Return to the Mob (Detroit Mafia Romance Book 6) Read online

  Detroit Mafia Romance Book 5

  Controlled by the Mob

  by

  Tami Lund

  Cover Artist: Rebekah Ganiere

  Editor: Julie Sturgeon

  Published by: Tami Lund

  Copyright: 2021 by Tami Lund

  License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

  Thank you for your support.

  All entities, locations, businesses, etc. in this book are strictly figments of the author’s overactive imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Questions, comments, or desires to seek permission to use any part of this book for your own purposes should be directed to [email protected].

  RETURN TO THE MOB

  Detroit Mafia Book 6

  Marco Romano is a former Navy SEAL with a habit of saving people from the mob and then helping them to disappear.

  Until the mob catches up to him.

  Now he’s desperate to avenge his parents’ death, but more importantly, he needs to protect his baby sister.

  Because his estranged aunt wants to take his sister away from him—the only family she’s ever known.

  Marco will be damned if he’ll let that happen.

  Now he needs to win a custody battle, and the only way he can is if he looks respectable on paper. How can he do that?

  By finding a good girl and convincing her to marry him.

  Or at least pretending until the custody papers are signed.

  Now his problem isn’t taking care of his sister or even taking down the scum who killed his parents. No, now his biggest problem is convincing himself he’s not in love with the woman who agreed to be his fiancée.

  Despite her best intentions, Hillary Karney’s had one too many brushes with the mob. So what the hell is she doing back in Detroit, where it all started? And she’s hanging out with Marco Romano, no less, a man whose picture is probably in the dictionary under “caveman.” He wouldn’t know good manners if they slapped him in the face.

  And now he wants her to help him win custody of his sister?

  Of course she’s going to say yes; saving women from the mob is what she does. She’s built an entire career around it. But she’s not going to make it easy on him. She agrees—with a stipulation.

  She’s going to teach him how to be a gentleman. He’s going to have to develop manners, common courtesies… and when she’s done with him, some lucky girl is going to snag herself a hell of a catch.

  Too bad it won’t be her.

  Detroit Mafia series, in reading order:

  Paid by the Mob

  Trapped by the Mob

  Freed from the Mob

  Destined for the Mob

  Born into the Mob

  Controlled by the Mob

  Return to the Mob

  Destined for the Mob, book 3.5, is available free if you sign up for Tami’s newsletter: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/c65ydfueub

  Chapter One

  Marco Romano was tucked into a corner, holding up the wall, obscured by a potted palm and the cloak of grief draped over the room.

  Uncle Frankie stood at the door, greeting guests, doing the job Marco was supposed to do since he was next of kin and an adult. His little sister Julia was too young to be responsible for anything. Hell, if he had his way, she wouldn’t even be here.

  But Uncle Frankie had insisted. “She’s twelve. She knows what death is. And if she doesn’t say goodbye, she won’t have closure.”

  Closure. How did a twelve-year-old close the chapter on her fucking parents’ lives? They were too young to die. Julia was too young to not have parents.

  Marco was too young to take responsibility for his sister’s life.

  He wasn’t, though. He’d just turned thirty-three years old, for Christ’s sake.

  He stared over the heads of the crush of mourners at the two matching caskets at the front of the room and imagined that it weren’t his parents he was here to grieve but someone else’s. Anyone else’s.

  Which was shitty of him, but he couldn’t help it. His parents hadn’t been part of this turf war with the Armenians. They were “collateral damage.” It was an accident.

  So the Armenians insisted when Uncle Frankie and his crew had stormed over to their headquarters and demanded retribution.

  Something touched his hand, and Marco glanced down at his baby sister, with her glossy dark hair and pretty navy dress with the white piping. Her eyes were shiny and she held a crushed tissue in her left hand. She slid her right hand into his and squeezed.

  It felt like she was squeezing his heart.

  “Hey, Peanut.”

  That earned him an eye roll. Marco had gone to the ultrasound appointment with his parents after they’d learned Mom was pregnant, and when the technician pointed at the baby on the screen, Marco had exclaimed, “It looks like a peanut.”

  And poor Julia was saddled with a nickname, probably for life.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked, staring up at him with big, brown eyes. She was a younger version of their mother; he’d always vaguely realized that, but today it hit him like a blow to the gut.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  She shrugged, far too adult-like for her age. “Kids handle grief different than adults. We compartmentalize it so that we can function, because our brains aren’t able to process it. Someday I may have issues related to this, but that probably won’t happen until I’m in my twenties.”

  Marco stared at her. “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Google.”

  He swiped his free hand over his face. Julia was a voracious learner, had always asked a million questions practically from the moment she could talk. Their parents had replied, “I don’t know, let me Google it,” so often that Julia eventually began going straight to the computer for her answers.

  “Well, what’s Google say about me? How am I supposed to deal with all this?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll check later, when I’m in front of the computer. Uncle Frankie says you aren’t doing very well though.”

  Uncle Frankie needed to stop treating Julia like an adult.

