Made (50 page)

"Following me, detective?"

"I was here first."

"This is private property," Corrado said. "You know you need a warrant."

The detective waved at the sidewalk around his feet. "Your boss doesn't own the street."

"My father-in-law, you mean."

He grinned. "Same thing."

"You know this is harassment," Corrado said. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You beat two men unconscious," Detective Walker said. "You assaulted another the same night you murdered a man. If that's not
wrong
, I don't know what is."

Corrado studied the man. He rocked on his heels, his hands in his pockets, not an ounce of fear.
Ballsy
.

"Goodnight, detective," Corrado said.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he replied as Corrado walked away. "And the next day.
And the next day.
And every day after that.
This is the year, Mr. Moretti. The year we stop playing this game."

Corrado walked to the porch and raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could. Antonio stood there, his gaze fixated past him at the street.

"Friend of yours?" he asked, motioning toward the loitering man.

"More like a thorn in my side," Corrado muttered. "He's determined to nail me for something."

"That's that detective?" Antonio asked. "Uh, whatshisname."

"Walker."

"He
still giving
you grief?"

He had been giving him grief for half a decade now. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Handle, huh?" Antonio stared out at the sidewalk. "Yeah, it'll be handled, but not by you."

Corrado nodded as those words sunk in. He would be the first they suspected if anything bad happened to the man. The entire Chicago Police force was aware the detective had made it his mission to bring him down.

"I owe him, you know, for that stunt he pulled at my daughter's wedding." Antonio's gaze shifted back to Corrado. "Speaking of which, you never took her on a honeymoon, did you?"

"I haven't had the time."

"You're supposed to
make
the time," Antonio stressed.

"Yeah, well, my boss is sort of a hard ass."

Antonio clapped him on the back as he led him inside. "Well, I have it on good authority he'll be giving you some time off soon."

Antonio led Corrado straight back to his office.
Business
. At the Boss's command, he took a seat, declining a drink.

"We need to deal with our enemies," he said straightaway, not beating around the bush at all. "I've been trying to take the high road, you know, the Capone way… this city being big enough for all of us… but they're pressing their luck now."

"Sir, they've been pressing their luck for years, since they put three bullets in your chest."

"In my vest, you mean," Antonio corrected him. "And frankly, maybe they were pressing it before then. Sal still thinks most of our problems lead back to the Irish."

"Is that what
you
think?" The only opinion that mattered to Corrado was the Boss's.

"I don't know," he replied. "Sal says maybe they were the ones who killed his family. And maybe they are—I wouldn't put it past them. They kept one of their own in a fucking cage, you know? What kind of savage does that?"

"The kind that needs taken out."

"Exactly," Antonio said. "But I can't stop thinking about this Russian guy and how he factors in."

"I believe someone hired him, sir."

"The Irish?"

"Most likely." The alternate was unfathomable to Corrado.
One of their own?
He couldn't believe it.

"Which is why they need taught a lesson."

"And you want me to do that?"

"First I want you to do something else."

"What's that?"

"Take my daughter on her long overdue honeymoon."

The next few weeks the detective followed Corrado everywhere, popping up all hours of the night. Corrado went about his days, ignoring the man, but he made it impossible to get any work done.

February rolled around, winter fading from Chicago. Corrado drove across town to Dolce Vita Pizzeria and strolled into the restaurant, forgoing his usual table to approach the register. John stood there, ringing someone up. After he cashed them out, his gaze shifted to Corrado, his smile falling. "What can I get you?"

"Large deep dish, extra pepperoni," he replied, pulling out his wallet. "To go."

John rung him up, and Corrado handed him some cash, refusing his change, instead stuffing it in a jar on the counter for a tip. He moved off to the side as John turned to the next customer. "What can I get you?"

"I don't know," the familiar voice said. "What do you recommend, Mr. Moretti?"

Corrado closed his eyes briefly before facing the detective. "I heard the place across the street has good orange chicken."

John seemed almost offended, but the detective laughed. He ordered a small Stromboli and paid before stepping aside also.

