. We already have those here for Nonna's safety but the range of vision won't cover your parents' house. We'll also have two men on the street twenty-four-seven. If anyone comes back and approaches your house, we'll know and at least get photos, although I'd prefer if we caught them and took them into our custody. I'll have Frankie go and meet your parents and escort them home, and we'll assign a pair of guards to drive them."

  Lucia's head spun. She shook it slowly, trying to think what to say.

  Danny's phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at it quickly and spoke again before she could. "Frankie says we're clear. Lucia, let's get your coat and go next door."

  He was on his feet and holding out a hand to her before Lucia could frame a reply. Automatically she put her hand in his and let him help her off the comfortably-worn sofa. His hand was large and heavy, but wrapped around hers with strength and support.

  She trembled, awareness rippling over her in a concussive wave, until it reached her groin and heated her womb. She forgot to breathe. Lucia knew, just knew, that she'd somehow altered her entire future just by that small gesture and the touch of his skin against hers.

  Danny's eyes narrowed as he looked down on her, as though he saw into her soul and knew exactly how she'd reacted to his touch.

  He didn't let go of her hand as he guided her to the front of the house. Mrs. Savaggio followed them. After Danny and his wonderful hands slid her gray wool overcoat over her shoulders and buttoned the front in a strangely intimate gesture, Mrs. Savaggio greeted another man coming in off the front porch, someone she knew who would stay with the woman in Lucia's place. When Danny turned to speak to him, his hand resting on the small of Lucia's back, the older woman turned to her conspiratorially and whispered, "Go on, dear. Don't hurry back. I've never seen Danny look at anyone just like that."

  EXCERPT FROM Los Ángeles Vengadores

  ONE

  She strolled haughtily into the cantiña, unconscious of the patrons that noticed her. Skin tanned to a pale gold, her hair was a telling white blond, so light it was almost platinum. She walked in wearing a backpack and a knee-length dress stretched over the round, tempting curves of her ass, approaching the bar without a care in the world.

  Jesse watched her from the end of the dark, polished board and wondered. He knew instinctively she did not belong in the den. And it truly was a den. The stools, tables and American-style booths in the dim center section were populated with low-level crooks while the more dangerous drug runners and gang barons clung to the dark in their booths along the exterior walls. Drugs and guns were traded openly, in full view of the patrons. There were fights; men were stabbed and shot in the cantiña and the alley behind. This foolish girl, almost assuredly American, stuck out as much as a Cabinet Secretary and her entourage would have done.

  Jesse, on the other hand, blended into the crowd. He dressed in their black snap-down shirts, let his jawline grow permanently scruffy, sunbathed during the daylight hours until he was so dark his skin was almost a native hue, took up the deplorable habit of smoking so thickly that the stale scent felt branded into his skin, drank tequila, and waited.

  He'd been waiting for months, sure that the one named Manuel would return. He intended to wait as long as required. Revenge, and it would be sweet and cold, would be his on the day Manuel appeared.

  Tonight, though, he could watch the blonde. Her hair swung temptingly. He considered her alluring backside, now tauntingly presented as she leaned over the wood to make nice to the bartender. Her skirt pulled as she shifted. The blood rushed from his head, making him lift his eyes and shift on the stool to conceal his reaction.

  Blonde was the wrong color for her, he decided. Her hair should be darker. Not black – but at least brown or dark red.

  The bartender frowned at her disapprovingly, but shrugged and pointed upstairs.

  Without even the glimmer of concern, she straightened and headed for the stairwell.

  Jesse frowned. In the six weeks he'd been slumming among the low life regulars, he hadn't seen anyone pointed out of the main room. Men went upstairs to bed the prostitute who lived above the cantiña but they didn't need directions and, besides, this goddess was hardly going to participate in that disgrace.

  Suppressing a surge of nerves, Jesse tossed cash on the bar and faded into the shadows. In the back hall that led to the office and the alley, he opened a narrow door and slipped up the back stairs.

  She was there, knocking summarily on a door, which opened for her. He waited in the stairwell until she was inside and the door in the dingy corridor slammed shut. Silently he moved along the stained green rug to the door she had entered. There were two others; he suspected one led to the owner's apartment where the bartender and cantiña owner lived. The third door he'd been inside once, at the behest of the hooker – the bartender's sister. He'd bedded her, barely able to hide his distaste, and desperate to use a condom, but it was a rite of passage the other customers noted. Thereafter he was
mostly ignored.

  He knew from the experience that the walls were thin, and the doors thinner. Holding his breath, he pressed close to the door and strained to hear.

  Silence was followed by a loud, mocking male laugh. He waited, but then there was a gunshot. Instinctively Jesse threw open the door and ran in.

  Jesse gaped at the woman's frozen look, the pistol dangling loosely from her fingers. She looked at him sharply and defensively lifted the pistol. He threw up his hands, looked at the body on the floor and scowled.

  "Hurry," he said, his instructions completely at odds with his expression. "The back stairs. I'll get you out of here but we need to leave now." He nodded to the open window. "They'll check the alley before they come up here."

  * * * *

  Bea's eyes widened. The stranger spoke perfect English – American English– and seemed unfazed that she'd just shot a man. It was true that the cretin was more monster than human, but even so–

  "C'mon," he said, grabbing her hand and yanking her along. Taking the pistol from her, he shoved it into his jacket pocket, making her cry out in surprise. "Just come," he repeated, and pulled her from the room.

  They heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs, so he leaped across the corridor, knocked open the door to the opposite apartment with his shoulder and jerked her inside. He slammed it closed, reaching for the cheap slide-bolt to slow their discovery. "Let's go," he said, releasing her hand, "We don't have time to waste. They'll check on the owner's sister first, then him."