Pickpocketing Love

Prologue

Luca – 16 years old

“Go away.” I try to slap the annoying person who is trying to get me out of bed.

“Ouch,” Aurora yells, when my brotherly response hits the mark. “Get up, Luca. We are going to be late. Mom wants me to make sure you are on time for Mass.”

“Stop talking you little brat. Go away,” I growl, pulling the covers over my head and borrow deeper into the feather mattress. She tugs at the blankets and punches me with her tiny fists, doing no damage, but annoying the hell out of me.

“Luca, Mom will lose it if we are late for church again. You’ve been late the last two weeks. Mom, Dad, and Max left a while ago.” Why couldn’t they have left Max here instead of Aurora? He is less of a pain and would gladly skip church with me. Aurora, on the other hand, is the perfect child. She gets away with everything being the girl and being the youngest. Her nine-year-old puppy dog eyes work wonders on my parents. But Max and I get the brunt of our parent’s displeasure. I can’t even be mad at them, because I’ve fallen for her tricks just as often.

“Ugh,” I mutter, throwing the covers aside. “Fine. Give me a second to change.”

Grinning, knowing she has won, she scurries away, leaving to get changed. I open the blackout curtains and my large room is flooded with bright light. I take refuge in my large walk in closet. Digging through my clothes, I find black pants and a button-down shirt. It won’t pass mom’s inspection as suitable church wear, but I don’t have time to be picky. Aurora was right about me being late for church the past two weekends, and if there was a surefire way to get on Mom’s wrong side, it’s being late for Church. It’s almost worse than not showing up at all.

“Shit,” I mumble, checking the time on my cell. Slipping on my shoes, I race down the stairs and find Aurora sitting at the kitchen table, playing with the trim on her light blue dress. Jerking my thumb toward the garage, I say, “Time to go.” I grab my keys off the counter.

Aurora rolls her eyes. “Oh, now you are ready, and I have to rush.” She grumbles but hurries toward the garage, more scared of Mom’s wrath than I am. The garage lights turn on automatically when I open the door, and before me I see our luxury cars lined up in the large six-car garage. I eye the lovely black BMW with tan leather seats that had been my sixteenth birthday gift, and I love it more than I could any girl. It purred and drove like a dream. I’ve only had it a few months and have kept it spotless. An achievement since my room looks like a bomb went off ninety percent of the time.

“Hey. Watch the fingerprints and the windows.” I warn Aurora as she eyes the freshly washed car.

“No fun.”

“You’ll be the one washing it if it gets messed up.” She sticks her tongue out before climbing into the backseat. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I pick up my ray ban sunglasses and back out.

“Dad would not make me wash your car.”

“We’ll see about that,” I warn and watch in the rearview mirror as her fingers fall to her lap. Dad does dote on her, so there is a chance nothing would happen, but the threat worked. No harm, no foul.

Minutes later we pull into the church parking lot. We got here in record time, only breaking a few traffic laws. The light gods are looking after me this morning.

Locking the car, Aurora and I hustle towards the large wooden door at the entrance of the church. The Church is not as massive as some in town, but it’s big enough to make you feel small. It has a small-town church vibe, and everyone knows everyone else, good and bad. More bad in my family’s case, but no one can complain about the regular generous donations from mom and dad. Whispers follow us everywhere we go, but especially here at church. Some of them conceal dark truths, while others are mere speculation. My mother may wish to hide our family’s sins in the most profound parts of her mind, but I prefer to embrace them. She and the rest of the congregation can have the light. I prefer the dark—much more fun.

The place is packed when Aurora and I enter and, as with most Sundays, my parents and brother are sitting near the front, meaning Aurora and I get stares as we walk down the aisle to join them. Slipping past an elderly couple, we sit down next to our family. Max snickers as we sneak in, and I don’t miss the glare my father sends my way. I’m sure he got an earful from my mom about me being late again. The only person who can intimidate my father is his wife. Grown men crumble at his stare, but the moment my mother shows her displeasure, he falls. Mom would never dare miss Sunday Mass, often going during the week as well. She’s taken it upon herself to save us all, I think. I hate to break it to her, but it won’t help. I’d be getting more than my dad’s backhand if I shared that news with her. Her in her flowered dress, and Aurora in light blue, are in stark contrast with the rest of us in dark colors. The Gucci bag hangs elegantly from her shoulder. She can always be counted on to place a couple hundred on the donation tray, which is part of the reason others tend to look the other way on our less-than-saintly lives.

