Made Man Dante

  Made Man Dante

  A Mafia Romance

  by

  Liliana Rhodes

  Liliana’s Amazon Author Page

  His Every Whim Series

  Billionaire Romance

  His Every Whim, Part 1 (FREE!)

  His One Desire, Part 2

  His Simple Wish, Part 3

  His True Fortune, Part 4

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  Mafia Romance

  Soldier

  Capo

  Boss

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  Charming the Alpha

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  Needing the Alpha

  The Crane Curse Trilogy Boxed Set

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  Wolf at Her Door

  About Made Man Dante

  Protecting her was like breathing, I didn’t have a choice.

  Dante: It was a simple job–watch this asshole and make sure he doesn’t get killed. Normally I was the one doing the killing, but this was for family and my family, the Gambinos, gave the orders. But then she rose like an angel out of the subway and changed my life. She awakened me, made me whole again, and erased the pain of my past. She’s in danger and I will do anything to keep her safe. Even if that means the one thing that will push her away forever–kill her brother.

  Gia: I was a good girl, almost a nun. I spent my life doing what everyone else wanted, but then I met him. He’s a killer, a hitman, and my protector. While loving him could cost me my family, leaving him would cost me my life. But he’ll do anything for me and protect me at all costs, even if it means doing the one thing he vowed to never do–become a Mafia Boss.

  Made Man Dante is the novelized boxed set of the Made Man Trilogy serial–Soldier, Capo, and Boss.

  Made Man Dante

  Copyright © 2014 by Jaded Speck Publishing

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Soldier

  CHAPTER ONE

  Gia

  I felt numb as I entered the wood paneled office. Nothing mattered anymore, and I was ready to hear it. Sister Maureen sat at her desk and motioned for me to sit on one of the two armchairs in front of her, but I opted to stand. I could handle this. I didn’t need to sit. I knew what she had to tell me.

  “Gia,” she said, her voice husky from years of sneaking cigarettes, “I really wish you’d sit.”

  Sister Maureen’s wavy grey hair bobbed as she spoke. The peach sweater she wore popped against the dullness of the room. I wasn’t going to sit. I had been bracing myself for this for years.

  “Just say it,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “I’m sorry, I wish I had better words,” she said before pausing for a moment. Her kind eyes wrinkled behind her glasses. “Your mother passed away last night in her sleep. She’s with God now.”

  Cold rushed through my body and my knees wobbled. I fell into a nearby chair from the weight of her words. My reaction surprised me. I always thought I was ready for my mother’s passing, but the reality of it was too much.

  Looking around the small office that smelled like moth balls and stale coffee, I found myself surrounded by fog. The fog was comforting and familiar. I took a deep breath and stood as I rubbed the arms of my navy cardigan, my legs still shaky.

  “Thank you, Sister. I’ll be in my room packing.”

  “Take your time at home, dear. We’re here if you need anything.”

  I had been in a fog my entire life. As I collected my belongings to head home, I looked around the small, sparsely furnished room with the wooden cross over the door. It wasn’t much different than a dorm room, except I never went to any of the usual college parties. There weren’t any. I was in a convent.

  Picking up the white leather bible my mother gave me when I joined All Saint’s Convent four years ago after I graduated high school, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked back up at the cross. Something was different. The fog wasn’t as thick.

  “Why now?” I asked. “Haven’t I been devoted enough? Is it because she’s gone?”

  He didn’t need to answer. Something had been holding me back for years from taking that final step. I wished I knew what it was, but there was always too much fog for me to see clearly.

  Stroking the book’s soft cover, I smiled, thinking of the look of pride my mother got whenever she told someone I was going to be a nun. It made her so happy, I wanted it to make me happy, too. And it did, especially when she was around.

  Growing up, it was all I ever wanted. I loved Catholic school. I loved everything about the Church. I wanted so desperately to hear that calling only select women heard. I thought of them as chosen and special. Looking back, I convinced myself I heard it. But maybe there was something else calling in the fog.

  My mother was in her forties when she had me. She called me her gift from God, and all I ever wanted to do was make her happy. No matter what.

  She had been sickly and feeble for years. It hurt to see her so withered and drained as she waited for God to call her from her life. Today she wasn’t in pain anymore, and that brought me relief.

  As I finished packing, the fog lifted and for the first time, I looked around and saw clearly. The sun was bright on the horizon and while my heart was heavy with grief, I was ready to start a new life.

  “Goodbye, All Saint’s,” I whispered as I closed the door behind me.

  ***

  I was lucky enough to get a window seat on the Amtrak train from Baltimore to New York. Not that there was much to look at, but I always enjoyed looking at the passing scenery. In the glass’s reflection, I didn’t recognize the sad oval face framed by dark brown hair staring back at me.

