Captured by the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family Book 2)

  Captured by the Mob

  Bianchi Crime Family

  C.M. Steele

  Copyrighted © 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: CoverGirl Designs

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  ISBN: 978-1-954645-05-9

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Nero: As the Underboss and enforcer for the Bianchi Family, I've got my hands full. When dealing with my enemies, I'm quick, efficient, and I never slip up. That's until one beauty accidentally gets in the way, seeing more than she should. I can't let her go, and I can't end her, so I do the only thing I can...

  I take her captive.

  Mariana: I thought my day couldn't get any worse. I sucked at my job and was about to be homeless until I had to go knocking on the wrong door. When he opened the door and dragged me in, I thought I was a goner, but it's not that simple. He has other plans for me.

  For now, he's my captor.

  Chapter One

  Nero

  “Any problems that I need to be made aware of?” Dom asks as we sit in his office, sipping our coffee. We’re having our weekly morning meeting before we handle our day-to-day operations. I live less than a mile down the road from his estate, which makes it easy for these early-ass days.

  “Nothing on my end, but you know, the day’s only just begun.”

  Just as the words are out of my mouth, the office door bursts open. Our eyes go straight to the door and to the man standing there. “We have a problem. A major discrepancy, as a matter of fact,” Niccolò blurts out in a rush of words as he storms into Domani’s office with his dress shirt rumpled like he’s been up all freaking night. I set my coffee down and stare at him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d found someone to warm his bed, but the man lives like a hermit surrounded by his books.

  “Well, good morning, brother.” Dom raises his hand, stopping his brother from going off the handle. It’s only seven, and Niccolò looks as if he’s gonna jump out of his skin with anxiety if he doesn’t get this off his chest.

  “Sorry—good morning, Dom, Nero.” I acknowledge his greeting with a nod and then go back to my cup of coffee. I have a feeling I’m going to need it. Nico’s not prone to outbursts or looking so damn disheveled, so all hands need to be on deck for this one.

  “I’d offer you some coffee, but I’m guessing you’ve already had an entire pot.” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the chuckle. “So now that we got that out of the way—the who, what, and whys.”

  He adjusts his glasses, pushing them back up his nose and then takes a deep breath before beginning his tale. “Well, I noticed that the money from the Eastside Market has been short. Looking back at the records from the shop owner, money has been missing every month. Our runners don’t know that we get a report from the client as well. Comparing the two, it’s clear as day that Eddie Walsh has been skimming off the top and handing in false reports.”

  “Okay. Are you sure?” Nico gives his brother the are you kidding me look. The man knows his numbers to the point of some Rain Man-type shit. If he says it’s wrong, then it is.

  “Fine. Where is this asshole?”

  Nico sets a document down on Dom’s desk. “I don’t know exactly where he’s hiding out at. That’s not my area.” He looks at me and then back to Dom. “I have his contact info, but I don’t know where he stays. I noticed he started looking like a dopehead the last time he made a deposit.”

  So there’s a chance he could be hiding anywhere. I’ll sniff that fucker out. It’s my job, after all. I’m the underboss and one hell of an enforcer. I’ve found and dealt with more of our enemies than anyone else.

  “Give Nero his number, and then you go back and get some fucking sleep. You look like shit.” Damn, those are fighting words in this family. We all take pride in dressing well. The clothes make the man. No one would take us seriously if we strolled in looking like Nico right now.

  “I thought getting married and having your heir would make you a happier man,” Nico mutters, adjusting his clothes a bit and brushing his hands down his suit jacket. Again, I have to hold back the laugh that’s tickling the back of my throat.

  “I’m fucking ecstatic when there aren’t problems taking me away from my queen.” Dom turns to address me. “You know what to do, Nero.” He hands me the number on a piece of paper.

  “Yes.” I nod and make a note to run a tracker on his number. There’s too much going on to handle the matter at the moment. I keep my seat while Nico leaves, closing the door behind him.

  “Damn, Nico needs to loosen up.” I adjust my sleeves and shake my head. If anyone else had said that to Dom, he would have them pinned to the wall with a gun in their mouth, but since they’re both my cousins, I get away with saying it.

  “Tell me about it. That stress is going to send him to the hospital. I don’t need this added problem. I need to head over to my Northside distillery and check on the plans for the expansion.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll make sure to have this taken care of by the end of the day.” I’m not one to fail on assignments, even if it means taking me away from my usual days at our investment firm.

  “I know you will.”

  We shake hands and leave his office just in time for his wife to come up to us in the entryway. “On your way out?” she asks me as Dom drags her to his side. The man is obsessed with his wife, and it’s plain for everyone to see. Not that I’m complaining, because I like Aria.