As I settle into my seat I glimpse my family for a moment, we all have the dark hair and eyes inherited from our parents. Aurora is the palest of us all, having our mother’s skin tone. The moment her sun hits her skin, she seems to burn. Max and I got our father’s olive skin tone. Even though Max is two years older than Aurora, she is the more outgoing of the two. As much as it drives my parents crazy, she seems to find herself in trouble as much as I do; she’s just better at hiding it most the time. If my parents knew half the shit she’d pulled, they would have her in boarding school.

“Perfect timing,” I mutter as the service begins, causing Mom to thump me on the arm, hard. Time slows down as the priest speaks, and I drift off into my thoughts, staring at the bright, colorful, stained-glass windows, only feeling slightly guilty by those portrayed in the artwork. I’m supposed to be paying attention to the service, not letting my thoughts wander.

After a while, my right leg taps nervously against the wooden floor of the Church. I don’t dare glance at my watch again for fear of my father’s disapproval. He already gave me a side look the last time I checked, and I knew what would come next. The service has to end soon. It can’t go on forever, no matter how much my mother wishes otherwise. I guess I can’t blame her for wanting her family all together once in a week.

I want to be on time for my date with Sofia. I’ve been working on getting her to go out with me for weeks, which is the longest I’ve ever had to work on someone. Usually, they just fell into my lap with a grin and sigh. But not Sofia; she was no pushover. Or else she was good at the game. Either way, I want to arrive on time. Aurora can go home with the others when Mass is over, and I’ll be on my way. Quickly.

With the final ultimate word, the service is over. I jump to my feet a little too fast for mom’s liking. I feel her furious glare as she slowly stands up, her hands resting on top of Max’shead.

“Luca, for God’s sake. You could have waited for a second before jumping up as if there was a fire. It looks bad. People will talk.” She glances at my father, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and giving me another disapproving look.

“As if they don’t already,” I reply. My smart mouth earned me a smack on the back of my head. It’s not as if I was lying.

Crowds of people make their way out of the Church while smiling and nodding at one another. It won’t be long until we are outside, and then I can make a beeline for my car, hopefully getting out of the parking lot before all the Sunday drivers get behind the wheel.

I swear people are moving slowly today just to piss me off. It’s as if this is the highlight of their week. My highlight will be Sofia, and the very short dress I hope she’s wearing. I sigh in frustration.

“Luca, can we go to the movies today?” Aurora asks, sounding like an average nine-year-old who does not understand why her brother doesn’t have as much time for her as he used to.

“Uh, not today, kiddo.” Seeing my mother’s glare I say, “I’m meeting someone,” adding, “maybe we can pick a time during the week,” hoping that is enough to get back in her good graces.

“Did you finally get that girl to go out with you?” My father asks, chuckling as he checks his phone. The only time he has his phone on silent is in Church. “What’s her name again? Megan, Lisa, Anna, something like that.”

Max laughs. “That was last week Dad.”

My hands tighten at my sides and I lunge, but Mom beats me to it with a slight hit to Max’s side. The little fucker mouths to me, “worth it”. My eyes roll, annoyed, but soon enough, all this torture will be over. Sofia. Short dress. Back of my car. Worth it. Just a little more patience.

