Page 2 of The Mafia Assassin’s Redemption (Mafia Obsession #2)

TWO

harry

NEW YORK CITY, PRESENT DAY

Monsters don’t die. Good doesn’t overcome evil. It just sometimes wins a battle. But for every monster slain, another one grows in its place.

That’s not enough of a reason for me to stop my fight.

I race through the rain, car horns blaring as midday traffic builds. Rivers of water turn metallic, reflecting the lights of the brownstones and storefronts.

My chest relaxes when the church comes into view.

I rush up the stairs of the familiar old stone building, push open the wooden doors, and call out, “Father Luigi? I’m here.”

From the sacristy, the old priest, a little too thick around the waist from his housekeeper’s constant baking, walks out to the pulpit and leans on it, jangling the big brass keys at me. “You’re late, kid. You missed confession.”

“I’ll save it for next time; it’ll be juicier that way.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Not if I already know what you’re up to.”

The good priest steps down and makes his way up the aisle as I breathe in the incense-soaked air. I push down the hood of my sweatshirt and smile as he squeezes my shoulder, passing me to lock the doors.

This routine is completely ordinary.

Like clockwork, I’m the pious church assistant who makes sure the church is clean, all the psalm books stacked neatly, the coffee and tea stocked in the sacristy for the church groups that turn up daily.

I do this work when the housekeeper’s left for the day.

I pray and live a quiet life in Alphabet City.

Miss Hazel White.

Ordinary. Boring.

The girl men don’t look at. The girl with God in her heart who’s bent on helping others.

I volunteer at all church events and outreaches, the soup kitchen, the shelter. I talk to runaways and those who need help.

But most of all, I fight the big monsters who lurk in the shadows.

That’s my biggest outreach of all.

Father Luigi pretends he doesn’t know and stays invisible, his focus on his flock and the important congregation members who like special evening services here and there.

He’s a good priest and I know a good priest or nun when I see them. I spent a lot of my life growing up with them before I came to live with my uncle at age seventeen here in New York.

Father Luigi’s services draw a good crowd, but a modest one, which makes his beautiful, well-fortified church in the West Village and its attached home with the high walls kind of questionable.

But not to the monsters who attend his services.

See, he’s a mafia priest. And they use his church as a cover, rewarding him well for his “protection.” The funds the church takes in all go to the poor and to those in need.

And even better, those monsters give us access to a secret network that links our church to Italy and beyond.

We use our resources to save women who want out from the mafia. With the help of the network, we can send them far away and with new identities.

Father Luigi lets me handle the details. I keep him in the dark, make him seem ignorant, even to the women. That’s my protection for him.

All it takes is one person, one slip, and the whole operation crumbles.

And if I go down, he can find someone else to continue the work.

We might not crush the monsters, but we can help the victims.

They’re not just girlfriends and wives and sisters who want to run. It’s the ones who are trafficked and sold to the monsters.

I escaped a monster at ten. Someone who killed my father and chased off my mother. He took me, either to be killed by another family or by his friends. I don’t know. I didn’t wait around long enough to find out.

He said he’d take care of me. And then I shot him. It was an accident. I mean, I had the gun but didn’t know what I was doing.

But it bought me precious seconds. It gave me the chance to get away from him.

Now I have his blood on me. Staining me. I have a burn scar over half my forearm as a reminder. My penance.

“Did you catch the game, Father?”

He laughs. “Kid, you don’t know me if you think I missed it. I say we’re gonna take the Super Bowl this year.”

It’s getting colder so it’s football season. In the summertime, it’s baseball. But I don’t think Luigi’s met a sport he doesn’t like. If it came down to God or sport, I’m not sure which one he’d choose.

I move around, readying the place for the late service.

“You have an hour, Hazel.”

A thrill hits my stomach, one laced with the sour familiarity of dread.

“She’s here?”

He nods. “In the sacristy.”

I take a step, but he gives his head the smallest shake as he comes up to me. “Father?”

