Ties That Bind Read Free Page B

patience had met its end. “Time to move on.”
    “You sure you’re ready for that?”
    Mitch laughed. It wasn’t as if the IOC ever cared whether he was ready or not. He learned long ago that determining his own schedule was the only way to survive within the IOC. If he didn't have such deep seated connections to the mob, they would have sent him packing years ago for his flagrant disregard for their rules. Now he only chose the assignments he wanted to...and those were getting fewer and fewer as the years went on. “When are you going to ever get another opportunity like Ashli Vinetti knocking on your door, Mike?”
    His answer was almost inaudible...but just almost. “When indeed?”
    Mitch whirled on him. “What does that mean?  What aren’t you telling me?”
    “It’s nothing, Mitch. If you want Vinetti, I know better than to argue with you over something like that.”
    “Mike-” Mitch was over him now, his tall, muscular frame easily dwarfing his superior. He put his hands in his pockets, hoping not to look quite as menacing as he knew he probably was. It wasn’t intentional – he just hadn’t been able to knock the edge off since hearing the gruesome details of Coppell’s death…and knowing it could have easily been prevented. He offered a half smile but Mike was already backing away from him. “Look-”
    “Just forget it,” he raised his hands, palms facing forward. “Did you know James Vinetti killed a guy the other night?  He’d been with him for years.”
    “I’d imagine Vinetti’s killed lots of guys, Mike.”
    “This one had copped a plea with us. He and his girlfriend have been missing for days now. They were about to be relocated when some of Jimmie’s men nabbed them.”
    Mitch shrugged, cataloging the information in his brain but then dismissing it. “That’s what they get for copping a fucking plea and not high tailing it out of town. Did they expect Jimmie to just sit back and wait for the subpoenas to start rolling in?”
    “He’s a loose cannon,” Mike grumbled and tossed Mitch his coat, “and you have one screwed up way of looking at things.”
    “I look at things in whatever manner keeps me alive, Mike. Nothing more sadistic than that.”
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Soft red lights flickered overhead, blanketing the bar area of Russo’s restaurant in a cloudy haze perfect for imbibing in an enormous amount of alcohol. Undoubtedly, that was what the owner Vitale Russo had counted on when he planned the upscale establishment. He’d even thought to lay an iridescent marble floor to enhance the bar’s dreamy feel. To Mitch, it seemed more like a scene out of bad sleaze flick.
    “Hey, Vitale, you ever think of springing for some decent lighting in this place?” he asked, sinking down at the corner of the bar.
    “Mr. Kerlin, welcome. It’s good to have you back in the States.” Vitale dropped his apron and shook Mitch’s hand, grinning widely.
    “It’s good to be back. I spent much more time up north and I’d lose my citizenship, I think. Damned desolate place that Canada.”
    “What can I get for you tonight?  Just visiting the neighborhood?”
    Mitch raised an eyebrow… there was no way Vitale didn’t know that he and the Vinettis were having dinner at his place. Vitale prided himself on knowing everything worth knowing that happened in a ten block radius. “Give me a whiskey sour, would you?”
    “Sure,” he nodded and started pouring the drink before dropping his voice. “So you and Vinetti, hm?”
    “It’s just dinner, Vitale,” he laughed. “You’re as bad as the ladies down at the corner grocery, you know it?”
    “Pays to be informed around here, Mr. Kerlin. You know that.”
    “Alright, I’ll bite,” Mitch chuckled and traded the glass Vitale offered for a fifty-dollar bill. “What’s newsworthy these days?”
    “These days?” he leaned over the bar, closer to Mitch. “Vinetti, of course. He’s taken over