Page 15 of Mafia Handbook

Milena returned her uncle’s stare as she waited for Raquel to leave the room. She’d never cared for her Aunt Eva, his wife, partially due to Nona’s ill-opinion of her, but mostly because Eva spoke of how selfish her mother was for leaving Frank alone with a baby.

“Talk to me, Milena. I know you wouldn't have come if it wasn't important.”

Tony didn't support his older brother’s decision to cut his only daughter out of his life. He’d tried to keep tabs on her, but since Skyla wasn't his biggest fan, she’d made it clear to stay away from her children.

“It is,” Milena moved toward an empty chair in the corner, dropping her tired body into the bright pink fabric. “I need a job. One that pays well and in cash at the end of every day.” She hated the fact she’d reached the bottom, placing her uncle in a position that could get him killed.

“You know, Sweetheart, it ain't right what Frankie did to you.” Tony’s voice resonated the hushed conversation he’d heard from his brother’s men. “Tossing you out like yesterday’s trash,instead of protecting you against the likes of Gulio Cavanagh.”

A shiver ran up Milena’s spine as her uncle dropped the name of the man her father had ordered her to marry. She’d heard the stories, and read the files, about the bastard son of a mob boss from Boston. When she told her father what she knew, he’d accused her of being selfish, ignoring Nona’s demands to leave and come back when he found his senses.

“Nona used to say he loved me in a way only he could understand.”

“Ma was a saint, loved you like she loved your mother, God rest her soul.” Standing to his full height, Tony crossed the room to the desk on the far side of the room. “Be at this address first thing in the morning.” Scribbling some digits onto the paper, Tony felt a warmth in his chest. He would set things straight in the Rossi Family, take them back to the level his father worked so hard to achieve. “I’ll tell my foreman to expect you.”

* * *

“Let me get this straight,”Milena questioned the man who’d introduced himself as Crusher. “All you want me to do is separate these things,” pointing to the stack of rubber tubes on the wooden table. “Into those bins?” Moving to the plastic boxes which looked like oversized milk crates.

“Yes. Think you can handle it, or do I need to find something simpler?”

“No,” Milena retorted sharply. “Just clarifying what you want so you don’t fire me.”

Crusher huffed and shook his head. “We both know that shit isn't happening. I don't understand why you’re here, but I ain't going to question it.”

Milena quietly slipped on the gloves she’d been given when she walked through the gates and began the task of separating the different sizes of tubing. She’d been pleasantly surprised when the address her Uncle Tony gave her turned out to be a scrap yard. She’d been shown where the bath and break rooms were, given a locker with a new lock where she found the gloves and an envelope with her initials on the front. Inside was a thousand dollars in cash, something she’d shoved in her back pocket as if her hacker could find her here.

The work was effortless, giving her the ability to mentally plan what her next move would be. If her uncle continued to pay her a grand per day and if she could remain undetected for three months, she’d have enough cash to move off the grid.

As she tossed the last of the tubing from the table into the correct milk crate, the sun reflecting off the windshield of an approaching car, temporarily blinded her. Shielding her eyes, Milena watched as a familiar man climbed out of the convertible, pushing his sunglasses atop his head as he walked toward her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you.” Hooking his hands on his hips, Bash sent Milena a wink, accompanied by a charming smile.

“Why?”

“To let you know I’ve decided to take your case.”

“I can't afford you.” Shaking her head, Milena pushed back an errant strand of hair tickling her face.

“I’m doing this pro bono.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“I know lots of things about you.”

“Like?” Milena challenged in disbelief.

“Like your uncle owns this salvage yard. And the ancient phone you carry around belonged to your grandmother.”

“How?” Milena shook her head, unable to believe what she’d heard. “Never mind, I don't want to know.” A lesson she learned early on being born into a crime family,

“Here,” Bash held out his hand. “Give me your dinosaur phone?”

Reluctantly, Milena slowly removed the flip phone from her pocket, placing it in Bash’s outstretched hand.

“Here, my number is programmed under voice command. You need me for anything, and I don’t give a shit if it’s three in the fucking morning, you call me. Understand?”

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