  I missed my mom terribly. She pushed me to go away when I wanted to be near her. The rest of the family didn’t agree. They believed since I was the youngest that I should stay and care for her. Momma had other plans though, and I loved her more for it.

  Noticing my cell phone had a signal, I sent a quick text to my brother Terry. At ten years older than me, he was the closest to my age of my brothers and sisters. He had recently moved back home after his wife, Gabby, left him. I hoped he was around to meet me at the subway stop near the house.

  The subway would take another forty minutes with all its stops. After two and a half hours on the train I was ready for a break, but I just wanted to get home so I rushed from my train to the subway platforms. Using my wide hips, I pushed through the crowds at Penn Station with my luggage, grateful for the extra padding on my body to help me bump slower people out of the way.

  The mixture of beauty and filth at Penn Station from the marble floors down to the cement platforms was exactly as I remembered. The steam from the subway made the platforms humid and dank. The cold lighting made everything seem gritty and more real. Would my fog have cleared faster had I stayed in New York? It didn’t matter. What mattered was I was going to do things for me now.

  Checking my phone, I sighed, see
ing that Terry never replied to my texts. I’d have to carry my luggage up the stairs of the subway by myself. It didn’t surprise me.

  When the train reached my stop, I was on my feet waiting for the doors to open. I was the only one who got off, and I was glad to not feel that pressure from other people to climb the steep steps to the outside world quickly. Dragging my roller bag behind me, I balanced as many bags as I could on it as I yanked it up the steps one by one.

  I really didn’t have much stuff, but my bags were heavy from all my books. I was never the kind of girl who cared much for clothing and after four years at a convent, I was horribly out of touch with any styles. But as long as I had my books with me, I was happy.

  Finally reaching the top of the steps, I took a deep breath and looked around. The subway left me at the corner of my block and the main street that cut through the city. I lived on a one way street of mostly brownstones in one of the oldest neighborhoods.

  My mother and father both had stories about immigrating to the US as children. This neighborhood was all they ever knew. Momma especially was popular, and everyone knew of the Carlisi family because of Momma. No one ever called her by her first name, Francesca.

  After reorganizing my bags once more, I started my way over the uneven sidewalk to my home. It was midway up the block across from a small apartment building that stood where several brownstones mysteriously caught fire one night. Brooklyn was full of tragedies like that that were never solved.

  Opening the small wrought iron gate, I admired the rose bushes Mr. Sabatino from next door took care of for Momma after she fell ill. As I stopped in front of the steps, I sighed before beginning the one step at a time climb with my luggage. Terry was going to pay for this!

  As I entered the house I smiled, smelling the familiar scent of garlic and tomato sauce. No matter how sick or weak Momma had gotten, she always had a sauce going. If she couldn’t cook, she would order whoever was around to do it.

  I left my bags in the hall in front of the stairs leading to the second level and entered the living room. Terry was passed out on the couch with the TV on. I turned the TV off and then kicked his outstretched feet.

  “Get up!” I said. “Is this how Momma raised you? You can’t even help your little sister?”

  Terry looked thin and his dark hair was black and oily. His clothing were wrinkled as if he’d been sleeping in them for days. He stretched, blinked at me, and smiled.

  “Gianna! Welcome home!” he said as he stood and stumbled then quickly sat back down again as he held his head.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing, I’m good. Just haven’t been sleeping much.”

  “I know you weren’t taking care of Momma, the nurse sent me her bills. What’s going on?”

  I couldn’t believe this was my brother. Terry had always been the smart one. The one everyone thought would go places. But that was until Gabby left him. Everything fell apart for him after that.

  “Nothing, Gianna, nothing,” he said as he looked around.

  “Don’t call me that. You know only Momma called me Gianna. Have you started the funeral plans?”

  “Funeral? No. We can’t have one. It’s too dangerous. Too many people. Too much money.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course we’re having a funeral. And a wake, too. People want to pay their last respects.”

  “No. No, can’t do it,” he said as he jittered nervously.

  “Terry,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic, “what aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m in trouble, Gia. Big trouble.” He shook his head then buried his face in his hands. “And now that Momma’s gone, that’s it for me. I’m a goner, Gia.” He walked to the window and looked outside. “They’re out there. I know they are. They’re watching. They’ve been waiting.”

  “Who?”

  Terry backed away from the window as a car drove past. He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and then wiped his hands on his shirt. He was pale and trembling. I had to fight the urge to slap him. Whatever trouble he was in, it was guaranteed to be his fault.

  “I gotta go,” he said as he looked outside again. “Don’t let anyone in.”

  He raced out of the living room and into the hall. I heard my bags fall onto the floor as the door slammed shut. It was for the best he was gone. It gave me time to make the funeral plans for Momma.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dante

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She arrived late one afternoon while I was still keeping an eye on Terry Carlisi. When I first spotted her, she was ascending from the depths of the subway, like an angel rising from hell.

