“As soon as all the bad guys are in jail?”
Ben opened his mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. He’d collected enough evidence in his first few years undercover to convict the top Vegas mafia bosses of multiple crimes. But the top brass in the police department had done fuck all with it. Whether it was greed or politics, Ben didn’t know, but they refused to act. He’d had a hard time dealing with all the excuses and noise, the requests for evidence that wouldn’t end, so he’d just put his head down and resigned himself to keep working until they got whatever it was they were looking for.
But things had changed for him when he was taken into a new crew with a new capo that he couldn’t help but like and admire. His capo didn’t allow gratuitous violence. He wasn’t into prostitution or drugs. Although he loved the Mafia life, he craved respectability, and Ben understood that. As an unwanted foster kid, he had craved respectability too. Over the next few years, he earned the trust and respect of his new capo. His work on the crew was valued, appreciated, and rewarded. They were like the family the foster kid in him had always wanted, the friends he’d never made in the police department because he’d grown up wary of getting too close because he always knew he’d be moving on. It had been easy to agree to stay undercover year after year. But it became harder and harder to live with the fact he was betraying his capo’s trust.
After ten years of guilt and deception, and constantly looking over his shoulder, thinking any minute he would be whacked, he wanted what everyone else had. A life. A family. Time to spend with his kid before she was all grown up. Friends he didn’t have to betray.
“When I’m free, sweetheart, first thing I’m gonna do is come for you. I’ll get that custody order changed and you can be my girl all the time.”
Daisy rested her small hand on her cheek. “I’ll hold that promise in my heart for when times are bad.”
He didn’t know how much worse things could be for her with her Mom a druggie and deadbeat Gabe in the house, but it was all he could give her for now.
FOUR
“Darling. It’s been so long.” Gina Cordano, Mia’s mom, and the perfect mob wife, kissed Mia’s cheeks and ushered her into the cool marble foyer of their Italian Renaissance home in the exclusive Henderson luxury community.
From the outside, the house looked like many of the other luxury homes in the gated area, all with awe-inspiring views and access to the canyon style golf-holes of the Rio Secco Championship Golf Course. However, security at the Cordano residence included wire fencing, CCTV cameras, and twenty-four hour guards as well as ten-foot high bushes for privacy.
Alfio, her father’s top enforcer, closed the massive cathedral door behind her and punched in the security code. Before she understood what her father did for a living, Mia had always been amazed at her friends’ families who did not lock themselves into their homes at all hours of the day. They routinely left doors and windows open, and wandered outside in their yards without the benefit of bodyguards or cameras. They had a freedom she desperately wanted and knew she would never have.
Mia wrinkled her nose at the overpowering scent of her mother’s perfume and gave her a dutiful hug, trying her best not to crease her mother’s linen dress. Not that it would matter. Her mother had a vast wardrobe and changed five or six times a day in her role as a symbol of her husband’s power.
“You look nice, Mama. Is that Prada?”
“New season.” Her mother smiled her perfect smile in her perfectly made-up face with her perfect haircut into a perfectly chiseled asymmetrical bob. Although Mia shared her mother’s thick, dark straight hair, she had gone for a blunt cut as soon as her hair reached her shoulders, a look she knew her mother despised.
Her mother’s gaze drifted down over Mia’s black street-punk dress, the fake corset laced down the side, crinoline underlay and shoulder straps with silver buckles. Mia had paired it with lace stockings and her favorite thick-soled boots, calf-high with red roses embroidered on the sides.
“Your father will be disappointed to see you dressed like a punk-rock star. I have some last season Chanel upstairs in the spare room. Why don’t you run up and find something to wear. He’s not in a good mood tonight.”