Cruel Betrayals (Savannah Sharks Hockey and Mafia #3)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

JOSEPH

Coach Bobby stands up at the front of the bus and addresses us as we finally arrive at the hotel after fighting through miles of traffic.

“Okay, guys, rest up, get some food, and be ready to head back to the arena in three hours for the game.”

The guys head upstairs to their hotel rooms to order room service, shower, and nap while I head outside to meet my driver.

I’m using this away game in Florida to meet with a potential business partner. He has more demand than he can keep up with, but he needs more capital to make the product.

We need to expand to a new market since we are constantly fighting with Rossi and the Reapers.

I greet my driver, Mr. Eastly, before getting into the back seat of the fully blacked out car. Mr. Eastly is the personal driver of the Valentino family. He doesn’t speak as he drives me across town to the restaurant where the meeting will be taking place.

When we arrive, I am escorted inside the elegant seafood restaurant to a private room. We pass several patrons who eye me suspiciously. Two men in all black suits stand as Mr. Eastly and I approach.

I reach out to shake the older man’s hand before shaking the younger man’s hand.

“Mr. Marino?” The older man asks.

“Yes sir, but please call me Joey or Joseph.”

“Joey it is. I’m John Valentino, and this is my son, Nicholas.”

“Nick.” He corrects his father.

“It’s nice to meet you both.”

From the research I’ve done, John is the same age as Dad and Nicholas is a couple of years older than me.

The Valentinos dabble in everything. They have been convicted of drug trafficking, prostitution, gambling, money laundering, and protection racketeering.

John gestures to the table. “Shall we sit and eat while we discuss business?”

“That sounds great. I’m starving.”

Nicholas takes the seat next to his father. “So, how do you manage professional hockey and running your family business?”

He looked into my background the same way I looked into his and his family’s background.

“It’s tiring, but we have systems in place to make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible. Plus, my father is always there to keep things running.”

John gives me a questioning look. “He doesn’t travel with the team?”

“He’s not an athletic trainer, reporter, or coaching staff, so there’s no point in him traveling with us. He has other businesses to run and, of course, acquire while I’m gone. Then I get to spend the next few days filling out all the paperwork.”

We share a laugh as the server brings us all a glass of ice water and a chef salad.

Needing to know more about their operation, I ask, “If you don’t mind, can you tell me a little more about what you guys have going on down here?”

The two men share a glance before John speaks. “You should know, we are new to Florida. Most of our businesses are in New York. The family still lives there and handles the day to day. Nick and I moved here in hopes of bringing businesses down here for my retirement.”

This is not what was discussed during the preliminary meeting over the phone. Dad would never have sent me out of the way to meet with someone who is just starting over.

“Do you have any businesses started down here? How established are you two in the community?” I try to keep my voice calm and respectful, but I need to know where they stand.

Nick grabs a folder from the table behind him. “We have this restaurant and two clubs. One is downtown and the other one is at the oceanfront. They are showing progress and are on track to be very profitable, but we aren’t there yet.”

I take the offered folder and flip through their financial sheets. Dad will want me to verify their numbers and make sure the profit/loss sheet is as accurate as it can be, but there’s something promising about starting in a new market.

John clears his throat. “We know it’s a lot to ask for a partnership with us, but we already have clients here begging for more. We have already discussed negotiations with the mayor and the police chief.”

I put the folder to the side and take another bite of my salad. I can look over their paperwork later tonight after the game. “How much product did you come down here with initially, and what were you selling?”

“We came down here with ten thousand ecstasy pills that sold out within two weeks. Our strategy was to start with the clubs and grow from there. It worked for us in New York, so we gave it a shot down here.”

Club goers are the easiest customers to start with. They are more open to taking recreational drugs to enhance their night.

Nick chimes in. “We had to ship another ten thousand pills down here to keep up with demand. We are down to our last two hundred, though, and when they run out, we are finished. If we had more capital right now to buy a warehouse to produce our own, we will see bigger profit margins.”

“Do you have a warehouse already or are you still in the pre-purchase stage?”

Nick waves over the server before saying, “We have a meeting with a real estate agent later this afternoon to look at our top three choices. My favorite pick is the most expensive, but it has intercoastal water access and more privacy than the other two.”

The server takes our empty salad bowls and refills our waters.

John adds, “That one is a huge liability because it’s almost double the price, and it’s further from any of our other businesses.”

“I understand your hesitation based on the price, but water access is a huge perk. If we partner with your family, we can send product from our cargo ships down here to you, and vice versa.”

Our wine glasses are filled as several servers bring large platters of seafood.

The first platter is full of pasta in a garlic butter sauce, another is piled high with lobster tails with clarified butter, and a third is full of steamed mussels, clams, and oysters.

After making sure we don’t need anything else, the servers leave the three of us alone.

“This looks and smells amazing.” My stomach growls in agreement.

