MOBSTER’S BABY_Esposito Family Mafia Page 2

  "I could have told you that."

  "But you will get rid of it after you drop it from your violated womb. Until then, you're going to go away—"

  "If you think I'm going to do this, father—"

  "I know you're going to do this, and you will, unless you want me to pull that thing inside of you out myself. You're going to go away until you have this child, you're going to give up this child, to a family that will love it and want it and take care of it, and then you're going to come back, like a dutiful daughter, and we're never going to speak of your little slutty indiscretion again. Do you understand me, Evelyn?"

  I refused to answer him. I had no choice in the matter, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of giving my consent. I didn’t consent. This wasn’t what I wanted. But I knew that it was what was going to happen. My father didn't become governor by being a soft man. I found myself in a position where I loved and loathed the man that he is.

  He shook his head while I refused to answer. He turned to one of his men.

  "I'll arrange a house out of town. No detail left undone. We'll say that she's doing some independent study, maybe throw in some charity work. Luckily I've kept her reputation sterling-silver up until this point; no one will think that she's carrying some mafia bastard in her belly." He then turned to Mary Ann.

  "You'll be going with her," he told her. "You will keep an eye on her, and you will report back to me." Mary Ann nodded as I stared at her. She was an older woman and a little stooped. She has always been nice to me; I never thought that she would go behind my back like this, and the fact that my father was imposing her on me now just made me angrier.

  But, what could I do? I was pregnant, unwed, and my father was going through the biggest election of his life—an election that this baby would ruin.

  What a sad, ironic thing.

  I'd always wanted to be a mother ...

  Chapter Two

  Tony

  "You know we can't do this again, right?"

  "Ha. I mean, we could. But it'd be damn dumb of us."

  "Which is why we can't. I had a good time, though."

  "Me too, sugar lips. Me too."

  I should have kept a number. Gotten an address. Hell, I should have brought her back here to show her a nice week or so of what it would be like letting me at her sweet pussy in a bed instead of in a dirty alleyway. But I had thought that I was making the smart choice when I let that pretty little piece of Brown ass go that night at her daddy's fundraiser.

  I was dead wrong.

  She'd tasted like candy and felt like velvet heaven between her thighs. She’d had a supple body, honey hair, and these pink, pink lips that got all swollen after a cock was in her mouth. I didn’t think I'd ever fucked someone who made me want it so badly again and again, but I guessed that was what I got for sticking my dick in a walking honey pot.

  "Yo. T. Pay the fuck attention. Come on."

  I put out my cigarette and tore my eyes from the television. Honey Pot's daddy—asshole of a governor, Rick Brown—was on it, talking himself up like he was something when everyone knew he wouldn't be shit without a little illegal side action. No matter, though. Less concern I had for that man and more concern for his daughter. Where the fuck was she? No one had seen her in a few weeks. They kept talking about how she was off doing some bullshit charity garbage for her father. I couldn't care less about that shit; I wanted another taste.

  "Allan," I called, turning off the television in the living room and heading out to the front where my boy was waiting for me.

  "Why you keep watching that shit, man? Just listening to that slimy motherfucker talk gives me stomach issues," he joked, bumping his fist against my shoulder and laughing. I shoved him right back. We'd been friends since we were in diapers; it was normal by now.

  "I wanna see where his daughter is," I said.

  "That pretty, blonde honey? With the fat ass?"

  I smacked him.

  "Aye, yeah, that one."

  "You got it in, didn't you? You fucked Brown's baby girl. Shit, man, that's dirty."

  I chuckled as we left out the front door.

  "Well, it was pretty dirty. And she's not that much of a goody-goody girl herself. Fucks like she gets paid to do it."

  He whistled. "Damn, man, you lucky as hell. I can't even get Rosamaria to let me get it wet—"

  "That's because she's sweet on Calcio. You're never gonna get it wet in Rosamaria."

  "You got it wet in Rosamaria!"

  "Yeah, because I have game and you don't."

  We made our way through the compound like this, joking and laughing and all that dumb shit. The compound itself was impressive, with big buildings and plush-ass grass—built from years of blood, sweat, and toil that my family put in raising ourselves from near poverty to the one of the largest mafia families of the west coast. At the head, currently, was my father. Geno Esposito. Every bit of him could be found in every inch of this compound. He was the one who really pushed us to where we were today, and he never failed to remind people of that fact, nor did he ever fail to remind me.

  One day, all this would be mine. One day, he'd know that it was his son and his blood who ruled this mother.

  But until then ...

  "Yo, so T, what you have me going on this field trip with you for, eh? What's the downlow? And why didn't you want me to tell Papa G about it? You know he don't like it when I slip and slide on telling him what's going on. He gets all twitchy and shit."

