Page 4 of Hidden Ties (Made Men #11)

THREE

MISTER FUCKING ROGERS

“’ S up Sal?”

Inwardly, Sal groaned. Buying what he thought was a peaceful house, on a peaceful street, in a peaceful neighborhood was starting to become not such a good idea.

He should have known his neighbors on Prairie Drive would eventually become nosy as hell.

It was why he had bought this house in the first place.

His vacancy on the top floor of the Casino Hotel was feeling a bit crowded over the last few years, and his privacy was becoming nonexistent.

Almost hitting your thirties would do that to you, he supposed.

He had thought going from an apartment to a house where no one knew him would be better, but the young woman next door was making it not so by becoming a pain in his ass.

Joining the Caruso family at thirteen years old, and then the family business by eighteen gave him no privacy.

There simply wasn’t any when all the members of the mafioso crime family lived on the top floor of the family business.

Not to mention Sal barely got any time off over the last few years, holding one of the most important jobs by being head of security of the Casino Hotel.

And it wasn’t the only thing he was known for these days …

“The Great Salvatore” was a title he was coming more and more known by online.

At first, he was only known by every geek, freak, and nerd, but now his hacking abilities were even becoming legend by those who could barely remember their password to login to their email.

He was so good, it made him untouchable.

To be completely known by your hidden identity while also barely hiding your real identity was an art in itself.

Simply, there was no one better who could catch him.

Well, as of yet, and that was how he got away with it.

“How ya been?”

Fuck. Her grating voice made him stop in place.

He tried his best at a friendly neighborly tone with “fine,” but it was obvious by her response that he wasn’t exactly Mister fucking Rogers.

“I’m good, in case you wanted to know.”

Her false placated smile wasn’t missed. His neighbor liked him about as much as he liked her, which he would never understand.

Wasn’t he the perfect neighbor? Sal was hardly around due to his job’s demands, only able to stop by for a weekend every other week or so. His yard was kept neat, and he never bothered them. What was there not to like? Hell, he wished he had himself as a neighbor. So, what was her fucking issue?

Tilting his glasses down to look at her over the frames, he watched her struggle with the groceries that she was attempting to bring in with a hint of satisfaction. “Glad to hear it.”

As he watched her struggle to make her way inside, the bags full of MoonPies and TV dinners didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, there was a lot that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Sal figured she thought he had no clue who she was, but he knew Valerie Monroe. He knew every neighbor on this godforsaken street before he’d even moved in.

On paper, this neighborhood was a dream.

He should’ve known it was a pipe one when he was stupidly ecstatic for his privacy when someone had mentioned it had gone to market.

No one on this street had any family connections, let alone so much as a speeding ticket, but what he didn’t account for was their nosiness when he had signed on the dotted line.

Going into his own house, he took a nice, deep calming breath, grateful to finally be away from watchful eyes, at least from the people who knew him.

He figured he should be grateful for that, because there was no way Valerie knew he was a part of the Caruso mafia family.

If she did, she wouldn’t be so blatantly staring at his house all night over her computer screen.

Turning on the small lamp set on a table in front of the closed blinds, he removed his jacket, tie, and dress shirt to reveal his sleeveless white undershirt, making himself more comfortable before he went to make something to eat.

To his distaste, his and Valerie’s diets were much alike when he was in the neighborhood for the weekend.

TV dinners were the only thing he bothered to stock, as they didn’t go rotten while he was away from his home.

When he finished the Amy’s frozen meal, he wished he had a MoonPie right about now.

Smirking at the thought of passing the stage of asking for milk and going straight to asking for a MoonPie from his aggravating neighbor made him imagine the shock on her face.

However, it quickly vanished from his mind when there was a knock on his door.

Not bothering to see who was on the other side through the peephole, he expertly opened it so prying eyes couldn’t view him before he snapped the door shut.

“Hi, Sal,” the woman crooned upon seeing him. “I was wondering if you were ever going to give me a call.”

Suddenly, it was like having a cat in heat step into his house. “Sorry, Samantha, I’ve been busy.”

“How come I haven’t seen you in the Underground recently?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck so he could get an eyeful of her tits.

He decided on telling her the truth; it was no secret why he was no longer allowed to step foot in the illegal casino set above the legal one in the Casino Hotel. “Boss won’t let me.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She smiled seductively, going for the belt at his waist. “I hear you’re a very bad boy who likes to count the cards.”

Watching the hot cocktail waitress from the Underground seductively pull his long belt free until she backed up in front of the lamped window, Sal stalked in front of her until his lips hovered over hers. “How about we take this into the bedroom?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She smiled before going in for a kiss.

But before her lips could touch his, he flipped the light switch off on the lamp, knowing the wandering eyes next door would go rampant throughout the night.

And he would let them …

“Sal! Sal!”

The hit to his shoulder, along with his screeching name, had his eyes opening to the flashing red and blue lights. Quickly, he got to his feet to peek out the darkened bedroom window. He couldn’t see much, as his bedroom was on the opposite side of the house to Valerie’s, but he could see enough.

“I think you’re about to be arrested!” she cried nervously through tears.

“What?” Sal looked back at her like she was crazy. “No, I’m not.”

It would be a cold day in hell before any Caruso ever got locked up behind bars in Kansas City.

“Oh my God.” Samantha stood up to hurriedly grab her things in the dark. “I’m getting arrested!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

The poor woman wasn’t bright. When they’d made it back to the bedroom last night, he had quickly remembered why he had put off calling her.

“No, you’re not. Just stay put,” he ordered before she could run out the back door.

That was the last thing he fucking needed for his neighbors to talk about, knowing everyone on the street was up, looking out their windows like he was.

Oh shitttt.

Still half-asleep, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, not knowing if he was dreaming or not when he watched the snooping Jane being arrested.

Before Sal knew it, he was in his dress pants, undershirt, and shoes and stumbled to the living room to turn on the lamp, then moved to his front door; he just couldn’t help himself …

He put on his glasses. It was time for him to play the nosy neighbor.

Payback’s a bitch.