Here and Gone Page 2

  Gray moved through the room with barely a glance. I assumed since the desk was empty he didn’t feel the need to stop. Voices drifted out to us from the double doors. Someone with a deep voice was barking orders about what happened earlier today with the jumper.

  I started to slow, but Gray kept plowing forward with me at his heels. I kept close to him to use his height as a shield. I have an aversion to loud people. I just wanted to shush them all the time, but I’ve learned the hard way that people get offended by that. Who knew?

  Gray pushed the doors open further, and I was able to take in the room. I guessed this to be Frank’s office since he stood behind the desk now. His suit jacket was slung over the back of his desk chair, and his shirt sleeves had been rolled up. An unlit cigar graced one hand. It moved through the air as he spoke, jabbing home the points. Up close, Frank was beautiful. Dark blonde hair was smoothed away from his face with pomade, the cut trim and well-kept. He eyes were a warm brown with a hint of defiance. I contained my gasp as I took in Frank’s beauty. It was the only way to describe it. He could easily pass for a model or actor with his looks.

  I pried my eyes away to take in my surroundings. While Frank looked polished and put together, his office was another story. It clearly was worked in and not a showpiece like the reception area. The décor was minimal and functional, but quite large, almost overpowering the room. A bar and seating area took up one side while his desk and two chairs took up the other.

  “Hello, Uncle Frank.” Gray’s voice snapped my head in his direction. This time I didn’t contain the gasp that escaped my mouth.

  A moment ago, Frank’s face had been all hard lines and anger, but the moment Gray spoke a shift occurred. His face softened and relaxed. A genuine smile lit up his face, not the photo-friendly ones from pictures I’d seen online. It made him even more good-looking.

  “Grayden, my boy! I heard you were back in town. Come in, come in.” Frank motioned us forward. “We’ll finish this later,” he said to the woman in the room. I mouthed, “Nice shoes,” as she went by. I could spot a pair of Jimmy Choos from fifty paces, and hers were amazing. I made a mental note to ask her about them later.

  Frank came around the desk to hug Gray. The thumping from his back-slapping echoed in my ears. Frank was magnetic. I found myself taking a step to be closer to him. I wanted to tap on his shoulder so his attention would be turned on me, but was unprepared when it happened.

  “Who is this lovely lady?” Frank’s eyes widened for a brief moment. Almost like he knew me already. Frank held me by the shoulders, keeping me in place. I watched his eyes zig-zag back and forth as he took in my features. Whatever he saw, he must have approved because he gave me a quick hug and welcomed me to the family.

  “This is my fiancée. Regan, meet Uncle Frank. Uncle Frank, Regan.”

  “A fiancée? Does your mother know about this?” Frank waved his hand in the air. “Clearly not or I’d have heard all about it. Good luck breaking the news, kid.” Frank winked at Gray.

  Gray shrugged off the comment. I didn’t know how to feel about it. Obviously, Gray’s mother was going to find me lacking in all aspects, judging by her comments. No sense in worrying about it now. I took a step back and tried to melt into the background. I instantly liked Frank and worried if I’d be able to deliver an unbiased interview with him for the article I was writing. The thought crossed my mind that he would also be judging me nonstop since he found out I was marrying his nephew.

  His nephew?!

  My brain made a loud grinding noise while I tried to figure that one out. How was Grayden Garrett Thomas related to Frank Donato? I didn’t even know Gray was Italian. I needed a cocktail.

  I massaged my temples and tried to focus on what Frank was saying. He hadn’t stopped talking to Gray since I zoned out on the nephew part.

  “...We should celebrate. Dinner? Tonight? I’ll have my secretary set everything up.” Frank walked back around the desk reaching for his phone. “No, not tonight. I can’t tonight. I need to clear up this nonsense with the fellow that jumped. I can’t believe it. God rest his soul. Did you hear about it?”

  “We, unfortunately, saw it happen when we were meeting for lunch out front. Was it an accident? What happened?” Gray asked.