  Or maybe Marco needed to stop treating her like a child.

  “Well, I did just lose my parents unexpectedly.” And in a way in which they should not have died, but he didn’t add that. He doubted Uncle Frankie had explained the circumstances surrounding their deaths to Julia.

  Okay, he hoped not.

  She was even more shielded from that arm of the family than his parents had been. She’d been born after Gino Sarvilli died, after the Detroit mafia disbanded. Until three years ago, there had been nothing but minor skirmishes here and there, no real organization to speak of anymore.

  But then Nina Sarvilli, Gino’s only heir, returned to town after having disappeared seventeen years prior, and the shit hit the fan.

  And it just kept falling, like a flock of seagulls were perpetually flying overhead.

  Marco had been under the delusion that the war was over after Nina and his cousin Luca secretly spirited out of town and disappeared.

  Except Davit Grigoryan’s obsession, Shannon Williams, had disappeared at the same time. And when she surfaced a year later, Marco had helped her vanish again, hopefully for good this time.

  He needed to quit playing savior, because he knew damn well those actions were what got his parents kill
ed.

  Fucking Davit.

  “Ouch.”

  Marco forced his grip on Julia’s hand to relax. “Sorry.”

  “Luca!” Julia tugged her hand free and bolted away. Marco watched as she rushed up to his cousin and flung herself into his arms.

  Holy shit, Luca had come back for the funeral. And he brought his new wife, Nina.

  And Nina’s adopted sister, Hillary Karney.

  Marco’s gaze immediately zoned in on Hillary. The redhead with the bright blue eyes and tall, slender body. The redhead who, like his sister, had a thirst for knowledge, as her multiple degrees attested to.

  The redhead who was one of the single most frustrating individuals he knew and yet starred rather frequently in his fantasies.

  He followed Julia at a much more sedate pace to greet the group. “Hey,” he said, hugging his cousin and, for the moment, ignoring the two women with him. “You came.”

  “Of course we did,” Luca said, and he squeezed Marco’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, man.”

  “Me too, and considering the cause of their deaths, seems like a bad idea for you guys to even be in town. Especially you.” He nodded at Nina, who, he noted, had dyed her hair auburn. She and Hillary weren’t blood related, but with her hair like this, they could pass for biological sisters.

  “We drove instead of flew,” Nina said, and then she patted her red locks. “I think I did a pretty good job of not looking quite so…Sarvilli.”

  “Yeah, I never knew I had a thing for redheads,” Luca quipped, and then his tone turned serious. “No way I wouldn’t be here for you right now, Marco.”

  “And I refused to let him come alone,” Nina added.

  “What about you?” Marco asked, finally acknowledging Hillary.

  She cleared her throat. “I…had time on my hands.”

  Liar. She liked to tease her sister about her inability to lie well, but Hillary wasn’t much better at it.

  “We’re planning to take off as soon as the luncheon is over, unless you need us to stay,” Luca said.

  He wanted Hillary to stay, but his reasons had nothing to do with his parents’ death. Or maybe they did. Hanging out with her, verbally sparring with her, maybe even doing more with her would definitely take his mind off his grief, if only temporarily.

  But he shook his head. The sooner they got out of town, the better. Hillary wasn’t connected to any of the shit with the Armenians, and they wouldn’t know her from Adam, but it was definitely dangerous for Luca and Nina to be in Detroit, Nina’s new hair color be damned.

  Still, he was admittedly glad to see them for a few hours.

  “You look so pretty,” Julia said, gazing up at Hillary, who smiled and cupped her cheek.

  “Thank you, sweetie. How have you been?”

  Back in February, Nina and Luca had tied the knot at a small, exclusive resort in Mexico. Julia had been thrilled that she’d gotten to take a week off school so the whole family could be there. And while Hillary had done her damndest to avoid Marco all week, she’d somehow managed to bond with Julia, who had not understood why she could not keep in touch with the beautiful redhead after their vacation had come to an end.

  “I was fine,” Julia said, “until, you know…”

  Hillary pulled her into a hug and pressed her cheek to his sister’s hair. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  Hey, Marco had lost his parents too. How come he didn’t warrant a squeeze like that?

  Hillary glanced up at him, offered him a watery smile.

  He’d rather have a hug.

  A sound caught his attention, and Marco glanced toward the entrance to the church. A man and a woman stood there, both familiar, although the woman was obviously wearing a wig. Well, it was obvious to Marco, since he knew who she was.

  It was his best friend from high school, Leo Beneventi, and his wife, Shannon. They’d escaped this life, had started a new one over the pond in England.

  He and Leo, using fake names, kept in touch through a secure website, so Marco knew they’d gotten married and that Shannon was pregnant, although it was still weird to see her in person, with a rounded belly instead of the svelte figure that had served her well back in the days when she’d been a stripper.

  Marco strode toward them, staring at Shannon’s baby bump, until he grabbed his friend around the neck and pulled him close. Leo embraced him, his hand twisting into Marco’s suitcoat.