I don’t respond to Dad’s question; I’m almost outside. I’ll do a quick goodbye and make it up to them later. Stepping onto the wide stone steps, my hand lifts instinctively to block the bright sunlight. My eyes squint and I can barely see my hand in front of my face, then an all-too-familiar sound fills the air. For a second, everything stops. The gunshot rings in my ears, and my mind tries to catch up to the moment. People throw themself down, and panic and confusion can be heard in the voices screaming all around. I, too, had fallen to the ground, but I do not remember doing so. Maybe someone had pushed me. I hear, more than see, a black car spin away in a rush. Screams fill the air. Right in front of me, I can see my mother has thrown herself over my siblings. They all seem unhurt.

As I look around, I’m aware that my right hand feels sticky. Lifting it from the ground, I see it is covered in blood. I look down and realize I’m fine, in other words the bullets didn’t hit me. So where did the blood come from? It seems to take years to force my eyes to look to the left. A part of me already knew what had happened. Still, all the preparation in the world could not have stopped the shock of seeing my father lying on the ground, just a few feet away. Blood flowed from his chest, pooling on the steps of the church. His eyes are wide as he stares at the wound in his chest. Shock and awe fill his gaze, and it’s as if he can’t comprehend what has happened. Or maybe I’m looking at my reflection in his eyes.

“Dad,” I cry, trying to shift closer to his side. I press my hands against his wound, trying to stop the flow of blood, knowing it is fruitless, but needing to try. Sirens fill the air. People are getting to their feet, and some have moved to stand around us. A couple of people say they have called 9-1-1. Some move away, but remain close to the scene. “It’s going to be okay, Dad. We are going to get you to the hospital. You’re going to be just fine. Okay? Just fine.” I ramble on, trying to comfort him and take charge at the same time. He places his hand above my own on his chest and shifts slightly as blood slips between our fingers.

“You must be strong, Luca. Ruthless. Never let them see your fear.” He mutters, struggling to catch his breath.Each word is an effort. Blood pools at his lips.

“Dad. Don’t worry about that right now. You are going to be fine.”

He shakes his head, and a slight smile rests on his face. I want to ask him why, but I can’t push the question out.

“It will all be yours. Everything. The men will listen… in time. Show them who you are… your uncle.” He gasps for air. “He’ll help…lean on him. Your loyalty is to him and the family…above all else.” I know he’s giving me an order, but it comes out as a plea, and I can feel the strength of his grip weaken. Worry clouds his eyes as he realizes he has much more to say, but time is running out.

A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it, trying to get a grip on my emotions. He cannot die, not like this. I want to rewind time. I want to bargain with whoever is listening to buy more time. I will give up whatever is needed if he can live. I plea to an unknown power to make it so this never happened. I feel my whole future slip away, and there is nothing I can do. My life as I knew it is over. I was supposed to have more time to learn from him. He was supposed to grow old and watch me become the son he knew I would be. This was not to be his end, an end that is coming with each shallow breath he takes. His life cannot end like this, not in an instant.

“Leonardo.” My mother’s voice cries as she tries to get close to her husband. As I try to steady myself, I note all the stares we are receiving, but no one tries to help—his hand slips from mine to rest against my mother’s cheek. A softness enters his eyes that I have never seen before. It was such a rare sight that, at first, I could not come up with a proper name for the emotion lingering in his eyes. I was used to the feelings of rage, annoyance, excitement, and the occasional feeling of pride, but love...never love. I know he loved us in his own way, but he never showed it. The emotions slowly fade from his eyes, and I press tighter against the wound, hoping the outcome will be different.

His head rolls back, and I know he is gone. Everything comes to a standstill. I feel myself stand, then stumble away, people moving aside to let me pass. I do not cry or scream, nor do I feel anything at all. There is nothing but ringing in my ears. I did not just watch him die. This is happening to someone else not me. It’s not me. Not my reality. The ringing of my mother’s wailing invades my mind, but it’s not enough to stop me. The ambulance almost hits me as I stumble into the grassy area at the front of the church—the paramedics shoving me aside jolts me back to reality. Uncle Alessio appears in front of me. For a second, I am confused. He and my father resembled one another so closely they have been mistaken for twins, even though my uncle is two years older. They share the same robust features, same nose, and cheekbones. Dark eyes that take note of everything, the same commanding voice that leaves no room for debate. As head of the family, he was always used to being obeyed. My father was head of Las Vegas only answering to my uncle. For a while they both lived in New York till they got a foot hold in Vegas and my family moved before I was born.