  “We don’t know anything yet. The police are in his suite now with his wife. They’ve thankfully agreed to keep a low profile while here and use the back hallways and exits, but it will still make the news.”

  “Well, all publicity is good publicity...” I trailed off when I caught the shocked looks on their faces. “Just trying to find a positive spin.” I finished with a shoulder shrug. Gray picked up the conversation again.

  “Anyway, we are having dinner tonight with my parents. Another time? We’ll be here for a while.” Gray put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I received the nonverbal message loud and clear. It’ll be fine. I had not, absolutely not, agreed to dinner with his parents.

  “Yes, dinner with the fam. It’ll be great,” I said through gritted teeth. Maybe I could come down with meningitis in the next hour.

  A knock on the door turned my attention. Two men walked in, and I laughed.

  Gray pinched the back of my arm.

  “Ow,” I said while rubbing the spot.

  “Who’s this broad, boss?” the taller one said, jerking his thumb my way. He reminded me of a pencil. He was very tall and thin. I had decided years ago not to trust any man that had a smaller waist size than me.

  “I don’t like her attitude,” the smaller one said.

  The two men looked like caricatures of gangsters to me. Both wore black suits with black ties. The suits were a dated style, but still well-made. The look was very Rat Pack or Al Capone-like. They even sported the greased-back hair and all, which is why I had laughed.

  “Sal, Tony, this is Regan. Gray’s fiancée.”

  Gray nudged me forward with the force of a sledgehammer. I smiled brightly to cover my murderous rage and extended my hand to them. Neither man stepped forward to greet me. My hand wavered in the air awkwardly. I took the snub as a challenge. I was going to stand here with my hand out until one of them shook it or commented on it.

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” I said. I continued to wait with my arm extended.

  Sal and Tony both stared at me for a moment before giving in and stepping forward to shake my hand when Frank cleared his throat, the sound a clear warning to the men. My body wanted to shiver at their touches. Both men gave me the willies, especially Sal, the shorter one. He had hard eyes. Tony smiled at me, but Sal continued to watch me with his dead stare. I decided then and there to avoid them as often as possible.

  “Oh, knock it off, Sal. Regan is harmless,” Gray said. He moved to stand slightly in front of me, his arm draped across my shoulders protectively.

  “Am I missing something?” I whispered to Gray.

  “No, babe. We’ll see you later, Uncle Frank. I just wanted to pop in and say hello,” Gray said. He steered me toward the door, but I looked over my shoulder as we exited.

  As I glanced back, Sal’s eyes locked with mine. His stare didn’t break until the door closed between us. I gave myself a little shake to lose the chill running down my spine before entering the elevator.

  “Only you could have gotten yourself into this mess,” Gray said. “Don’t say anything now. We’ll talk in a minute.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said.

  Gray led us down the elevator, through the casino and back outside. Neither of us spoke the whole time. We stopped along the sidewalk to watch the Bellagio water show again. He said we needed some privacy, but I didn’t know how standing on Las Vegas Boulevard gave us any. I went with it, though.

  “Why are we out here? I need to actually get some work done.” Gray raised a finger, silently asking me to give him a moment. We stood with our arms resting on the railing looking out over the water. The show began but I turned my head to look at Gray.

  “We ne
ed to talk away from the eyes and ears of casino security. You need to watch what you say and do, whenever you are even near a casino,” Gray said.

  “We are near a casino now,” I pointed out.

  “The sound of the splashing water will block out almost anything we say.”

  “Why? This is ridiculous. And what was going on back in Frank’s office? I felt like I was the only one not in on the joke, so to speak.”

  The water show continued in front of us, people in the crowd oohing and aahing over it.

  “It was my mistake, Regan. I already made it clear I think you shouldn’t take this job. I never thought it would be Uncle Frank’s hotel.”

  “Shouldn’t it be a good thing? You know, insider info and all?” I asked, nudging him in the stomach with my elbow.

