The Mafia Manipulation: A Ryker Group Book Read online

  The Mafia Manipulation

  A Ryker Group Book

  S.M. Dapelo

  Wilder Words Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 S.M. Dapelo

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Books By This Author

  1

  I strolled into the coffee place and inhaled the overwhelming aroma of the freshly ground beans. God, is there anything better first thing in the morning? I could hear the murmur of voices above the thick whir of the frothing machine. The day was already sweltering. I’d heard heat can stick around Colorado until November, while you could still get a blizzard in May. My red stilettos tapped on the tile floor as I approached the counter. I hated these shoes, but they set the image I’d need, along with the black wide-legged pants and fitted snowy silk blouse.

  “Hey, Alley,” the pieced college student with blue hair and a ton of face tats behind the long counter stacked with the chrome espresso and frothing machine, greeted me. “The usual?”

  “Yes, please, Tim. One double espresso,” I answered and glanced around. “You’re busy today.”

  “Yeah,” he grimaced. “More suits than usual. Guess they ran out of coffee at the corporate place down the street.”

  I scrunched my nose at him, “Maybe they just discovered this place is better.” But he wasn’t wrong. There were at least five men, all built and wearing different shades of gray or blue suits, milling around with the locals. I felt the hair raise on the back of my neck. “Any idea who they are?” I asked quietly.

  “Probably the Rent-a-Car guys. They always seem to be super fit, and they have a habit of changing meet-up places every couple of months,” he answered and handed me my cup. I felt the quiver in my stomach ease a bit. Besides, I reminded myself, the guys I needed to be on the lookout for only wore black, all the better for hiding blood.

  “Thanks,” I waved at him as I grabbed the cup and spun. I almost ran into the person behind me, a mountainous-sized man, way over six foot tall, in a black fitted suit. His hair was a dark chocolate color, short on the sides, but longer on top. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because he was wearing mirrored sunglasses, and his chin was perfectly chiseled. He was beautiful. Normally I’d give a flirty smile, but the black suit caused me to pause and swallow. Still, there was something vaguely familiar about him, so I gave him a small smile as he returned and went out to the street. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. I must have seen him around town before. For such a big city, this place felt small.

  Old Colorado City was in the heart of Colorado Springs. It was a tourist haven where the first town would have been, back in the Dr. Quinn days. Many galleries and shops lined the main road, including mine. I’d opened my art gallery almost four months ago. Luckily, my brother Dom had provided me with enough cash for a startup and a small house. I showcased quite a few aspiring artists from the local colleges. I’d even made a profit last month. It was only twenty dollars, but it was still in the black. I’d been hoarding all the money he’d transferred to me before his accident, so I’d be able to live until the gallery took off. The Victorian house I bought cost more than I’d wanted to spend, but it was so close and in such good condition I had to nab it.

  I quickly unlocked the gallery door and flipped on the lights. It had an open concept entrance which showed off a few signature pieces. The walls were the original brick, and they were holding several landscape paintings and photos. Colorado did landscapes better than most places. I also had about a half dozen glass pieces on display pedestals.

  I picked up the phone and hit voice mail. I had one message from a professor at the local community college requesting me to be a judge at an art exhibit they were holding. I had a second from an artist begging for a time for him to come show me his portfolio, I hope that wasn’t a euphemism. And then the third. It was just dead air for twenty seconds. I bit my lip, my muscles tensing. Maybe work wasn’t such a great idea. I shook my head, no. It was Monday, nothing ever happens on a Monday. No one would expect me to be here. They’d be searching for me in Sedona, Berkley, or Boulder, not Colorado Springs. They assumed I’d hate it like my mother did for its conservative views. They’d never assume I loved the area and its breathtaking surroundings. I brushed my long sandy blond hair out of my face and shook my head. I had to stop being paranoid.

  I glanced at my computer. Still no response from the gallery in Sedona. They’d had a piece they claimed was a John Constable, but there was no way. It wasn’t even the same style, and the brush strokes were all wrong. It was worse than a forgery, it was a bad forgery. What can I say? Spotting fake artwork was my superpower. I don’t know how I could do it, but I’d never been wrong.

  I wandered out of the office and startled. A man who appeared to be in his early twenties, ebony hair in a mussed style and dark blue eyes, stood there in a navy-blue suit. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you” he said as he smiled and put a hand up. “I was just browsing. I’m still waiting for my party at the coffee shop, and the barista said you had some great glass pieces here.”

  “Oh, yes.” I blew out my tension, “We have a great up-and-coming artist. He’s not Chihuly, but he’s getting there.” I edged over to the display case. “Did you guys change from down the street?” I asked him.

  He nodded, “We heard the caffe espresso was better here.” I was glad my back was to him. He didn’t pronounce it like the Americans expresso. He used the Italian term, caffe espresso like my father’s family. Like my father’s enemies.