  "We're looking for someone."

  "Someone?"

  I grinned and looked over at him as I pulled us out of the compound lot.

  "We're looking for a Honey Pot."

  # # #

  I'd been keeping an eye on Rick Brown's campaign for a while, namely at the request of my father. I'd kept an eye on it after seeing his hot piece of a daughter. Now, I'd watched it closer, ever since I got a hit of her, and I intended to find where he was hiding her. He couldn't possibly have found out about us—but hell, even if he had, what the fuck could he do? I'd fuck his pretty, little girl on his desk right in front of his face if I had to.

  'Course, I had to find her, first.

  I drove Allan and I through town, then a little ways out of it. You could get any information you wanted if you paid enough money, and I'd pulled enough cash to pop a nice price on locating Evelyn Brown. Allan seemed to get where we were going as soon as I pulled into the parking lot for Donnie's, a mechanic's shop just on the outskirts of town, before the road hit the desert. It’s another fifty miles before the next gas station, clean place to piss, and roach-free motel to fuck someone pretty in.

  "Dude, you hired Monroe? This Honey Pot that special?"

  "Man, you don't even know," I said. "You don't even know."

  Allan shook his head in disbelief, but he followed me anyway, like he always did; he was loyal like that and would only question me to a certain point. I liked that. There was no one there when we went in, the doorbell dinging pathetically. I leaned on the grimy front counter and waited.

  Monroe came through a few minutes later. He was a big bastard, clearing six feet easily, with long, greying dreads going down his back and a patch over one of his eyes. He used to run with an MC, back in the sixties. Big-ass black man on a bike; he's seen some shit. It was why I gave him so much respect.

  "Tony," he grunted at me, shaking my hand in a meaty grip. "You're here sooner than I thought."

  "You said you found my girl."

  Monroe laughed.

  "Aye, fool boy, I found your girl. One moment."

  He reached under the counter, fiddling around with his eyes. I heard the metallic clank of a file cabinet opening and waited as patiently as I damn well could for him to emerge again with a file.

  "Evelyn Brown," he said. "Daughter of Governor Rick Brown. Last seen publicly at the fundraiser held at the convention center. She's been out of the public eye for a few weeks. They say she's on some charity run."

  "Shit, I
already know."

  "Aye. I dug a little, though. Seems her father's put in a decent bit of cash, setting up residence three counties over. Nice, but not too nice. He’s paid in advance the salaries of a maid, two guards, and an undercover cop to keep a look out on said residence. I may have pulled a few strings and gotten you some pictures you might be interested in."

  It was then that he flips open the file. There were some papers in there, but on top are black and whites of Evelyn entering and leaving a standard house, accompanied by an older woman. She looked annoyed as all hell, but still so fucking gorgeous. The way those lips of hers poked out ...hell.

  "So, what's this all about? She's not on a charity gig, then, obviously."

  "Obviously. I didn't find too much, but I did look into Ms. Brown's financial records and found something you might be interested in."

  "And what's that?"

  "The last purchase she made on her regular card was at a local pharmacy. She bought a pregnancy test.

  Chapter Three

  Evie

  I hated being cooped up. I hated having nowhere to go. Mostly, though, I hated how my thoughts kept going back to him.

  Tony.

  I'd been in exile—because I refused to call it anything but that—for at least two weeks now. My only human company was the woman who betrayed me to my father, and I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me in any state other than angry. When I was alone, however, I found myself sad. Frustrated. Guilty.

  My father ordered me to speak not a word of my pregnancy to anyone, but especially not to Tony. He refused to have any sort of confirmed, legitimate connection made between myself and the father of the little life growing inside me. It caused an argument, one that I had inevitably caved on; I thought that Tony should, at the very least, know that he had a child somewhere, and my father disagrees.

  I grappled with myself. Would Tony even care if he had a child? Would he even want it? Would he think it was his to begin with? So many men denied their paternal links to children who could only be theirs. In all honesty, it wouldn't surprise me. Tony was a mafia boy. Weren't they known for being deadbeats? After all, he had taken me down an alleyway to screw me, without protection.

  Then again, I had let him. So what did that say about me?

  I stood in my shower, thinking this over and finally coming to the conclusion that my thoughts had been pushing and pushing me to since I found out about this accidental little life that I was now carrying. I had pulled some strings, and while I hadn't gotten Tony's number, I did get the number to a bar he and his mafia boy frequented often before I had even found out I was pregnant. In all honesty ...Tony left a very good impression, and I'd started to crack on my 'never again' declaration. I'd at least wanted to see if he wanted another go. Now, it seemed, I'd be using that number for something else.