“You can see your friend in a few minutes, child. But first I need the church cleaned. You’ll need to wait to speak to her after the service and your prayers.”

I kneel in the front-row pew, gazing up at Jesus, hoping to feel something more than just the knots in my stomach and the familiarity of Him.

But church is another home for me, a place to be safe, to hide from the monsters. I feel that power, that pull.

The belief in God?

Not so much.

I do believe in good and evil, though.

When enough time’s passed, I go into the sacristy to meet her.

At first I’m taken by her elegance, her dark, lustrous hair and eyes, her perfect makeup. She’s gorgeous.

And scared to shit.

“Hi, I’m Hazel.”

I hold out my hand and her trembling one takes it. “Lara Ricco.”

The Ricco name sends a shiver down my spine. But I don’t react. Instead, I motion to a seat and put on the teakettle. Touching my cross, I ask, “Tea or coffee?”

“I…” She puts a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know.”

“Herbal,” I say it with a smile, the sweet Hazel smile.

The light in here is harsh and I can see the swelling as she turns her head, the slight sheen of extra makeup hiding a black eye. The bruises on her arm that show beneath the long sleeve of her dress.

“Can you help?” she asks. “I tried to ask the priest?—”

“Don’t do that, he doesn’t know.” I select orange blossom and open the packet and drop the bag into the mug. Earl Grey for me.

She nods. “I told him what you said at the bookstore. That I’m your friend.” Her gaze runs over me. “But I thought…”

“It’s safer here, no one to listen to our conversation. I’m the church assistant; I get things ready for service. But Father Luigi doesn’t know a thing about the other work I do. It’s better for me to operate in the dark. Better for everyone.”

She bites her lip, and I pour the water into a mug and hand it to her.

It takes a little while for her to warm up to our circumstances. She slowly tells me more about her brutal husband, how she caught his eye, and how her father pushed for the union. But the moment the ring was on her finger, he became violent and cruel and now she’s scared he’ll kill her.

I’m scared he won’t.

Her story is familiar, and men like her husband thrive on keeping their punching bag around. Some loan them out, others just abuse them and grow more and more sadistic, especially the smaller players in powerful mafia families.

They don’t kill. That would be too easy.

And it creates a hellscape the woman can’t escape from.

“You need to leave this week. The sooner the better. I can arrange a safe place to meet you.” I write something down on a piece of paper and show her. “Memorize that address. The time.” I wait, sip my tea, and then I look at her. “Got it? ”

“Yes, but… what if…?” She swallows and clenches her hands together. “What if Salvatore finds out? His brother, Bernardo, is almost as bad… The Ricci family are old school and?—”

“You can’t think like that.” I put my hand over hers. “What’s the address?”

She recites it back, including the time.

“Two days. If you don’t show, I’ll assume you changed your mind.

” I make sure my voice is soft for this next part.

“And that’s okay. We’ll have to meet up a few more times, as friends.

The bookstore story is nice and generic and it works.

You were looking at the religious books, and so was I.

We meet a few more times and we drift apart. If you change your mind.”

“I…”

“It happens, Lara.”

“Why are you helping me?”

I shrug, trying to keep the violent, haunting images burned into my mind at bay. “Because I was helped as a kid by a priest and a group of nuns. I broke free from bad people, from gangs.” I shift the truth a little. “I want to pay that help forward.”

Father Luigi appears. “I need to get started.”

I get up. “My friend is leaving. I’ll walk her out.”

Shit, Luigi’s words mean someone’s coming here to look for her. We slip out of the back of the church, through the walled gardens and past the rectory to another street. All the while I keep up a calming stream of conversation.

I’ve been in worse situations. I might look inconsequential, but I can fight. I’ve trained. Now I even know how to handle a gun.

“We’ll walk around toward the front of the church. We met on your way here. I invited you. We’re discussing Jesus for the Modern Age . I’m recommending the book to you. It’s about using the peaceful teachings of Jesus in this world, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

We walk, slowing down as I lead her toward the front of the church. My voice gets louder.