“Let’s eat, enjoy the food, and table the heavy talk for now. You can look over the folder when it’s convenient, and we will answer any questions you or Arturo have.”

We raise our wine glasses in a toast before taking a sip. The citrusy flavor explodes on my taste buds. It’s been a while since I’ve had wine, but I’m not one to refuse when another family is being hospitable.

We load up our plates and dig in. I don’t like eating in silence. It reminds me of the nights when Dad would come in looking haunted.

That was before I knew what really went on. Before I knew the horrors that came with this lifestyle.

“So, Nick, are you planning on staying down here, or are you moving back to New York?”

Nick’s expression changes. Gone is his carefree smile and in its place is a hardened, blank slate.

I shouldn’t have pried, but it was an honest mistake. John said this operation was for his retirement. How was I supposed to know there were bad feelings mixed in?

“I haven’t decided. It was supposed to be a temporary move. I was going to help Dad get set up and established down here and then go back to New York and run things up there.”

“I can understand the indecisiveness. It’s important to make sure your established businesses don’t fall through. Over the past few years, I’ve thought about moving back to New York over a dozen times, but my hockey career is in Savannah.”

If we are going to partner with the Valentinos, they need to be transparent with their intentions. I’m not one to beat around the bush, especially when my family name and reputation are on the line.

“What about when your hockey career is over or if you get traded?”

I won’t be traded off the team. Neither will Rhett, Spencer, or Gage, but I can’t tell him that.

“When I’m done with hockey, because I retire or any other reason, I will assess business and go from there. It also depends on a lot of other factors.”

I don’t explain those other factors, but the biggest one is dependent on what happens with Giuseppe Rossi.

The topic of our conversation changes to a much lighter tone. We talk about sports for a little while before talking about family traditions.

John laughs and says, “I just hope that Nicholas is happy, successful, and meets a great woman to settle down with.”

I’m reminded of my childhood. Francesca and I spent the evenings talking with Dad and Uncle Tony about our futures and their hopes for us.

Dad used to say the same thing. He wanted me to meet a nice Italian woman and settle down and start a family of my own.

Little does Dad know, I’ve already met the woman he hoped I would find.

Alexandra.

My body craves her, needing to be close to her. I need to see her.

I crave a future with her.

Fuck, I’m stupid.

Nick’s voice drags me out of my thoughts. “Dad, I’m still young. I have plenty of time to meet a woman and settle down.”

I chuckle. “You’re older than me, so if you still have time, then there’s still hope for me.”

John frowns. “There’s no woman waiting for you back home?”

“Waiting for me? No.”

Alexandra isn’t waiting for me to get back home. Not after the way I left things.

He tsks. “That’s a shame.”

I shrug, not wanting to open Pandora’s box. “The right woman will come along at the right time.”

When we are finished eating, the servers remove the dishes from the table, leaving just our water and wine glasses.

John greets Mr. Eastly as he steps into the private room. “Is everything alright?”

Mr. Eastly blushes. “Yes, sir. I was informed to let Mr. Marino know it is time to head back to the hotel. His team will be expecting him shortly.”

I place my napkin on the table and stand. “Ah, yes. Thank you.”

Turning toward the men, I stretch my hand across the table to give each of them a handshake.

John shakes my hand and says, “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“You, too. I’m sure we will be speaking again soon.”

Nick adds, “Let me know if you need anything, and I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

I’m sure what they already gathered, plus what information I can dig up will be enough.

“Thank you for the meal. It was delicious.” I say before I walk over to where Mr. Eastly is waiting for me.

I follow him outside to his car. He opens the door for me before closing it after I am settled inside.

I don’t normally like having a private driver, but today, with my mind preoccupied with Alexandra, it’s a welcomed privilege.

Speaking of Alexandra, I grab my phone and dial her number.

It rings several times before her voicemail picks up.

“I’m sorry to have missed your call. If this is urgent, please call me at the office. If not, please leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

I end the call and immediately hit the redial button. Once again, the call goes to her voicemail. I end the call before I hear her voice again.

Why isn’t she answering? She knows I’m meeting with potential business partners. She should be near her phone today.

Is she not answering because I’m the one calling?

I type out a text before erasing it. Starting over, I send a nicer message first.

Just met with the potential business partners, give me a call so I can run some ideas past you before I meet with Dad.

I leave it at that while Mr. Eastly drives me back to the hotel. He parks right next to the charter bus.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Marino. Here, take my card. If you are ever back in town, give me a call, and I’ll drive you around.”

I take his business card and get out of the car just in time to see Rhett and Spencer walking out of the hotel.

“What’s going on?” I ask when I get closer to them.

Rhett glances at Mr. Eastly’s car. “Have you heard from Alexandra today?”

I frown.

Why would he ask me that?

“No. What’s going on?”