  When I got out of the shower, I dried and dressed quickly. Hair pristine and clothes comfortable. My father had made it clear that I was to dress as normally and inconspicuously as possible and keep myself from the public eye as much as possible. Out here few people probably know who I was or who my father was. It was what my father would call ‘country.’ When I was done, I came out of my room, immediately greeted by Mary Ann.

  "Are you going somewhere, Miss Evelyn?" she asked.

  "Evie, and I'm just going for a walk," I said, hoping to throw her off my trail.

  "I'll get my purse."

  Seems I wasn't that lucky.

  My father had tasked her with keeping an eye on me, and with making sure that I wasn't trying any "funny business." I guessed that meant making sure that I wasn't going to contact Tony, or the press, or something equally damaging for everyone involved. That is fine, though. There were a number of ways to get Mary Ann off my tail, and I was going to call Tony!

  We didn't drive anywhere. We walked. The car was for emergencies and necessities, such as picking up groceries. I thought my father thought that it was supposed to be a punishment to me, but the joke was on him; I loved to walk, and Mary Ann was slow.

  I didn't set a pace she was easily able to keep up with. We walked down the road, with the house that my father had set up for me being a little out of the way, before ending up in the "main" part of the tiny town.

  "Miss Evelyn!"

  I could hear her panting behind me, struggling to try and keep up with me. I almost felt badly for her, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. She was the reason that I had been put into this predicament, stripped of my agency and my right to privacy from my father.

  My heart raced and adrenaline pumped. I got faster and faster, until I was at a light jog, trotting away from Mary Ann. Her shouts died out as I ran down the main road, turned, ran, then turned again, ditching her as I made my way to a little diner in the heart of the town.

  "Morning, Miss Joan."

  "Morning, Joe."

  The Diner—which was what it was called; not very creative, really—buzzed with the few people who were in it, and I was greeted by the owner as I walked in. Joe was an older man, around the same age as Mary Ann, but I liked him a great deal more. He called me Joan because it was what my father had demanded—that I give people a fake name, so even if they thought they recognized me, I still had some sort of cover.

  "You eating today, sugar? Where's that granny of yours?"

  "Not eating today, no. And she's home, resting. I just needed to use the phone."

  "Take all the time you need, sugar."

  My father had taken my phone before I left. He thought that it gave me too much freedom—freedom that I would "have to earn back, long and hard," according to him. He seemed to not realize there were other ways of getting word out to people, and I hastily made my way to the little payphone in the back of the diner, sliding in some quarters and dialing the number to the bar.

  Ring ... Ring ... Ring ...

  "Come on, come on, pick up ..."

  "Sunsets, what do you need?"

  I jumped at the sound of the voice, embarrassing myself even though I couldn't be seen.

  "Hey, yo, don't tie up my line. What do you need? I got work to do."

  "Yes, right, sorry. I was wondering if I could leave a message for someone."

  "Eh? Message for who, woman? This ain't no call center."

  "Yes, I know, sorry. But I wanted to leave a message for Tony Esposito? I know he goes there a lot and this is really important—"

  "Tony? Aye, yeah, I know Tony. Ain't taking no messages for him. Talk to him ya damn self."

  "Wait, no—" This was likely my one and my only chance to tell Tony about the baby! I couldn't lose this opportunity!

  I heard muffled noises on the other side and felt myself panicking. That was, until his voice filtered through.

  "Hey, who is this? I'm a little fucking busy right now so make it quick—"

  "Tony?"

  There was a pause.

  "Evelyn?"

  "Evie," I corrected. "But. Uhm. Yeah. Hi."

  "Hi."

  He sounded surprised to hear from me, and I couldn't blame him. I was the one, after all, who had told him we wouldn't be seeing each other again. Though I suppose that wasn't wrong—we probably wouldn't be seeing each other again, even if I had gotten the chance to contact him.

  "What are you—shit. I've been looking all over the Goddamn place for you!" he said. I was surprised at the frustration. "I was about to head out—"

  "What do you mean, head out?" Now I was confused. "Tony, listen, we need to talk—"

  "I know about the pregnancy test."

  I was silent.

  "Evie?"

  "How—how did you find out? My father—"

  "Has you shacked up in some tiny-ass town with no way of getting out and about. Yeah. I know. Did you honestly think I was gonna forget about you?"

  "It's what we agreed to."

  I heard him laugh.

  "Baby girl, you let me fuck you like that, there was no goddamn way I wasn't gonna get it again. But then there's t
his baby thing."

  "That's what I was going to call you about."

  "Why didn't you call me before your father sent you off?"

  "I—"

  How was I supposed to answer that? With a you don't know my father? With a this was the only thing I could do? With an I'm scared?

  Those were things I would never admit aloud to Tony, that was for damn sure.