“Get them to the house now,” he tells me, nodding toward my mother and siblings. “I’ve made the calls. When we find out who did this, they will beg for death. For now, get them home.” A sense of more death to come envelopes his every word.

“I...”

“Now, boy! Go.” He shouts, shoving me forward to get my mother and siblings. “I’ll take care of the police,” he whispers from behind.

Max and Aurora are sitting with our mother on the stone planter that borders the front of the church, their eyes wide and unblinking. Stepping between them and the tragic scene, I help my mother to her feet.

“We need to go,” I whisper in her ear. Her head moves in denial. “Now!” I hiss, keeping hold of her. I look at the kids, and they get up and walk instinctively over to the Mercedes. The police sirens grow closer. Keeping my eyes on the road, I don’t watch; I don’t need to. The paramedics have covered my father and put him into the ambulance.

In less than ten minutes, I went from Leonardo Rizzo’s son to being one of the heads of the Italian mob that maintains control over the Vegas strip and surrounding areas. Life has taken a turn, and I would do anything to go back in time and return to the privileged sixteen-year-old I was this morning.

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It’s a beautiful day, and that makes everything worse. My mother has done nothing but cry for the last few days. When she leaves her room, she manages a couple of words before breaking down. Max and Aurora are still in shock, and mostly they sit side by side on the couch while Max plays video games, and Aurora watches him. Neither of them says a word. I don’t know where all the food is coming from, but every time I go into the kitchen new casseroles and plates of desserts have appeared.

I’ve hardly seen my uncle as he is taking care of the aftermath of my father’s death, including hunting down the men responsible. I long for them to be brought to justice, family style. Their end will be quick compared to my family’s misery in the years to come.

My blood boils when I think about what Aurora is going through. She’s had nightmares since that day, and she hugs Max for dear life, rarely leaving his side.

I hate to admit it, but I’ve had my share of disturbing dreams, as well. That day runs on repeat as soon as I close my eyes. Some nights I brew coffee and stay up as long as I can to avoid reliving the moment he died. I’ll never admit that to anyone. My father would beat me senseless if he could. He’d be disappointed in me if he knew how I’ve handled things, so far. He’s seen death more times than I will ever know, and yet it never seemed to affect him. His death is not the first one I’ve witnessed, but I can’t seem to put it in a box. From a young age, he taught me to put everything into a box. When it becomes too much, shut the box, and leave it behind; otherwise, you’ll go insane. I do keep note of who has come to pay their respects, and who has not. The ones who haven’t shown their faces better have a good explanation.

The day of the funeral was as bad as I imagined it would be. Aurora, who is too young to have witnessed the death of her father, cried the whole time. Mother remained trapped inside a mental breakdown. If the funeral had lasted much longer, she may have thrown herself into the casket with Dad. Max stood, silent, with his hands in his pockets, showing no emotion, having retreated into himself. The world could have been burning around him, and he would have flipped it off and kept walking. I didn’t know who to be most concerned about, but have I didn’t have time to concern myself with that. I had a lot of other shit to deal with. It was a nightmare, but I promised myself I would handle it; I didn’t have a choice.

Once the funeral was over and everyone left to attend the reception at the house, Aldo and Dante came to stand with me. We were brothers in all but blood. They’ve always had my back, and I theirs, and I’ve always known where I stand with them. There is something to be said about that in our world. I’ve never doubted their loyalties to the family and me, and not only do I trust them, but I also know they have skills far beyond their ages. We stand, in silence, in solidarity. I harden myself for what my future holds, put my old self into a box, and shut the lid. The kid who partied and paid more attention to women than business is long gone. It was time to grow up and mature the fuck up.

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Authors note: If you enjoy this book, please check out my Dark Legacies mafia series on Amazon.

Book 1 The Lies That Bind

Book 2 Twisted Lies

Book 3 Sweet Lies