Page 38 of A Touch of Fate

“I’m a Made Man, Leo. My sins are various,” a deep male voice said from the doorway to what I assumed was a kitchen, judging by the microwave and coffee maker I spotted behind him when I turned.

He was a tall and broad man, perhaps in his late twenties.

He looked a little rugged with a short beard and disheveled brown hair.

He came toward us with a thermos in one hand and four mugs dangling by their handles from his other.

His gait was the slightest bit uneven as if one of his legs was shorter than the other.

He set down everything on the table before he tilted his head in greeting.

“Mrs. Mione. We’ve heard a lot about you. ”

Leo gave him a harsh look, then pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. He obviously had no intention of giving us privacy. I didn’t want to discuss the matter in front of the two other men. Later, there would be time to ask him for a little distance.

“It’s Emma,” I said with a small smile up at Geno. “The same goes for you, Priest Agnellus. And I assume everything you heard was positive.” I made a face that clearly showed I knew that wasn’t the case.

Geno removed one of the chairs so I could slide closer to the table, and I did. “I don’t have to tell you how our world sees us.”

Geno sank down to my left but with a chair between us. Priest Agnellus took the seat across from us.

I wondered what exactly Geno’s disability was, as it wasn’t immediately apparent.

Geno pulled up his jeans leg, revealing a prosthesis up to his thigh. The knee prosthesis gleamed in the halogen lights above our heads, but the rest was black. “I got trapped under debris after the Camorra blew up one of our nightclubs five years ago. Lost a leg and hearing in my left ear.”

“And you decided to help others with disabilities?” I asked.

Geno lifted a mug with a questioning expression.

“Yes, please.”

He poured the steaming hot black coffee into my mug, then handed it to me. “For almost two years now. During the first three years, Priest Agnellus helped me.”

“He’s still a Made Man. Has been back to work for a year now.”

Geno narrowed his eyes at Leo. “For eighteen months. But I was a Made Man before that too. All the men who we help are still Made Men, even if they aren’t active. The only way to leave the Outfit is by death or betrayal.”

Leo shrugged. “Of course.”

I glanced between the two, sensing a certain dislike.

“What do you do for the Outfit?”

Geno regarded me carefully. “I’m one of your husband’s and father-in-law’s enforcers.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised that he showed kindness by helping other Made Men with disabilities but, at the same time, tortured people.

“You atone for your sins,” the priest said.

Doubt filled Geno’s face, but he didn’t voice it.

“How do you usually help? And what can I do?”

“We have an open meeting twice a week. We also do house visits for those who don’t feel well enough to venture out,” Priest Agnellus said.

“How many come to the meetings?”

Geno took a sip from his coffee and shrugged. “The outcome depends. Sometimes we’re only a handful. Sometimes almost two dozen.”

“I’d love to be part of a meeting one day if the others don’t mind.”

“Actually,” Priest Agnellus looked caught as he exchanged a look with Geno.

“We have a meeting in fifteen minutes. We were hoping to attract many with your presence.”

Leo glowered. “You should have made me aware beforehand. More people means we need additional protection.”

Geno pulled back the leather jacket he was wearing, revealing two glocks. “I’m capable of defending her too, but I can assure you that the men coming here today have enough problems. They don’t need the prospect of a brutal death at Samuel’s hand.”

“Maybe they’re hoping for a bullet to the head from me to end their misery. Suicide is still sin,” Leo growled.

I slammed my hand on the table, surprising myself and the men beside me. My eyes were wide in shock over my outburst, but I narrowed them at Leo. “I appreciate your concern, but that was a very cruel thing to say. I can assure you my life isn’t miserable, and neither is theirs.”

“I’m sorry, but your situation is very different. Many Made Men don’t see themselves as men once they aren’t active,” Leo said, tilting his head in apology.

Geno leaned back in his chair with a dark look. “He’s right. The suicide rate for Made Men with grave disabilities is high. Nothing’s worse than being regarded as half a man or a burden.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to argue, but I knew he was only stating facts. “I hope I can change how some men see themselves.”

