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Chapter 18Josh

Ithought your uncle was a low-level mobster,” I said. To Aly. My girlfriend.

“That’s what Dad told me.” She peered through the windshield at the Italian-style villa we approached. “I guess dirty work pays well?”

I was gonna dirty work her as soon as I got her alone. The smile on my face was starting to hurt at this point, but all I could think about was how we could get this over with as fast as possible so I could drag her back to her place and consummate our relationship.

Maybe we could back the car up like a dump truck, tip Brad’s body out on the driveway, and wish her uncle good luck as we raced away like the horny miscreants we were. And yes, I felt comfortable speaking for both of us. Aly had zero skill at hiding her emotions, and she’d been sending me hot-for-stalker looks since I took my mask off.

Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze from her and peered out at the towering front gate. It was closed, but there was a small console to buzz up to the gatehouse just beyond. Was anyone even awake at this hour?

I had my answer a minute later when Aly rolled down her window. She’d barely reached out to press the little red call button when the speaker crackled to life.

“Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?” a gruff male voice asked.

I knew it was the asscrack of dawn, but I still didn’t appreciate him talking to my girlfriend that way.

There went my mouth, pulling up in a too-wide smile again.

My girlfriend.

Aly leaned out into the cold night air. “I’m Alyssa Cappellucci, Nico’s niece.”

The gate swung open on silent hinges.

Aly put the car in gear, and we shared a surprised look. That seemed far too easy. No verification of identity necessary? Were they expecting us, or was there a standing order to let her in if she ever showed up? Considering what Aly said about how important family was to Nico, the latter seemed likely.

A thought struck me then, and ah, fuck – mobsters were probably more into true crime than most. I’d been so busy planning fun, naked couple activities that I hadn’t thought about how this might play out. What if someone fixated on my appearance and brought up my dad? I needed to be the one to tell Aly; I couldn’t risk her finding out from someone else when I didn’t have the time to sit her down and explain everything. She’d probably lose her shit if that happened, and I wouldn’t blame her.

I reached into the front pocket of my bag and pulled out my trusted disguise: glasses and a fake mustache. In my defense, it was a very high-end fake mustache, and it looked incredibly real, even up close, but yes, I still looked like a reject from an 80s buddy cop movie in it.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Aly said as I flipped down the sun visor and used the mirror to guide me while I stuck the mustache into place.

“I’ll explain later. I promise,” I said, patting the sides down.

“Are you famous or something?”

“Or something,” I said, turning toward her.

She glanced at me and shook her head. “You look…”

I waggled my brows. “Hot, right?”

She jerked her gaze back to the driveway as we passed the gatehouse and the shadowy figure watching us out of its windows. “You shouldn’t. That thing is ridiculous.”

Unable to help myself, I closed the distance between us and whispered, “And yet you still want to ride it.” For good measure, I brushed it over the shell of her ear.

She jerked away, eyes fixed on our destination, pink coloring her cheeks in the dashboard light. “I think we’ve already established that I’ll try anything once.”

I straightened in my seat, trying to remind my dick that we were about to meet a notorious mobster, and doing it sporting a full erection was less than ideal. Unfortunately, all I could picture was me lying flat on my back with Aly straddling my face. I needed a distraction.

How about the dead body in the trunk?

Oh, right. I’d just killed a man. And while Aly had done a great job of weaponizing my logic and using it against me, part of me still wondered just how “accidental” Brad’s death was.

I couldn’t remember taping his mouth. Yes, I knew I’d slapped the duct tape in place, but I’d been distracted by something Aly said at the time, and was half-excited, half-terrorized by what we were about to do. Had I just been sloppy? Or had some subconscious part of me acted on impulse and placed the tape intentionally? The fact that I wasn’t sure and probably never would be was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

I slipped my glasses into place as we pulled into the wide, circular driveway. This part was cobbled with red brick. It must be a nightmare to maintain. Our springs were weird, and the freeze/defrost cycle caused havoc on the city’s roads, making them heave and buckle. I could only imagine how that would impact the tightly-packed brickwork.

As Aly slowed the car, one of the large bays of the five-car garage opened, revealing a man in a blue flannel bathrobe. Uncle Nico? He motioned us into the bay, stepping back so Aly had room to pull in. It put him on my side of the car as she parked, and I tried not to stare as we passed him. He didn’t look like a soulless mobster. The man was maybe five and a half feet tall, thin, and unimposing. His hair was salt and pepper gray, his skin was a darker shade of olive than Aly’s, and his nose was a tad too large for his face.

Aly put the car in park and turned to me. “You ready?”

I shrugged. “Not really, but what choice do we have?”

She shook her head. “None. Let’s do this.”

Together, we got out of the car.

Nico was still on my side, and I towered over him as I rose to my full height.

He stared up at me, brows lifted. “Nice stache, Porno Joe.”

Great. Smart-assery ran in Aly’s family.

A killer rebuttal was on the tip of my tongue, but I held it in check. Trading insults was not the way to ingratiate myself with this man, and thanks to the body in the trunk, he had a lot of power over me. It was best not to anger him right off the bat.

I held out my hand. “Close. It’s Josh.”

He snorted but slid his palm into mine, his grip surprisingly strong. “Too bad. Josh doesn’t have the same ring. I’m Nico.”

I nodded as we let each other go.

“You Italian?” he asked, eyeing me.

“A quarter. My mom is Italian and Algerian.”

He looked me over again. “I thought you might have a little –”

“Don’t say anything racist,” Aly cut him off, rounding the car's hood.

Nico turned toward her with arms outspread and a wide grin that seemed genuine. “I would never.”

Aly shot me a glance, clearly uncomfortable with Nico’s familiarity and the conversation she’d interrupted, but she stepped into his embrace anyway, leaning down slightly to hug him. “Thanks for letting us in. I hate to do this, but we have a bit of a –”

“EH!” Nico barked. “Not out here.” He pulled away from her and went to close the garage. Then he motioned us toward a side door.

We passed through it into a functional yet opulent mudroom, complete with marble flooring and what looked like a full doggie spa in the corner.

Nico pointed at our feet. “Shoes off,” he said. “Moira will have my head if you track that in here.”

I glanced down. Not only were my shoes muddy, but so were my jeans from when I’d puked in the bushes. The house was warm, so I shrugged off my winter coat when I finished kicking off my shoes and hung it next to Aly’s on a hook by the door.

Nico led us from the mudroom to a very ornate, busily-designed kitchen. “Coffee? Wine?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Aly said.

I squinted as I tried to take everything in. The overhead lights were bright enough to glint off all the marble and glass. It was like the Palace of Versailles had thrown up in there. Everything was done in cream and beige, and I couldn’t understand why the mosaic backsplash was full of naked people. It looked like it was supposed to be some ancient Italian design, but some of the pieces were slightly off, so one person’s arm sat much lower than the other, and another guy’s dick was separated from his body by a full tile space. It looked like it was just floating there on its own.