Rhett runs a hand through his hair. “Francesca gave her the extra key to her apartment, but she said she hasn’t moved in yet.”

Is this seriously what they are worried about?

“Alexandra said she was moving in this weekend. She could be at home packing for the big move tomorrow.”

“So you haven’t heard from her today?”

“No, but I was just in an important meeting. Besides, it’s not like I talk to Alexandra every day. She’s my father’s assistant, not mine.”

They stare at me as if they don’t believe what I’m saying.

I don’t talk to her every day, but I try my damndest to at least lay my eyes on her.

An image of her wearing that short tight skirt she loves to wear around the office flashes in my mind.

That skirt and her tight white blouse always make my dick hard.

Like it is now.

The main doors to the hotel open and our teammates flow out and head toward us with Coach Bobby in the front.

“Get on the bus. You can finish your gossip while we are stuck in traffic.”

I roll my eyes as Rhett laughs. “He’s a smartass, but he’s right. We can talk on the bus.”

We get settled in our seats at the back of the bus.

Their concerns leave me worried about Alexandra, so I send another text.

How’s the packing going?

I wait a few minutes before sending another message.

Please call or message me and let me know you are safe. The guys and Francesca are worried that you haven’t moved in yet.

By the time we get to the arena, Alexandra still hasn’t called or messaged me. I clench my jaw.

She has to be ignoring me because I wouldn’t publicly date her. Is she trying to punish me? Is she just busy packing and hasn’t heard her phone go off?

The longer it takes her to respond to me, the angrier I get.

Warm-ups pass by in a blur of anger and impatience.

When we get back to the locker room, I grab my phone and head into the office to call her.

It’s no surprise that she doesn’t answer. This time, though, I wait for her voicemail to pick up.

Her voice is smooth like butter. “I’m sorry to have missed your call. If this is urgent, please call me at the office. If not, please leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

As soon as the beep sounds, I unleash all the anger that has built up over the past thirty minutes.

“Alexandra, answer my call, damn it. I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re pissed that I said no to publicly dating you. I’ve been patient and understanding, but that stops now. Stop ignoring me and pick up the damn phone.”

I end the call and take several deep breaths before redialing her number. When it goes to voicemail, I end the call and redial.

Over and over, I try to reach her, with each passing call causing me to worry more and more.

A knock sounds on the door before Rhett pokes his head inside. “We’re heading back to the ice. Are you coming?”

I glance at my phone before standing. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

I toss my phone onto my pile of stuff and follow the guys out of the locker room.

I’m on autopilot as the anthem is sung, and the game begins. I’m grateful hockey is a sport where I can take my anger out on the ice.

When a player on the Jacksonville Jays shoves Gage into the back of the net, I skate over to them and start swinging.

The referees blow their whistles and send me to the penalty box for roughing.

I roll my eyes and sit down on the tiny bench. Looking across the ice, I meet Coach Bobby’s gaze.

He’s pissed and glaring right at me.

Sure, I might have to answer for my actions, but right now, I just want to finish what I started.

And I will.

The two minutes go by swiftly. I take the bench and wait for another chance to take the ice.

The Jays player shoves Gage into the boards right in front of me and the rest of the team. “Why don’t you come do something about it, tough guy?”

I glance at Coach Bobby, hoping he gives me the go ahead, but he shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Why the fuck not?”

The players beside me freeze, not believing I just spoke to Coach that way.

“Don’t start, Marino.”

“Someone needs to put the asshole in his place. Clearly, Gage isn’t going to be the enforcer he is supposed to be.”

Coach glances at the ice before turning toward me. I see the resolve in his eyes before he sighs and says, “Fine.”

When the players on the ice need to change, I jump over the boards and skate straight toward the asshole.

Gage yells at me. “Don’t do it, Marino. It’s not worth it.”

I glare at him before shoving the dickhead into the boards. He hits the plexiglass with an oomph before turning around and dropping his stick.

“I’m surprised your coach let you off the bench.”

I throw my stick and gloves down on the ice, preparing for a fight. “He didn’t have a fucking choice. I was coming for you one way or another.”

“Let’s do this.”

We square our shoulders and skate around in a circle. He’s the first to move, but I dodge his punch and grab a fistful of his jersey.

My fist sails through the air a second before connecting with his jaw.

Whistles are blown, and the referees break us up.

I don’t wait for the penalty to be announced. I skate back to the penalty box as the crowd boos me.

If they think that’s going to throw me off my game, they are sorely mistaken.

I plop down on the bench and take a swig of water. I might as well get comfortable because the game has just started and I’m already on my second penalty.

Fighting did nothing to quell the anger busting inside.

Looking across the ice, I see Coach Bobby yell something at the referee before gesturing to me. It’s clear he is pissed, but whether it’s at me or not is undetermined.

One thing is certain, if Alexandra doesn’t call me back tonight, my first stop after we land in Savannah will be at her front door.