  “I have some business to handle. See ya later, Aria,” I say.

  “Be careful, Nero,” she warns me. She’s a sweetheart, and my cousin is lucky to have her.

  “I will do my best.” I wink and walk out of the house, hopping in my SUV to get my duties handled. I have to go into the office and make my presence known before I can split and drop the son of a bitch robbing us blind. After looking at the discrepancies, I’m shocked that he got away with it for so long. A junkie isn’t the kind of person to be meticulous. Call it a gut instinct, but I doubt he’s working alone.

  Pulling into my parking spot, I head into the office. We keep a mi
nimum amount of security in the building to prevent our own issues should our alibis be needed.

  My assistant is on me with his clipboard, itching to give me the list of shit I have to tackle before I can get to my boss’s request. “Mr. Bianchi, you have three new messages this morning from Mr. Rodgers. He wants to know if you have time for a meeting.”

  “Lord, does that man try my patience.” I rub my temples. “Carson, set it up for noon. He’ll get an hour of my time to give me what he has, and not a minute more.” That man drives me bananas. He’s so damned anal about everything, especially when it comes to finances. Hell, he makes Niccolò look chill, except my cousin is a lot better at his job. Niccolò’s his boss, but since I’m the one who determines which projects we fund, he needs to go through me.

  “Yes, sir,” Carson says, tapping his tablet with his stylus and super proud that he’s able to check something off his list. He’s another one who is a perfectionist.

  “I need a cup of coffee.” His face screws up in surprise, so I answer his unasked question. “My cup went cold this morning.” He knows that when I meet with my cousin, I usually forgo my morning dose of caffeine.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I slide into my office, closing the door behind me and hoping that no one else breaks my concentration. The first thing to do is to track Walsh down, take him out, and dispose of his remains before anyone notices. Still, that must wait until I handle the list of projects and reports waiting for me.

  I spend my morning going over all my duties for the office, having Carson fill my coffee twice. It’s just one of those days. A headache builds between my eyes so I set the last cup to the side, focusing on my work.

  A knock at my door twenty minutes before my meeting with Rodgers irritates me. If it’s that pipsqueak, I might wring his scrawny neck.

  “Come in.” My assistant walks in looking a little rattled.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sir, I have a family emergency.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, my mom’s cat tripped her and she’s on the way to the hospital.” Damn, that’s rough. His mother loves her cat. I happen to be a dog person, but I know they just love to get under your feet as you’re walking, and Carson’s mother isn’t young anymore so the risks of serious injury are much greater.

  “I’m sorry. I hope she’s going to be okay,” I offer my sympathies because he looks so nervous to ask to leave early. He’s worked for me for two years, and I don’t believe he’s ever left early or taken a day off.

  “Thank you. I hope so too.”

  “Go on and get out of here. I can deal with Rodgers. Let me know if you’ll be in tomorrow when you figure it out.”

  “Thank you again, Mr. Bianchi.” I nod, and he rushes out. That’s good, because having one last person running in and out of the office is better for my method of disappearing for a few hours. I have ways to go unnoticed; however, it does make it easier.

  My private line rings, and this is for the other business I need to handle today. “Bianchi,” I answer.

  “Boss man, it’s Bingo.”

  I know who it is even though I don’t store names in this phone. It’s a burner phone that we have hundreds of, having fallen off a shipment headed for Chicago eight months ago. Of course, the manifests with the serial numbers on them disappeared as well. How fucking convenient.

  “Hey, Bingo, where is Eddie Walsh?” He’s one of our guys who is in the know about almost everything. We call him that because instead of saying yes, his answer is always “bingo.” The man is a bit weird but is a dedicated son of a bitch.

  “Walsh? Last I saw him was around two in the morning. He was on his way back from the strip club in Hinsdale. He said he had to wait at a home in the southwest suburbs to pay off a debt. He said if he did the job, he and the guy would be square.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “I don’t know. He just told me it would be fun, and in that creepy fucking predator tone he has sometimes. I’m guessing it’s one of Gordon’s potential prostitutes with some nose candy for him to push.” More like sniffing up his own fucked-up nose.

  “Do you have the place?”

  “Bingo.” He reads off the address, and then my alarm on my computer goes off. I have a meeting with Rodgers to get to.

  “Stay strong and do your job,” I tell him and end the call. So Walsh is holed up in a home in the southwest suburbs. I tap my pen on my desk and then head down to the conference room for my meeting with Rodgers.

  An hour later and not a minute more, I’m up and out of the conference room, bored to tears. The man needs to get a sense of humor—even just a bit. I head back into my office and pack up my shit.