  She was a healthy girl, with a glow to her skin that was mesmerizing. Her long, dark hair whipped around her makeup-less oval face as she dragged a roller bag behind her, a small duffel bag hanging from her shoulder. A woman like that should never have to carry her own bags.

  Wearing a long skirt and a navy sweater that was too large for her, I wondered why such a beauty would hide herself. As I grabbed my scope off my sniper rifle, I leaned against the window sill and watched her. She couldn’t see me. No one ever saw me.

  My reputation was why I was assigned to keep an eye on Terry. Asshole had finally gotten himself into some deep shit. Begging the Gambinos for protection was the smartest thing he ever did. I would know, I grew up with him.

  But I grew up with a lot of people in Brooklyn. Now so many others had moved in and others had moved on, no one knew whose toes they were stepping on. It was my job to make sure those who did the stepping continued and those who didn’t approve were dealt with. At whatever cost.

  Leaning further towards the window, I zoomed in on her more. She was curvy and thick, exactly what I liked. My cock saluted its approval by pushing against my zipper. She looked nothing like the other women in town, the ones who threw themselves at men without any self respect.

  But who was she? For the past four months, I had been holed up in this tiny apartment with its ugly yellow wallpaper. That’s how long I had been keeping an eye on Terry Carlisi. If she had been around before, I’d remember. I never forgot details, especially when it came to beautiful women. When she opened the gate to the Carlisis, I did a double take to make sure I had the right house even though I never made mistakes like that.

  Tapping my untraceable cell phone, I hit the button for Robert, my Capo, as I kept an eye on the woman. I waited for Terry to come out of the house to help her with her bags, but he didn’t. I would’ve been surprised if that worthless piece of shit did anything to help someone other than himself.

  “Speak,” Robert answered with his usual greeting.

  “It’s me,” I said. “Momma Carlisi died last night. A visitor arrived today. A woman.”

  “Probably her youngest. The nun. With the mother gone, your duty is done. That was the deal.”

  Nun? What a cruel world we lived in that a saintly woman with curves like that would give me such lustful thoughts.

  “What about the girl?” I asked. “The Lords of Vengeance don’t believe in respect.”

  “She’s not our concern. Pack your things and go. Terry’s on his own now.”

  I hung up, feeling uneasy. A day before I would’ve been happy to leave this shithole of an apartment, but things were different now. I felt protective over the girl.

  The Gambinos rarely dealt with local street gangs, it was beneath them. It was only because of Momma Carlisi’s standing and reputation in the community that I was ordered to protect her son until her death.

  A louse like him practically deserved to die. This beautiful girl, the nun, didn’t deserve whatever the Lords of Vengeance would do to her. She needed protection. I didn’t care if it was against orders, I was going to stay and make sure she was safe.

  ***

  Three days had passed since Momma Carlisi died. Days before, I found out my angel’s name was Gia. Each day I waited anxiously for any glimpse or sign of her and was rewarded at least once a
day when she would step outside and cut a rose from the bushes that lined the gate. It didn’t matter to me that she was a nun. Even without that, she was too good for me.

  People came and went from her house, but there wasn’t a sign of the Lords of Vengeance anywhere. Apparently they did have some respect. After the funeral, family and friends stopped by the house to pay their final respects.

  I slipped my Bluetooth into my ear. When I first started protecting Terry, I bugged and made minor alterations throughout the house. I needed to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into more trouble and to take care of things if he was.

  The bug was about the size of a thumbnail. It recorded conversation and sent the data in quick random bursts, making it virtually undetectable. After a few clicks on my laptop, I zoned in on the living room.

  There were too many conversations going on at once. I didn’t care what people were talking about, I wanted to hear her voice. Grabbing my trusty scope again, I peered into the living room windows of the Carlisi house.

  Guests moved throughout the house, most with platefuls of food. As I patiently waited, I finally got a glimpse of my angel. She was dressed all in black with a sorrowful look on her face that melted my heart.

  In one swift move I set my scope down, closed the laptop, and stood to retrieve my tie. It didn’t matter who you were in the Gambino family, you were always nicely dressed. I regularly wore pressed wool slacks with a crisp white button-down shirt. The tie I kept on hand for when I needed to be out in the public.

  After tying a Windsor knot around my neck, I grabbed my sports coat and exited the apartment. In minutes I was opening the decorative gate in front of the Carlisi home and entering the house.

  Terry spotted me immediately, whispered something to his sister, and vanished to the back of the house. I didn’t care what he did. He wasn’t my problem anymore.

  Gia sat in the middle of an old floral velvet couch. The tiny flowers framed her simple black dress, making her look lovelier. With her feet crossed at the ankles she looked sweet and pure, exactly like the person who had nothing to do with someone like me. Seeing her alone except for the occasional person who kissed her cheek and spoke their condolences, I crossed the room to pay my respects.