“You’ll love the church, Lara. Maybe you could bring your?—”

“Bitch.” A big, hulking man stalks toward us. “You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”

She doesn’t speak and I stay silent, willing myself not to screw anything up.

“Do you really think the driver wouldn’t tell me he dropped you off at this corner? Your husband’s going to be pissed.”

“Sir.” I step between them as movement, or rather a presence, catches my attention in the dark alley at my left. “It was my fault.”

He lifts his hand but suddenly Lara shows why she’s mafia born. “Bernardo, this is my friend from the bookstore. She helps at the church.”

He looks at her and then sets cruel, beady dark eyes on me.

Without a word, a black car pulls up and he opens the door. She looks at me. “Thank?—”

Bernardo backhands her and shoves her into the back seat with a violent push.

“Fucking cunt,” he says as he slams the door on her. Then he turns to sneer at me.

Something in me snaps.

“You shouldn’t treat women like that,” I say. “Coward.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I called you a coward.”

He walks back to me, too close for my liking. He towers over my frame and his big belly rubs against me, sour breath making my stomach roil. “What’s your name? ”

“Hazel White.”

“Watch your step, Hazel White, or I’ll make you regret it.”

I clench my teeth. I need to stop, find my center, and not put this woman’s life in danger. So I force myself to speak softly. “I’m sorry, but you pushed her and?—”

“Shut your mouth.”

For a moment I think he’s going to hurt me, but his gaze flickers up and past me. Then he steps back.

“Keep away from her or I’ll be back.”

With that, he gets in the car. The tires squeal as the driver punches the gas. I stand on the street, frozen to the spot. Like someone’s behind me, with menacing eyes fixated in my direction that sear through the icy flesh to my core.

But when I turn, there’s no one there.

I collapse on the sofa when I get home to my one-bedroom apartment. A siren rips the air apart on Avenue D, shattering the silence. I check my messages, but there’s nothing pressing. Only my uncle Anthony inviting me to dinner at his place in Prospect Park next Sunday.

I heave a deep sigh. Lara desperately wants help but she’s scared. But then again, so is every woman I help.

Aaron is the next point of contact in the network, and he’ll pick her up in New Jersey when I drive her there.

If it comes to that.

Two days.

I let my eyes drift closed. I was living on the street for three days. Hiding from everyone who looked like the monster I escaped, and to ten-year-old me, that was every man with an Irish accent, dark hair, and blue eyes.

God, there were so many of them. I was too scared to even steal food.

What if he found me? Dragged me off? Killed me?

I looked for Mom, too, but she wasn’t there. I hoped she ran far away. When the bad men took Daddy, Mom was dragged off. And?—

I know she escaped. I know it.

So many parts are missing from my memory, though.

We went to start a new life in Ireland, but then the men came. Then the monster.

He shot Daddy.

I saw him. Saw Daddy. The hole in his head. I could see through the smoke and the coat the monster threw on me.

When I shot him, I hoped for something terrible. Unforgivable.

Back then I thought it was unforgivable. Now I know better.

I’d hoped he was dead.

I didn’t even know my finger was near the trigger.

But I know he didn’t die because monsters never do.

They hide.

And then, in the dead of night, they come back.

I open my eyes and stare at the big corkkboard covering my wall. Everything about the criminal Quinn clan. Things about a mysterious killer. A strange man. Pictures of men who look like him.

I don’t remember much.

Just that he was a giant. And he had curling black hair.

Blue eyes like midnight and a lilt to his dark voice.

And he told me he’d take care of me. That means kill, even I knew that at ten years old.

But now I’m grown up .

At twenty-two, I’m older than my years. I’ve lived a life. I’ve trained. I know guns. I know how to fight hard and dirty.

One day, I’ll find this Quinn.

And when I do, I’ll kill him.