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Chapter Eight

“ Oh , Mister Franco !” Chita gasped as Franco’s hips slapped against the woman’s ass cheeks.

The petite maid grunted as he continued rocking into her, making the cans and tools on the wooden workbench rattle.

Franco squeezed Chita’s full breasts beneath her maid’s uniform, breathing against her neck and inhaling whatever that thick scent was that she wore. The smell reminded him of air freshener. If she wasn’t such a good fuck, he’d have ordered her to quit wearing that cheap stuff long ago.

Uttering a low growl, he slammed into her one last time. His chest heaved as he sucked in more of Chita’s cheap perfume mingled with garage grease and oil. “ Honey ,” he managed between breaths, “you’ve got the sweetest pussy in all of New York .”

“ Thank you.” She wriggled free and reached down to hike up her panties and pantyhose. “ I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”

He slapped her buttocks before she could cover herself, loving the feel of her smooth flesh beneath his hand. He chuckled when she jumped.

“ That’s what you get for extending your vacation.” He tucked his custom-made silk shirt back into his slacks and yanked up the zipper. “ I’m a horny old man and three weeks is too long. Now get back inside before the missus sees you’re gone.”

Chita tugged down her skirt. “ Yes , Mister Franco .”

He watched her sashay between his blue Cadillac Escalade and silver Lincoln Town Car as she headed to the door connecting the garage and the house.

Sixty years old, and I still got it. Whoever said it was all over after fifty was full of shit. Some Friday nights he’d fucked Chita so hard, pumping between her thighs from every position, it was a wonder she could walk the next day. That was what a gumada —a girlfriend—was for.

As Chita opened the connecting door to the house, she threw him a flirtatious look over her shoulder and nearly slammed into Tino . She lowered her eyes as Tino brushed past her, practically shoving her out of the way. Chita disappeared into the house, closing the door behind her.

Tino leaned his hip against the hood of the Lincoln , then crossed his arms, tightening his suit jacket over his broad, steroid-bulked shoulders.

At six feet tall and with dark, handsome Italian looks to match, Tino should have been what every father wanted in a son. Too bad it was only skin deep. Beneath that polished exterior was a calculating little rat Franco had begun to trust less and less.

He buttoned his slacks and fastened his belt. “ You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“ I was rude?” He jabbed a finger in Franco’s direction.

“ What about you being rude to Ma ?” He glanced at the connecting door to the house and spoke with less volume.

“ You once told me Friday nights you take out your gumada, and Saturday night you take out your wife. All the other nights are for family. Not getting your rocks off.”

Franco narrowed his eyes. “ Don’t you ever speak to me with such disrespect again. You’re my only son, but I’m head of this family, and lately you seem to have forgotten that.”

“ You wanna talk about disrespect?” He shoved off the car and stopped short a foot from where Franco stood.

Challenge gleamed in his son’s eyes, another thing Franco had noticed with increasing frequency.

“ You don’t respect my mother,” Tino gritted out, “or you wouldn’t be banging the maid right under her nose and in her own house. ”

“ Her house?” He glared at his son. “ Who do you think paid for this place? I did, and you know it.” Heat rose to his face as he considered the balls it took for one of his own capos—his son, no less—to confront him in this insubordinate manner.

“ Don’t ever forget your place. You’re my capo, and you take orders from me .

” They locked stares long enough for Franco to count the gold flecks in Tino’s dark eyes.

“ I don’t owe you any explanation about who I fuck and where I do it.

As my son, I tell you it’s because I respect your mother that I screw the maid.

I would never disrespect your mother by asking her to do half the things I do with Chita . ”

“ Fine .” Tino unclenched his jaw and blew out a breath. “ But get off my ass about Maria .”

“ Stop beating the crap out of her, and I will.” Franco backed off. “ Women are fragile and need to be treated like queens.”

“ You want me to stay out of your personal life. Stay out of mine.” He fisted his hands. “ What I do with my wife is my business.”

“ Bullshit .” Franco smacked the garage door opener on the wall with the heel of his hand.

The motor whirred as the massive garage door creaked, then opened. A gust of cold air blew into the garage, but Franco barely felt it. Anger at Tino’s increasingly shitty attitude was pissing him off and making him hotter under the collar than he could ever remember being.

He hooked his thumb, indicating Tino should follow him. The house was swept regularly for bugs, but there was no sense taking a chance discussing business inside. The FBI had ears everywhere.

Their shoes crunched on the white stone driveway as they walked to the wall overlooking Lower and Gravesend Bays . Cawing seagulls hovered overhead. Wind whipped up the cliff, ruffling Franco’s thinning hair.

Briefly , he considered throwing Tino over the ledge and ridding himself of a major pain in the ass, but Tino’s mother would be heartbroken, something Franco couldn’t live with. Instead , he turned on his son and slapped him in the face.

