“Quit being so damn cryptic!” Lia snapped as she pushed away from me. “I certainly hope I’ve heard the worst by now, and being evasive isn’t going to make me feel any better!”
I reached out and pulled her back to me. She came reluctantly but didn’t actually resist. I tightened my grip on her, completely afraid to let her go now. She hadn’t heard the worst, but she’d certainly heard enough. She knew that whatever she decided to do, I shouldn’t have to lie to her about what I was doing.
It was time to tell her the rest.
“It has to do with why I got released,” I said. “I made a deal with a couple of federal agents. One of them was the guy you talked to outside my apartment. The other was inside talking to me at the same time.”
I kept my grip on her shirt as I looked up at her, and she scrutinized me cautiously as I spoke.
“Most of the organizations in the city deal with the usual: politics, corruption of law enforcement, bribery, marketeering, money laundering, prostitution—all that typical stuff. There’s enough of that to go around, and they tend to work together pretty well for the common interest as far as the local government and police go. Outside of that, there are some specialized businesses primarily run by separate families.”
Lia continued to watch me intently.
“I work for Rinaldo Moretti,” I told her. “His family runs the majority of the casinos and has its hands in strip joints, a lot of weapon sales, cocaine, and the caviar trade.”
“Caviar?” Lia’s brow furrowed. “That’s not illegal.”
“Well, yeah, actually,” I corrected, “some of it is. It depends on where it comes from and how you get it. It’s a business that is heavily regulated—like the sale of ivory or something like that. Some of it’s legal, but a lot of it isn’t. It’s actually a bigger business than a lot of the drug trade.”
“Shit,” Lia said. “I had no idea.”
“Overfishing caused a shortage,” I replied. “Shortage means higher demand. Higher demand means there’s room for organized crime to step in and make sure we’re the ones with the best supply when it comes to the kind of shit stupidly rich people will pay for. It’s like gorilla-hand ashtrays or certain types of cars. Yeah, you can get them legally, but it’s a pain in the ass. Sometimes it’s easier to get them illegally.”
“Do they still come with the manufacturer’s warranty?” Lia asked.
I glanced up at her, saw her smirk, and laughed a bit before going on with Mafia 101.
“Gavino Greco’s organization is Rinaldo’s primary competition. They focus on stolen goods, heroin, and human trafficking.”
“Human trafficking?”
Fuck. I probably had said too much, especially considering my thoughts of her in chains.
“I don’t really want to go into that,” I admitted. “It’s as bad as it sounds. If you really want the details, I’ll tell you, but it’s just going to make you sick to your stomach.”
“I guess I’ll stick with the vague, then.”
“Good call.” I collected my thoughts. “So I’ve been working for Moretti and his family since I moved here. The feds want me to help bring him in, but I can’t do that. He’s been great to me, and I can’t betray him.”
“Great to you?” Lia said with a snort. “He made you a killer.”
“No, he didn’t,” I corrected. I turned my eyes to her in warning. “I’m not going to hear any shit-talk about him either. Think what you want of me—I’m responsible for whatever the fuck I do—but don’t say a fucking word against Rinaldo. Clear?”
Lia stared at me for a long moment before she nodded once.
I was being shitty and I knew it, but I was in a shitty position and sometimes you just have to drop back to what you are most comfortable and familiar with to keep going. I also had to remember that she wasn’t used to any of this, and me going all mob-threatening on her probably wasn’t going to keep her close to me. I had to be careful.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “He’s just…he’s always taken care of me, dealt with my messes when I fucked up, and been more of a father to me than anyone else ever has been, okay?”
“I understand,” Lia replied. Her fingers traced my arm, causing little goose bumps to form on my skin. “It’s all right.”
She sat down next to me on the bed, and I turned to look at her.
“You’re really going to stay?” I didn’t know why I was opening the door for this conversation. Maybe I just needed the reassurance.
“I told you before,” she said. “I didn’t spend all this time looking for you to just turn around and go home. I don’t like this at all though, Evan—don’t think for a second that I do.”