  I pretend to be working when I get a call at the office from Carson. He’s going to be out the next two days because his mother’s hand and ankle are sprained, and she’ll need some help around until his sister can return to town. It’s fine because the place runs like a well-oiled machine that brings in a hundred million dollars annually in revenue.

  Slipping out the back exit from my office and down the private staircase that leads to another vehicle of mine. From this angle, my car can’t be picked up by any of the surveillance cameras. I don’t use a digital map and this ride isn’t built with a GPS, so after using a paper map, I head south.

  The drive is a long one, so it takes me two hours to get there in this fucking shitty traffic. I picked the wrong time to leave, but I didn’t want the fuck to leave if he happened to get wind that we’re onto his scam. It’s nearly bumper to bumper until you get past the city itself, then the roads open up. Why does Chicago traffic suck so fucking much?

  Once I arrive in the poor, run-down suburban area, I scope it out for any signs of security. There looks to be little to no security anywhere which isn’t surprising.

  This area had once been affluent, but all it took was a lot of drugs to turn that around. It’s one of the shittier parts of town, so I search the area for anyone suspicious, going about it methodically before I approach the house where my target is waiting. I spend a good while watching as no one comes and goes from that house. Thankfully, most of the homes are vacant or boarded up nearby, leaving fewer potential witnesses. Not that anyone would say a word because snitching is frowned upon in this drug ridden area.

  It’s four in the afternoon when I finally decide it’s time to make my move. I’m creeping down the block to the house he’s holed up in when my attention is divided by a woman. I spot an angel coming my way. The sun creates a halo around her long, wavy reddish-brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that’s coming undone. It’s the middle of May, but the sun’s beating down with a heatwave which creates a dewy glow on her face, brightening up her rosy cheeks. Heaven help me, she looks thoroughly fucked, and if I get my way she will be.

  Fuck me. My dick stiffens in my suit pants to the point of pain, so I do my best to look away. I should just duck my head and make sure she doesn’t see me, but I need to steal another glance. Thankfully, she’s oblivious to my stare as she moves to a parked vehicle just across the street, kitty-corner from my location. She’s in a pair of plain khaki pants and a dark green polo with a logo on the breast pocket. Despite having a large chest, the logo is hard to make out with the sun beaming down.

  She sits down in the car, taking a long drink of water before making some notes on her pad of paper. Using my burner phone, I zoom in with the camera and then write down her plate number that I plan to pull the records on very shortly.

  “Priorities, remember your priorities,” I say, trying to follow through on my objective. I’ll deal with this piece of shit, and then I’ll find her again. Business first, and then I’m going to find a way to introduce myself to my future bride. One look, one unaware swipe of her hair behind her ear, and my soul belongs to that woman; it doesn’t take more to know she’s mine.

  Ignoring my lust, I head off to where I need to be, slip on my leather gloves, and screw on the suppressor. I enter through the
sliding glass patio door in the back yard, which is surprisingly unlocked. Fucking crackheads are too stoned to remember things like that. I can smell the piss-soaked floors from the kitchen, and I do my best to hold my breath.

  Creeping through the house, I find my target peeking through the front window, waiting, unaware that I’m feet from him with my gun in hand. When his eyes turn on me, my gun is pressed into his chest.

  “It looks like we have a problem, Walsh. You’ve been stealing from us.” His eyes turn into saucers as he processes what’s happening.

  The doorbell rings, and I freeze. “You be quiet,” I snarl with my finger to my lips for him to shut it. I still have to question this asshole. He’s not working alone. Perhaps that’s who he’s meeting with to fuck us over some more. Well, I got a bullet for that person too if they’re in the slightest bit involved with this piece of dog shit.

  He starts shouting, and I see eyes peeking through the window. Fucking hell. I pop him with the back of my gun against Walsh’s head, dropping him to his knees, and open the door to welcome my very unwelcome guest, who better have answers for me. When her frightened eyes meet mine, I know I fucked up.

  Chapter Two

  Mariana

  Earlier that day…

  "Just one more try—please, Mr. Gordon,” I beg my boss. I’ve been a total disappointment to myself and this company. I just wanted to make more money and get the hell out of the office because I don’t trust the way he looks at me.

  "Girl, I'm not running a charity." More like a scam. I bite my tongue because I need money, and I need it like yesterday. I should have kept my old job, even though my last boss was a creep. Now I’ve been black-balled and forced to take a cold-call, door-to-door sales job for a guy who makes my old boss look like a complete gentleman.

  "Please. I need this job." Frankly I'm terrible at it, but my rent is due, and this job pays quickly if people sign up for our solar power panels. "I'll do better."