  “I’m so sorry, man,” Leo whispered. “Shannon says this happened because of her. She’s been eaten up with guilt. She’s—”

  Marco pushed him to arm’s length and cupped the back of his neck, stared into his eyes, and said, “This is only one person’s fault. And that person is not in this building. He’d probably fucking explode into a ball of fire if he stepped a single foot into a church.”

  He turned to Shannon and pointed at her abdomen. “You probably shouldn’t have even made this trip in your state.”

  She rolled her eyes and cupped her belly. “I’m only five months along, and I’ve had no issues so far.” She glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye. “And we couldn’t not be here for you. Especially after all you’ve done for us.”

  He appreciated the sentiment, he was glad for the support, but having his cousin and closest friend here was nerve-racking. What if Davit figured out they were in town? Marco couldn’t handle any more death right now.

  “Who knows you’re here?” he demanded.

  Leo shook his head. “I didn’t even tell my parents.”

  That was good, since Leo’s younger brother used to hang with Davit. They’d had a falling out at the same time Marco had helped Leo and Shannon disappear, but Max had a habit of mingling with shady characters, so it wouldn’t surprise Marco in the least if he had forgiven Davit. And Davit was plenty asshole enough to pretend to be Max’s friend for no other reason than to keep tabs on his family.

  “Someone else now knows,” Shannon murmured, and Marco glanced over his shoulder to check out what she was looking at.

  Luca, Nina, and Hillary were all heading their way.

  “This should be interesting,” Shannon said, patting her perfectly coifed wig.

  “Wow,” Nina said. She nodded at Shannon’s belly. “Congratulations. When are you due?”

  “End of January.”

  Three years ago, when Nina unexpectedly popped into town looking for closure, she’d ended up with a price on her head.

  Shannon had secretly helped her and Luca escape both the Italian and Armenian mobs. The problem was, Shannon had been managing Luca’s nightclub at the time but was really working for Davit, spying on Luca. Apparently, the fact that Davit had forced her to do it did not matter to Luca, judging by his narrow eyes and the rigid set of his jaw.

  Marco clapped his hand onto Luca’s shoulder. “Not here, man. Please.” He rarely said please, and it jarred Luca into relaxing his stance.

  Uncle Frankie stepped up and shook his head. “You people are all idiots.” Obviously, Nina and Shannon’s disguises hadn’t fooled him. “Although I’m sure Marco appreciates your support.”

  He embraced Luca and shook hands with the rest of them and then patted Marco’s shoulder. “Service is starting soon. We need to get ready to walk in.”

  Marco didn’t want to. This was the closure Frankie had been talking about. If Marco entered the chapel, he’d have no choice but to say goodbye to his parents.

  For the last time.

  A hand slid into his, and he glanced to his right. Julia looked up at him, tears dribbling freely down her cheeks.

  Another hand slid into his left one, and he turned, expecting Aunt Dee, Frankie’s wife. Thank God they’d taken Marco and Julia under their wings in the last few days. He’d be lost without their guidance right now.

  Except it wasn’t Aunt Dee holding his hand.

  It was Hillary.

  He stood there, staring at her, until she gave him a watery smile. And then she tugged on his arm and nodded at the sea of
faces, all watching, waiting for him to start the processional into the chapel.

  He focused on her, ignored the rest of them, and allowed her to propel him forward.

  To say goodbye.

  Chapter Two

  The funeral luncheon was held at the Italian restaurant Marco’s parents owned. It was also where they’d met. The deed had been signed over to them by his mom’s parents shortly before Marco was born.

  Marco’s parents had never been directly involved with mob business, but his mother was related, and therefore protected, through her older brother, Frankie.

  Which meant today, for this funeral luncheon, the place was crawling with mafioso types, and Marco had no doubt every one of them was packing underneath their impeccable Italian suits.

  The Armenians would be raging idiots to make a strike here today. Yeah, they claimed Marco’s parents’ deaths were an accident and it wouldn’t happen again, but no one actually believed them.

  Although Marco kind of wished they would strike right now, because he was itching for a fight. He’d not gotten involved in mafia dealings until three years ago, when his cousin Luca had asked him to help rescue Nina from the Armenians who had kidnapped her, but he couldn’t deny the adrenaline rush he’d felt in the moment.

  He’d never considered joining that life; instead, after graduating high school, he’d enlisted. Became a Navy SEAL.

  And experienced shit that would make these mafia goons lose their collective lunches.

  “Here.” Aunt Dee pushed a plate into his hand. It was loaded with the usual funeral fair: mostaccioli, baked chicken legs, a couple celery ribs, and of course, Jell-O.

  He placed it on the bar and lifted a lowball glass to his lips. Jamison, on the rocks. His preferred after-funeral meal. Actually, it had become his preferred meal period since he got the call about his parents’ death.

  “Eat,” she commanded, pointing at the plate.

  Marco sighed, grabbed a chicken leg, and tore off a chunk of tender, dark meat. It was easier than arguing with his aunt.