Man of Omerta was my donation to the Babies at the Border Compilation and it is now free to post. The first three chapters were donated, but as I wasn't able to get as far along as I wanted to, I'm currently planning to post every two to three weeks. So after today's post, there will be a chapter right around St. Patrick's Day. I'm hoping to pick up some speed on this one and keep it up. My focus right now is this fic and The Collection, which I need to get back to. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

This fic was adopted from the plot bunny farm over on facebook, thanks Nichole for this idea. The premise was simple, but you know how I like to complicate things. Since my favorite gangster movie of all time is Goodfellas you'll see a few influences. I decided setting this in the past was easier for me not only from a plot standpoint, but because I love a period piece, no matter the time period, so welcome to the 60's. My beautiful banners for this fic are from HeartforTwilight, she's a great writer in her own right and volunteered to do these for me. And lastly, one half of the dream team, Mizzdee for taking the red pen to this one, and Sunshine1220 for signing on as my pre-reader, thanks ladies.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

Bensonhurst, New York, 1965

From the time I was twelve, I'd been a part of this life. My father was Aro Volturi's consigliere, and from the days I used to stop by the bar on my way home from school, he'd seen the promise in me.

I was his godson, and as he'd lost his brother and two sons to this life with nothing and no one to blame but their own temper and stupidity, a decade after my start he was beginning to consider who would step in when he retired.

"My boy," Aro called from the back of the smoke-filled room, "come talk to your godfather."

I made my way to the table where he sat with my father and a few other high-ranking officers and he handed me an envelope. "Take care of this for me? You and Jasper leave tonight."

Nodding, I took the envelope and made my way out of the bar. There was no point in opening it in front of him. Checking what he was asking of me before I agreed was rude, and it wouldn't have mattered. I would have done it regardless. You don't disrespect your elders, especially the boss.

Making it to my car, I saw an address in Chicago and a name, Stefan Romano. I knew of him; he was a low-level crook who thought it was a good idea to skim from the top. This was his only warning. We'd be coming back to New York with the money owed to Aro, whether he paid it, or we took it after he was dealt with.

I drove to the house and walked in the front door, smiling at the smell of Esme's minestrone soup cooking. One of the perks of still living at home was getting a home-cooked meal every night. She could make a masterpiece out of nothing, but tonight I had other plans.

"Where're you off to?" she asked, gesturing to the suitcase that was waiting for me.

"Chicago," I told her.

"Take your heavy coat, you'll freeze your balls off out there."

"Yes, Ma," I called, taking the coat from the hall closet, I shrugged it on.

"Ay, where do you think you're going?" she hollered.

I stopped and walked to the kitchen and over to her where she was stirring dinner. I kissed her cheek and she patted mine, three quick taps her silent way of saying I love you.

My father married Esme when I was seven and Jasper was five. She'd been around before that but, out of respect for our mother, he'd waited a few years to make things official.

Esme was from the neighborhood. She grew up in this world and that meant she didn't take shit from too many people. Aro adored her, so she was one of the most respected women in Brooklyn.

I grabbed the bag Esme had packed for me on my way out the door. I picked up Jasper, it seemed he'd been given the same heads up.

The flight out was uneventful, aside from Jasper's usual gripes about his wife, Maria.

"Jas, we told you that marrying Maria Moretti would be a lifetime of ball-busting. But you had to be a man."

"She was knocked up, Ed. I wasn't about to let her dictate when I could see my kid. Besides, Aro would have been more upset if I hadn't married her."

"And now you've got a nag on your dick for the rest of your days," I said.

I hadn't met a woman in the neighborhood that interested me enough to settle down and after the disaster that was Jasper's marriage, my father wasn't pushing me towards any of the locals. Though Esme had hinted to Aro that I should go to Italy and find a good woman from the old country.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax for at least a portion of the flight.

We were picked up by Marcus, Aro's nephew and the underboss out here in Chicago.

"If you cap Stefan, make sure his mother can have an open casket," Marcus directed.

I was hoping to avoid that, but with a punk this dumb it was difficult to say. "We'll do our best."

When we got to his house in the predawn hours, we caught a few hours sleep and then changed and took off in one of Marcus's cars to finish this business. The address was easy to find and we weren't surprised to find it was an auto mechanic. As we pulled in, a few guys approached.

"Can we help you?" one of the grease monkeys asked.

"Yeah we're looking for Stefan? Marcus said he'd be able to help us."

"Stefan, you got visitors," the guy hollered.

Stefan jogged out, stopping short when he saw us.

"I'll see you later." The comment was shouted as he turned to the other mechanics before approaching the car and climbing in.

Jasper got in the back seat behind him and I pulled out of the lot for this joyride. "What does Aro need my help with?"

"He needs the money you owe him," I ground out.

"What? I'm not skimming." The octave his voice rose to told us otherwise.

"Last two trips you made moving those hot cars you said they all got stripped for parts. Imagine Marcus's surprise when his cousin got pinched for coke in the side panel of the car you sold him. You didn't even check the car before you sold it," I said.

"You're lucky his lawyer got him off since he'd only been the owner a few days, otherwise Marcus would be paying this visit himself," Jasper added.

"What can I do to make this right?" Stefan's voice wavered.

"Get us the money you owe Aro and deliver it to us at Famiglia by three. We have a flight to catch."

"Sure thing," he whispered.

I pulled up to the garage and he scampered out. Jasper didn't bother to get into the front seat with me, but I heard his protests when I headed back to Marcus's. "You said we were going to Famiglia?"

