Page 1 of Hidden Ties (Made Men #11)
PROLOGUE
A BLUE MOON
F rom the day Sal was born, his mother had told him she knew he had been born special. It had been a full moon the night he’d come into this world, and it only bore significance because there was an old family superstition that every Lastra had been born under one.
It wasn’t until he was around four years old that she mentioned the second part of that story … that every Lastra had also left this world under a full moon.
Why was it that she considered him to be the most special Lastra of all? Because it wasn’t just a full moon he’d been born under.
It’d been a blue moon.
Rare. Unique. Exceptional.
All the things said to those born under one, and his mother swore the old wives’ tale to be true. And since he was an extra special Lastra, who had been born under a blue moon in a special place of Kansas City that was named Blue Park, she said his fate of leaving the Earth would be under one, too.
This was a spectacular story to hear as a boy, and even though he wanted to continue believing the grandness of it, he couldn’t because, well … his mother did drugs.
Yeah, so, special might not be the correct word to describe Blue Park, but maybe more so— hell.
But even though his life was shit, as he spent his existence on and off the streets with her, depending on her addiction, he never begrudged her for the habit.
He understood why she did it as the only way she could cope after working the corner for hours on end to wake up in a dirty motel bed with a different man every morning.
It was to forget. Or to numb. That, at nine years old, he wasn’t yet sure of, as his mother kept him far from the streets after dark.
Every day before a moon could come out, she gave him a couple of bucks just so he could safely stay at a twenty-four-hour Internet café.
He never had the heart to tell her that it didn’t even buy him an hour of use, so he always pocketed the cash and saved it until he could buy them something special to eat that wasn’t from the garbage, or a can, or a bag of fast food.
The owner of the café, Terry, had become a close friend to him. Knowing exactly who his mother was, as Isabella Lastra was known as the town whore, he always offered him a warm place to stay the night in the back.
Terry was who he had gotten his love of computers from, and in return for his kindness, Sal never slept much, helping to clean the café at first then finally learning how to keep every device in there running in tiptop shape.
Any free time with Terry, they spent playing video games or doing his favorite thing … searching the secrets of the world wide web. That was only allowed under special circumstances, like when a customer would come in and break the equipment.
Terry would find out where they worked, lived, and even if they had also done another bad thing, then show up and make them pay for the damages. That went on for a while until two men showed up at the café late one night.
One guy who usually stood toward the back and never spoke always wore a brown leather jacket with fur around the collar. His name was Anthony, and the only reason Sal knew that was from the one time the older one of the two told him it was time to leave.
That one was Lucifer Luciano. Sal never had to be told who he was. Everyone on this side of the tracks knew about him. He was the scariest motherfucker in town, or so everyone always said.
If his mother ever knew Lucifer frequented the café, she would have never let Sal step foot in there again, as she had always warned him to stay far, far away from that man, because he ate little children.
He didn’t. Or, at least, Sal didn’t think he did. The first time he saw Lucifer, he got scared to death he might actually eat him, and it wasn’t the crack his mother took after all that made her say those crazy things until Lucifer shooed him away with the wave of his hand.
It wasn’t until they had left that Terry told Sal that whenever they came in the door, he was to go in the back and stay out of sight. So, every time he saw Anthony’s coat come in the door first, Sal ran to the back like he’d been told before Lucifer could see him again.
He never could help but remember before Lucifer had whisked him away the first time they’d met how deeply he had looked into Sal’s eyes. The black, devilish eyes Lucifer held had bored into his as he asked for his name.
With Sal too frightened he was about to be eaten to answer, Terry had told him, “Salvatore Lastra.”
From that moment on, it was like Lucifer couldn’t look at him, nor stand the sight of him.
Sal got off easy, he supposed, ’cause every now and then, he was able to listen in when their voices rose on the other side of the door.
Terry would most likely have a black eye when he finally could come out after they left, and he always felt bad upon seeing it.
Like it was somehow his fault, even though he knew it not to be true.
It was only when Lucifer asked him to use the web for something Terry didn’t believe was right.
It wasn’t until one day when Terry was distracted that Sal entered Lucifer Luciano’s name on the Internet like he had seen Terry do a bunch of times and found out just how dangerous Lucifer was.
He didn’t know what some of the big words meant that he had been accused of, like racketeering , but one Ask Jeeves search let him find out it was a common thing among criminal organizations.
Being sent down a rabbit hole, he found out the Lucianos were an alleged mafia crime family, which then led him to finding out Kansas City was lucky enough to have not one but two crime families.
The Lucianos and the Carusos.
It was another fateful night on a full moon when Sal finally got to meet a Caruso …
“You sure you don’t want some pizza?”
Sal shook his head back and forth at his friend, trying not to inhale the glorious scent while his stomach growled loudly.
“Your mom’s not here, kid.” Terry held the slice out to him, wanting him so desperately to take it. “She’s not going to know you ate something without her.”
As hard as it was, Sal held strong. It was impossible for him to enjoy a good meal without his mother. He always felt too guilty after, knowing his mom was most likely starving out in the cold right about now.
“No, thanks.”
If he was lucky, Terry wouldn’t finish the pizza, saving at least two slices. Then, and only then, would Sal take the cold pizza when morning came, for him and his mother to enjoy together.
“Suit yourself,” Terry said, taking a bite of the pizza he held out before the little bell over the door could be heard.
A man walked in who Sal didn’t recognize, and for some reason, he knew he wasn’t a customer. Probably because the suit he wore was too fancy for Blue Park. There was no way he belonged here and must’ve been from the other side of the tracks.
“Sal, get to the back,” Terry whispered to him, but it was too late, as the rich-looking man had caught sight of him already.
It was the same look Lucifer had given him when he’d first seen Sal. The look in their eyes as they met his told him they knew a secret that wasn’t held on the web. What that was, Sal couldn’t figure out. For now, at least.
The man’s ice-blue cold gaze held him in place. “Who’s the kid?”
You could tell Terry thought about lying, but despite his mother’s job, Sal was proud of his name.
“Salvatore Lastra,” Sal answered rather proudly, puffing out his chest.
“Nice to meet ya, kid.” A big sneer appeared on the suited man’s lips, making Sal think maybe it was him who ate children, before a firm, tanned hand came out in invitation to shake toward his face from the man. “Dante Caruso.”