"You eat across the street often?" the detective asked.

"You tell me," Corrado said. "You've got my schedule memorized by now."

He had been meticulous the past few weeks, keeping to the most boring routine possible.

"Peculiar schedule you have, by the way," Detective Walker said. "Neither you or your wife hold down a job, yet you seem to have a never-ending cash flow."

"Family money," he replied.

"You should do something with that," the detective said. "Something legitimate. Invest it or something."

Corrado glanced at the man. "Huh, you know, that's not such a bad idea."

His pizza was up shortly. Corrado took it and headed to leave.

"I'll be seeing you around, Mr. Moretti."

Corrado pushed open the door and paused. "Yeah, we'll see."

He headed home with the pizza, finding his wife sprawled out on the couch, flipping through channels with the remote. Corrado set the pizza on the coffee table in front of her as she sat up to make room for him.

"What's on it?" she asked, flipping the top up to eye the pizza. She smiled when she saw the entire pie covered in pepperoni, so thick you couldn't even see the cheese. "Johnny loves me."

Corrado sat down beside her. "
I
bought it."

"But he made it."

"How do you know?"

"Because he knows how I like it."

Corrado's eyes narrowed as she grabbed a slice and shifted sideways on the couch to face him.

"Jealous?" she asked, taking a bite, teasingly.

"Should I be?"

"If you love me."

"Then yes," he said. "I'm burning with envy."

She laughed, shoving him playfully. "I see how it is. Johnny wouldn't mock me that way."

"John wouldn't do anything to you," he replied. "Not if John wanted to live."

Celia rolled her eyes. She didn't laugh. Despite his playful tone, she knew he wasn't joking. "So what did I do to deserve extra pepperoni? I know you prefer eating it with all that other crap."

He shrugged, grabbing a slice.

Celia stared at him in silence, eating her pizza, assessing him. "What's going on, Corrado?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I know you," she said. "You're buttering me up for something."

"I am."

"Why?"

He let out a dramatic exhale. "I have to go away."

She shifted position, sitting straight up. "What? Where?"

"Italy."

She gaped at him. "Italy? Like Italy-Italy?"

"Is there another Italy?"

"Little Italy."

"That's just across town."

"Exactly!" Her voice rose. "That's why I'm hoping you're going there. You can come home at night when you go to Little Italy!"

"I'm not going to Little Italy," he said.

"But… Italy's so far away."

"It is," he agreed. "Far, far away."

"No." She threw her pizza down. "You're not going."

"You're telling me what I can do?"

"Yes."

He stared at her, stunned. "I'll go if I want to go, Celia."

"No, you won't," she said, matter-of-fact. "Not without me."

"Ah." Corrado reached into his jacket, pulling out the envelope and holding it out to her. "Good thing you're invited, then."

All traces of anger melted away as she snatched the envelope from him. "I'm invited?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "Wouldn't be a honeymoon without you."

She tore open the envelope holding the plane tickets and gasped. "We're going to Italy?"

"We are."

"Italy-Italy?"

"The one and only."

She jumped on him, tackling him to the couch as she punched him in the chest, harder than he expected. "I can't believe you did that to me! You made me think you were leaving me!"

Laughing, he grasped her hands. "I'll never leave you."

"Promise?"

"I'll never leave you," he said again, linking their fingers together. "Not if I can help it."

Three days later, the two of them departed for Italy, spending two weeks traveling the country and soaking up the culture. They watched an opera at La
Scala
in Milan, made love on a balcony in Verona, and soaked up the sun floating along the Venice canals. Their time in Florence was filled with architecture, churches and museums, leftover ancient ruins, before they headed further south to Rome.

Rome was the heart of the trip. They spent days immersed in the city, life back in the states a blurry memory.

For the first time in their marriage, it was truly just
them
.

When Corrado awoke their last morning in Rome, sunlight streamed through the glass doors leading outside of the small villa. He lay in bed, stark naked, a flimsy white sheet loosely draped across him. The ceiling fan above him spun round and round, his eyes following the dizzying movement.