Tino flinched from the blow. A tick worked overtime in his jaw, and his cheek reddened where Franco had slapped him.

“ You listen to me and listen good.” Franco’s heart hammered. This was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on his son.

The shocked look on Tino’s face quickly disappeared, his eyes blazing with a different emotion now. If murdering looks could kill, Franco had no doubt he’d be fish bait.

“ When you pound on Maria to the point where she has to go to the hospital, you bring unwanted attention and heat down on the whole Family , and that affects business.” He waved his finger in front of Tino’s nose.

“ I will not tolerate that, especially with the Commission meeting set to happen any day now. The last thing I need are more feds tailing us everywhere we go. You fucked things up enough when you took out that fed without my sanction.”

Tino’s nostrils flared so wide he thought his son was about to snap and come at him.

“ Yeah , I know about that,” he continued. “ There’s nothing I don’t know. There’s too much at stake for you to run around half-cocked all the time. If I can’t control my own people, let alone my own son, the Commission will never grant me a seat.”

He paused to gauge Tino’s reaction. Aside from clenching and unclenching his hands, the little prick kept his mouth shut. Good thing too. Franco detested using his hands for violence. That’s what God invented guns, knives, and ice picks for, for shit’s sake.

“ Now that we’ve got that straightened out, we can talk business.” He paused, making sure Tino wasn’t about to whip out a gun and plug him. “ What are you doing to catch the assholes who’ve been ripping us off?”

Tino’s lips compressed as he took a deep breath through his nose.

“ I ordered my guys to beef up their security systems. My shore house is tighter than Fort Knox . Psycho’s latest security enhancement is something extra special.

When he told me about it, I nearly pissed my pants.

Whoever tries ripping Psycho off is going to end up really rattled. ” He snickered. “ And dead.”

Franco held up his hand. “ I don’t want to know. If that guy wasn’t such a motivated enforcer, I’d have him committed for being one sick motherfucker.”

“ The man does love to kill.” Tino chuckled. “ Good thing he’s on our side. Whoever these guys are, I’ll get them.”

“ It’s taking too long.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “ Make this your priority. Work with Rocco . The Commission won’t respect a boss who can’t safeguard his own assets.”

“ I can handle it.”

“ I’m not gonna say it again.” He stared into his son’s dark, emotionless eyes. “ Bring Rocco more into the loop. The man gets things done.”

“ Fine ,” he gritted out.

Franco breathed in the briny smell of the bay, thoroughly disgusted. Slapping his own son went against the most important thing he believed in. Family . Family values and protecting the people he loved most meant everything.

“ Your mother and I will be attending a society event this Saturday night, and as a member of this family, you and your lovely wife will join us. Maria needs to get out more. You keep her so locked up, she’s as pale as these rocks.

” He kicked at the white stones, sending several flying against the wall.

Tino’s lip curled. “ I hate those stupid charity things.”

“ I don’t care.” His patience was tanking fast. “ You will go, and you’ll exercise decorum while you’re there, particularly toward your wife. Are we clear on this?”

Tino’s jaw muscles flexed. “ Yes .”

Another gust of wind bit through Franco’s shirt, and he indicated for Tino to follow him inside. “ Dinner should be ready. About that business yesterday, everything go okay?”

They headed to the front of the mansion Franco had specially built to mimic deceased Gambino crime boss Paul Castellano’s Todt Hill estate on Staten Island not a quarter mile away. Fluted white columns flanked the entryway to the enormous stucco structure.

“ It’s done.” He took the few steps to the massive, carved oak door and reached for the knob.

Franco placed his hand on Tino’s arm, stopping him. “ So he got my message?”

“ Yeah .” Tino smirked. “ Loud and clear.”

“ Excellent .” Knowing precisely how Tino had delivered the message, he smiled at the obvious quip and clapped his son on the shoulder. “ There’s been far too much trouble with bookies lately, and we can’t afford to have any more bodies show up right now.”

That thought brought to mind a bookie he’d taken out a long, long time ago. One he never would have suspected of crossing him. Trust no one . That was how he’d survived three attempted hits on his life and avoided going to jail for more than a few days.

Tino opened the door, and they stepped inside onto the pink marble floor separating the hallway from the dining room.

“ Dinner is ready, Mister Franco ,” Chita called out.

“ Wonderful .” He rubbed his hands together to warm them. “ What are we having?”

“ Roast pork and orriechiette,” Chita answered, giving the name of the pasta that, in Italian , meant little ears .

Franco laughed. “ How appropriate.”

Despite his warning not to, Tino threw Chita a derisive look behind her back.

With each passing day, he was behaving less like his son and more like a rival.

In this line of business, an all-out power struggle was something one of them would not walk away from.

It was clear Tino no longer had his father’s back.

Son or no son, it was time to activate Franco’s watchdog.