  “No. You don’t even know what you are getting into and you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

  “Will you just tell me whatever it is?” I put my hands on my hips and gave him a little head shake for emphasis. Gray locked eyes with me before speaking.

  “Uncle Frank is the head of the Bianchi crime family. The mob is still in Vegas.”

  “Uncle Frank? The Don? The big cheese? The...the...Dickweed?”

  “Don’t ever call him that to his face. He hates that name.”

  “Why is he called that?” I asked.

  “The two men you just met are the sons of Antonio Bianchi. He used to own Vegas. He had his finger in every money scheme here. He was a ruthless man, but those two sons are morons. He had another son who disappeared back in the eighties. Everyone assumes he is dead, but no one really knows. With these guys, dead is a safe bet.”

  “You aren’t answering my question,” I pointed out. Gray leaned down even further, our heads almost touching as we talked. To any observer, we were just a couple watching the show.

  “I am. You needed a little background first. Frank was a friend of the sons. He always hung around them but wasn’t ever part of the ‘family.’” Gray used air quotes with his fingers and kept talking. “He’s not even Italian. He changed his name to Donato when he was nineteen.”

  I was hanging on every word. A true-life mob story?! Heck yeah! I zoned out and let the picture of the story unfold in my mind while Gray continued to talk.

  “Because Frank wasn’t Italian, he had to prove himself that much more. Now, you don’t have to be Italian to move up in a crime family, but when Frank and the Bianchi boys were younger, your Italian heritage still meant a lot.

  “Frank followed the Bianchi boys around like their shadows. He mimicked everything they did. Antonio got to calling him ‘Dickweed’ because he was always popping up where even he didn’t want him.

  “Frank was always on the streets hustling scams and money to kick up to Antonio, hoping to prove his worth as more than just a driver. Frank’s goal was to be a ‘made man.’ Antonio let him. Antonio wasn’t about to turn down the extra income, but no one ever thought Frank would actually get anywhere in power in the family. Frank would always just be a part of a street crew. Basically, street crews are the low men on the totem pole. They do all of the dirty work while the ‘made men’ get part of the money. The street crew members in return get the protection of the family name and can work their way up in the organization.

  “The next boss of the Bianchi family was always supposed to be Guy Bianchi, the missing son. He was smart, tough and diplomatic. Guy had everything going for him, but when he went missing and never returned, Antonio had to figure out another protégé. That’s when he really noticed Frank. Frank was everything that Guy was, including loyal. He may not be Italian, but he was what Antonio needed.

  “What do you mean? Everything that Guy was? And, why not the other two?”

  “Guy was a charmer. People naturally liked him and wanted to follow him. He was a born leader. Frank has those qualities, too. Sal and Tony don’t. They both have a dark side that can’t be hidden. I’m sure you felt it.” Gray’s arm tightened around me. “I saw the way you looked at them.”

  “I did. I guess I get it. I would go out of way not to see them again. Go on with the rest.”

  “Antonio started grooming Frank. Frank went everywhere with him, sat in on every meeting, was part of every decision. Antonio made it very clear that Frank was his and everyone would show him respect.

  “That’s it. That is why you need to be careful. If you overhear something you are not supposed to hear or go snooping around, which is exactly what you would do, these people will make you disappear,” Gray said.

  “But how are you related to Frank? You called him ‘uncle.’”

  “We’re not biologically related. He’s a close friend to our family so we’ve always called him uncle.”

  I snorted at the word ‘family.’ It was proving to have too many meanings. The nosy Nellie in me was interested. I wanted to read everything I could on Frank and on the history of the mob in Vegas. I tried to tamp down the urge. I realized Gray was trying to keep me safe by warning me, but his actions seemed otherwise. Why would he take me up into the lion’s den itself if he was just going to warn me away from the story? Why introduce me at all? I wanted an interview with Frank for my article, but in all honesty, I probably would’ve only gotten some time with a PR rep for the hotel. Now Frank was even more likely to notice me because of Gray’s actions. What would be the point? Unless...