  “Well, my assistant should be here soon. Please look around and let me know if you have questions.” I forced a smile and sidled over to the first painting. “Are you looking forward to the game tonight?” I asked. Football was in pre-season, but it’s all anyone talked about.

  “Yeah, but the Chiefs are in Denver, so I doubt they do well. They don’t seem to handle the atmosphere well,” he replied. A chill went down my back.

  I turned to him with a fake smile, “You know, if you’re interested in this glass work, I have some more from a different artist in the back. Give me one moment. I was just about to unpack them.” I twirled to walk into the back room.

  “Sure. I’ll wait right here, Alessandra,” he answered. My stomach felt like a rock, I used Alley on all my business cards. Even the front door said Proprietor: Alley Miller. I scrambled into the back room, shut, and locked the door, and removed my shoes. Then I moved to the rear exit that led into an alley behind the store. Alley was escaping into the alley. I tried not to giggle. My sense of humor came out at the worst times.

  I burst through the door and skirted into the alley when my wrist was grabbed, and I was swung around. The man in the black suit from the earlier
stood there. “Buongiorno, Alessandra. Ti stavo aspettando.”

  I squeaked and tried to pull away, but was swung again, my back smacking into the back of the building. The hand never left my wrist, and the hulk stepped into my personal space, his other hand covering my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I stared up into his deep green eyes. Of course, even his eyes were pretty. “You can put your shoes back on, get into my car, and come quietly. Or I can drug you with the syringe in my pocket. Your choice, bella,” he whispered into my ear. He slowly removed his hand.

  “I think you’re confused,” I said in a shrill voice, my chest tightening. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “Your name is Alessandra Diana Miller Amato. Your father is Cosmo Amato, your mother was his mistress Jennifer Miller.”

  “Mistress is harsh. They haven’t been together since I was conceived,” I muttered.

  “None the less, you are his illegitimate daughter, born twenty-three years ago. You have a degree in commercial art, and six months ago you ran from Kansas City two days before your brother Dominic, Cosmo’s legitimate child, was killed in a drive-by,” he continued.

  “I didn’t kill him,” I cried as I pulled at my arm.

  His hard face softened, “No one assumes you did, cara, but your father wants you, and us bringing you back is the only way to halt an all-out war.” His face went to stone, “Like it or not, you’re going home,” he spun on his heels and pulled me behind him.

  I pulled back, “Let me get my shoes on. There’s gravel.”

  “Twenty seconds.” He released my hand just as the man who had been waiting in the gallery burst through the door. “She doesn’t go by Alessandra, Feddi. She goes by Alley. You gave yourself away.” He didn’t even glance at the man. “Doesn’t help to wear a blue suit to make her feel you’re non threatening if you use her name the first time you meet her.”

  “Sorry, Luc,” Feddi muttered.

  “He studied all this color theory and decided he should wear navy because black might make him appear intimidating,” Luc said to me.

  “Then why are you wearing it?” I finished with my shoes, trying to take a steady breath.

  He smirked, “Because I don’t misrepresent what I am, and I’m dangerous.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward a black Ferrari. He nudged me in the passenger’s seat then, before releasing my hand, had a handcuff attached to it and the car door.

  “What’s this?” I almost screamed, pulling at it.

  “Hush or you sleep,” he sang out as he prowled around to the driver’s side. “Feddi, lock up the shop, then deal with the house.” Feddi waved us away and walked back into the gallery.

  “You can’t close it.” I yanked at the handcuffs again, “I have clients.”

  “You’re not seeing where this is going,” Luca’s lips thinned. He started the car and raced through the streets. In twenty minutes, we were pulling up to the airport, but going around the primary areas to a private strip.

  “I can pay you. I understand my father might have offered you money, but I still have more than a million stashed away,” I argued as my pulse pounded.

  “No,” he said as he got out and slipped around to my side. He stretched in and unlocked the handcuff on my wrist, then pulled me out, grabbed me by my biceps and stared at me. “What part of you going home diverts a mob war, don’t you understand? This isn’t about money, it’s about lives.” He let go of my arms and grabbed my hand, dragged me up the stairs to the private plane and pulled out a phone. “Do you have everything set up?” he grilled whoever was on the other line. “Good. We’ll see you there.” He hung up the phone. “Sit,” he pointed at a chair. I glanced around, searching for a way out. He huffed out a breath and forced me into a seat. “I don’t understand what you’re afraid of,” he sat next to me, “Everyone knows you ran because Dom told you to. He was scrutinizing some discrepancies of a Westport business. He admitted as much to your father hours before the accident.”

  “How did Cosmo take it?” I asked.

  “Not well, from what I heard. Even worse after your brother’s incident. He had his men searching for you for months with no leads.” He fastened his seatbelt and indicated I should do the same. I glanced around for a moment, then did as he suggested.