“I do too,” Geno said honestly. He nodded toward the front door. “Here comes one of them.”

Leo got up, causing Geno to let out an amused snort.

A tall teenage boy entered the center with a muscled man in his forties. They looked like father and son. My first instinct was to look at the older man, but his demeanor was too confident as if he thought this was a waste of time. My gaze settled on the tall, dark blond boy.

The father nudged the boy’s shoulder hard, so he looked up at him, then he spoke very slowly and clearly. “I won’t have time to pick you up. Take a taxi.” The boy gave a terse nod, then his eyes darted to us.

“Fiorentino, fifteen. Born deaf. His father is Captain.”

I had gathered that the boy was hard of hearing, but I wondered why the father didn’t sign with him. Both strode toward me after the father gave a nod toward Leo.

“Mrs. Mione,” the father said with a small bow of his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded toward his son. “This is my son, Fiorentino. He can’t hear.”

I smiled at both of them, then began to sign to the boy. His eyes keenly followed my hands. He definitely knew how to read sign language. But he didn’t reply, only glanced at his father. “I don’t like it when he signs. It makes him look like an imbecile.”

“That’s a very rude name to call your son. It’s just a form of communication.”

He gave me a tight smile that made it clear he didn’t agree.

“You can’t sign?” I inquired after a moment of strained silence.

“No,” he clipped. He glanced at his watch. “I need to leave.” He leveled his gaze on his son. “Act as if you were a Made Man. Don’t embarrass me.”

The boy nodded again. He didn’t relax until his father was outside.

“You aren’t a Made Man yet?” I signed and said for Geno’s and the priest’s benefit.

The boy looked at Geno, who nodded.

“My father doesn’t want me to become a Made Man because I’m not of value to the cause.”

I frowned. “That’s horrible.”

“Fiorentino has five younger sisters, and his mother is pregnant with the sixth,” Geno said.

“To produce an heir who can become Captain?”

Fiorentino nodded, his expression shut off.

He regarded me with the hope that I could help him.

But what could I possibly do? By now, more men were filing in, all of them older than Fiorentino, some old enough to be my grandfather.

I greeted them all, and eventually, they settled on the chairs around the table or took a seat in front of the TV.

Five men were wheelchair users. Others had lost their sight, their arms or hands, foot or leg, and one had obviously suffered a serious injury to his head judging by the scar that ran across his skull.

I talked to a few who seemed open to a conversation and eventually stopped by Fiorentino’s side, who was talking to Geno.

They weren’t signing, and I noticed that the boy had put in hearing aids.

When I stopped beside them, they fell silent.

“Should we sign, or would you like to continue like this?”

“I’m not very good at signing,” Geno said with an embarrassed smile.

“Oh. All right. Should I sign and talk?” I asked Fiorentino.

He shook his head. “Just talk. I can hear you if you don’t talk too quietly.”

“Why didn’t you wear the hearing aid before? You wouldn’t have to read your father’s lips if you did.”

“My father sees it as a sign of weakness. He doesn’t want me to wear it in public. He prefers me to be silent and invisible.”

I had to stifle a rude comment about his father. “Because your speech is slightly impaired?”

Fiorentino gave a tense nod.

“He should be proud of you,” I said finally.

“Fiorentino wants to become a Made Man,” Geno said.

“Have you talked to my husband or father-in-law?”

Fiorentino shook his head. “My father would see it as a betrayal. He doesn’t want me to become a Made Man because I can’t do anything.”

I scanned the boy. He was tall, and he looked fit.

“I taught him how to fight. I still do. His father is okay with that so he can protect himself.”

“I could talk to my husband. Is there anything you’re particularly good at?”

“I’m good with computers. Hacking, coding, security systems.”

“That sounds promising,” I said, then fixed him with a stern look. “Are you sure you want to become a Made Man? Right now, you’re free.”

Fiorentino’s expression turned fierce. “I want to be part of the Outfit, nothing else.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”