  “But how do you fit into this? Frank pointed out I was your fiancée to those men like it meant something. Like a warning almost?” I voiced my thoughts as I had them. “Was it a warning? Were you also warning Frank who I am, too?”

  Gray raised an eyebrow at me, causing me to backpedal as fast as I could.

  “I mean...other than the obvious importance of...just being...your fiancée...I mean. You know? Like it had two meanings.” I tried to dig myself out of the verbal hole I was in.

  “It does. Remember when I told you about the ‘made men’? The mob was built on a weird form of respect amongst each other. The two remaining families here in Vegas still live by those rules. A hit can’t be taken out on a ‘made man’ or his immediate family without the permission of the ‘boss’ of his mob family. My telling Frank, Sal and Tony you were mine set their boundaries regarding you.”

  I slowly put the pieces together. Gray staked his claim on me providing me with protection. I gasped as the dots connected.

  “Are you telling me you’re a ‘made man’? That’s why being with you protects me?” I asked the questions slowly, not quite processing what the implications would mean.

  “No, Regan. It’s worse.”

  “Worse than being a killer for hire?” I asked. Gray stood up straighter waiting for me to catch up with what he was trying to tell me.

  “You’re immediate family? No way,” I said.

  “Way.”

  Chapter Three

  Gray gave me exactly five minutes to process the news that his family was mob-related before he walked me back into the hotel and proceeded to show me all he knew. I decided to reserve judgement on Gray’s bombshell until I had a chance to further evaluate the information. The idea of Gray’s father, Michael, being a crime boss was throwing me for a loop. He exuded kindness and warmth. I looked forward to hugging him hello whenever I saw him and being enveloped in him. Michael had a way of making you feel protected. Like nothing could ever happen to you. Gray was similar in that way but I knew Gray could be dangerous. Michael? I was having a hard time believing. My mind played devil’s advocate, pointing out Gray’s tough streak would have to come from somewhere. Of course, the somewhere could be his mother. Mary Francis was a force to be reckoned with. I’d seen servers shake when her glare was turned on them for any perceived mistake, like clearing her plate from the wrong side. She could make a rattlesnake second-guess biting her.

  I followed Gray blindly. My hand loosely held in his while he guided me along. Gray had many aspects from his dad and not many of his mother’s. Thank God. If he had, we wouldn’t still be together
after five years. I had an inkling Gray was sharing the information with me only because he wanted me to be leery and afraid instead of more curious and nosy.

  “Just walk and look around like a tourist. I’ll point out what you don’t see,” Gray said.

  I looked around the entrance to the casino. To me, it looked like every other casino in Las Vegas. The standard tourists were present; the group of women on a girls’ trip giggling at every chance, the heroin-chic guy wearing a wife-beater and smoking a cigarette while playing a penny machine, and the Midwestern couple in tennis shoes, wearing fanny packs. Stragglers and loners were dotted between the groups. To me, Vegas was just a repeat of the same stereotypes over and over again. There was no real heart or substance to it.

  “How do you know what to ‘see,’ so to speak?” I asked. Gray led us to a bar area situated in the middle of the chaos of machines.

  “I am not going to dignify that with a response. Look to your right. See the woman sitting at the bar alone?” Gray said.

  “The one sipping her cocktail and leaning her back to the bar?” I asked after peeking out of the corner of my eye. The woman looked to be in her early to mid-twenties wearing heels and a black wrap dress. Her outfit was nice, but didn’t stand out, even amongst all the fanny packs. She leaned against the bar watching the crowd. There was nothing special about her, in my opinion. She was pretty, but I wouldn’t remember her enough to pick her out of a lineup later.

  “Yes. That one. She’s a prostitute, or a ‘pro’ as they are called here. I’m guessing she is given a room upstairs daily. She takes her clients up, services them, cleans herself up and then comes back down to find her next one. The maids change the sheets while she’s gone.”