  We took off a few moments later. Eventually, a flight attendant drifted over, “Mr. Romano, do you or your companion desire anything?”

  I could feel the blood drain from my face and my breathing increase. I bolted, forgetting I still had a seatbelt on, and nowhere to go. The man grabbed my hand, “We’ll treat ourselves, thanks. Why don’t you go into the cabin with the pilot? We have some sensitive matters we need to attend to.”

  I tried to pull my hand away, “Romano? Like Marco Romano. The head of the family that killed Dom?” I was still pulling at the seatbelt.

  Luke pulled his seatbelt off and got up, leaned over, trapping me in my seat with his arms. “No. Like Luca Romano. Second in the Romano family. Brother of Marco Romano. And we most certainly did NOT kill your brother.”

  “The papers said…”

  “Newspapers are often wrong. Especially when it is our types of business. It’s not like we give interviews,” he growled at me. “Your father gave my brother an offer when his men couldn’t find you. An offer of peace. Something my brother couldn’t ignore. All we had to do was find you before the special mass being held for your brother. So, he sent me, and I found you in a week.” He growled as he realized I was hyperventilating. “Alley, you need to hush.” The tears were starting. He grabbed my chin and forced me to focus on him, “I will not hurt you. I’m here to protect you. Now breathe, or I’m putting you to sleep. I don’t do weeping women.”

  I took a few breaths as his hand held my face. His eyes were subdued, not angry. I took a few breaths and wrapped my arms around myself. “So, you bring me to this mass, then I go home?”

  “You need to speak to your father. There’s a lot going on,” he said as he let out a breath. “Let’s get you a drink. We’ll arrive at the hiding place in a few hours.”

  “Why aren’t you taking me straight to my father’s?” I asked.

  “Because he won’t be in town until right before the service. Unless you fancy staying with your step-mother?”

  “I can stay with my mother,” I viewed out the window.

  Luke made a face, “No, you can’t. She’s staying at your dad’s right now. Long story, you’ll have to get it from her.” He stared into my eyes, “You know, you need to learn to trust your family. In the end, they’re all you have. If you don’t have them, you’re alone.”

  I leaned back, “So you won’t kill me?”

  “No.” He relaxed into his seat, satisfied with my calmer demeanor. “I am, however, going to be your personal bodyguard for the time being, until your father says otherwise. It’s an agreement between my brother and him.”

  “You’re fine with this?” I asked as he sat.

  “More and more by the moment,” he smirked, taking out his phone and tuning me out as he started tapping at it.

  “Who do you think killed my brother?” I asked him, watching the clouds out the window, trying to plan an escape. I don’t care what he said, I was leaving as soon as I could.

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Luc deposited his phone back in his pocket and sat back. “The police haven’t been working it, and we don’t have all their information .”

  “I’m stunned my father hasn’t insisted on it. He knows a lot of politicians,” I bit at a nail.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled it away from my mouth, “He’s tried, but he’s been worried about you, so it hasn’t been his focus. That’s why he made the offer to our family after he realized we weren’t behind the hit.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, “How was he sure of that?”

  “It took a lot of convincing.” He kept looking at me, “The quick answer is; drive-by shootings aren’t our way. That and the fact someone went after me three w
eeks later.”

  My mouth fell open, “What?”

  “Attempted drive by; the same model of car, same time of day,” he gave a blank gaze.

  “They missed?” Stupid question. Obviously they missed.

  “I realized something was wrong and wasn’t alone. My men are experienced. They recognized what was going on and took protective measures.” He stared at me. “I’m sorry, but your brother had the wrong people with him. That’s why they all died.”

  I sat back, “I don’t understand.”

  “Your brother’s men were newer. Less than two years in the field. They came from Italy, which can be ruthless, but didn’t know the area. My men have been with us for over five years each. All of them came from either a military or police background. They noticed the car the moment it turned the corner.” He gazed ahead, “We were already on alert because of Dominic.”

  “Did you get them,” my voice wavered.

  His lips went into a straight line, “No, they disappeared before we could trace them. I had a minimal crew, so it took too long to organize.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I started.

  He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, “But you don’t.”

  “I don’t know you,” I bit at my thumbnail. “I want to talk to the police. See what they’ve discovered.”

  “I understand. I’ll take you when we get back.” He firmed his jaw, then got up and kneeled in front of me. “Where we’re going is a secret location…” he started.

  “What do you mean?” I asked as my lip started quivering again. Secret location meant killing me and my body never being found.

  “Nope. I warned you about the crying.” he grabbed my chin with one hand, his eyes on me, “I would have you wear a blindfold, but this is more effective.” I felt a jabbing pain in my leg. He stared into my eyes as the drug took effect. Then he sat and tucked me into his side as the world went black.