"At three. We flew out on the last flight yesterday and barely got any sleep this morning. I want to nap for a few hours. We'll get our money, grab a bite, and you can flirt with the one that got away."

"Fuck you, Edward," he spat.

"You're not my type," I retorted with a middle finger flashing in his direction.

After a few hours of sleep, we got cleaned up and drove to La Famiglia. Jasper and I were seated quickly and looked at the menu. Stefan walked in with an envelope and after a quick inspection, I gave him a curt nod and sent him on his way.

Our waitress walked up and I couldn't help but smile. "Alice, how are you?"

"I'm good, Edward. Jasper?"

"Perfect now, Darling."

"How's your wife?" Alice asked and I barked a laugh.

"Don't be like that. You'd be my wife if you hadn't broken my heart all those years ago."

"We were children, you couldn't really think I was going to go home with you from Italy. And then you met Maria and got her pregnant-." Alice hissed the word in an attempt not to be heard. Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by Jasper.

"And I married her to keep my son. You could always move to New York, I'd help set you up," Jasper offered.

"I'm not going to be your goomah. If you ever find a way out of the mess you've made of your life, I'd consider it, but not before."

"Good for you, Alice," I told her. Sometimes my brother was a bonehead.

"Let me take those from you." She snatched our menus. "I'll bring you both something special."

I almost choked on my wine twenty minutes later when Alice brought me a plate of chicken and eggplant parmigiana and then plopped a plate of spaghetti arrabbiata with two fist sized meatballs in front of my brother. "Enjoy."

"Don't say a word," Jasper said.

"I won't mention that Alice just served you your balls on a plate."

"Asshole."

We ate our meal and after a generous tip and a kiss to Alice's cheek, Jasper and I made our way to Marcus's to get ready for our flight.

A few hours later we were on the plane and I drifted off quickly. Jasper gave me a shove when we landed and we made our way through the terminal. I had to take a piss, so we took care of that before getting to baggage claim. We arrived just in time to see the carousel stop, our bags alone on the belt.

I reached for my suitcase, almost falling over from the weight of it. Jasper snickered but I lifted it and unclasped it to reveal more mementos than clothes. This was not my bag.

"Fuck," I growled. "Someone grabbed my bag."

I snatched a picture frame from the bag and closed it.

"What are we going to do?" Jasper asked.

"We're going to ask the cab stand if they recognize anyone in this picture and to tell us where they took them. Then we'll deal with them when we get there."

Even with this massively heavy bag, I reached the cab stand quickly and thrust the picture frame at the attendant. "Have you seen any of these people in the last twenty minutes?"

One look up at us and then the guy pointed to the pretty brunette in the middle. "Yeah, she caught a cab from here about fifteen minutes ago."

"Where was she headed?" Jasper asked, flashing the gun tucked into his waistband.

"Flushing Motel," he stuttered.

I pulled a couple of twenties from my wallet and handed them to him. "Pleasure doing business with you. And if anyone asks…"

"I don't know a damn thing."

We made our way to the parking lot and I drove to the motel the attendant had told us about. I pulled into the alley and right up to the side door.

"Don't move, I may be running when I get out of that room," I told Jasper before I opened the door.

I unlocked the trunk and took this girl's bag out, checking the ID tag. Isabella Cigno. I walked through the door and right up to the counter.

"I need a key to my girlfriend's room, Isabella Cigno?"

"She asked not to be disturbed," the clerk said without looking up.

I pulled a twenty from my wallet and slammed it on the counter. "I'm not disturbing her, now get me that key."

His eyes flashed up and he froze when he met my glare. It took a minute, and me unbuttoning my coat enough to reveal my gun, but he reached back and got the key for me. I left the bill on the counter and took the elevator to the fourth floor.

I made my way to room 408, pleased that it was right beside the side stairwell. I slid the key into the lock and turned the knob. My head was down, but my eyes scanned the room. There she was, asleep in the bed. I switched the bags, sitting mine beside the door. Only problem, I needed to know what, if anything, she found in the bag.

I approached the bed, pulling my gun out. I crouched beside the bed and covered her mouth just as the muzzle of my gun pressed to the back of her head.

"Wake up, Isabella," I murmured and she stiffened. "I don't want to hurt you, but I need to ask you a few questions. Now, I'm going to remove my hand, but I need you to be quiet. No screaming, okay?"

She nodded, trembling like a leaf. I moved my hand as promised and she started praying in Italian. My hand felt numb with the lack of contact and the sound of my mother tongue coming out of her mouth did things to me, but I couldn't think like that.

"Good girl. Now, you must have been in a hurry when you left the airport, because you took my bag by mistake. I've already taken mine back and left yours, but I need to know, did you open it?"

"No, my other bag has my clothes, so I didn't need to," she whispered.

"You're not just saying that, are you?"

"No. I'd like for us to survive tonight, and lying to the man holding a gun on me doesn't seem like the best way to do that."

"Us? Is someone else in here?" I asked, pissed I didn't consider it.

"I'm expecting," she said. Her hand drifted to her midsection, which I now saw was rounded slightly.

"I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm going to walk out that door and I won't bother you again. Just don't tell anyone about tonight."

"There's no one to tell," she whispered.

"What about the father?" I asked, because I couldn't understand how a pregnant girl could have no one in her life.

"I just flew three thousand miles to escape him."

"Are you in danger?" My anger flared at the idea of someone hurting her, but considering she wasn't a blubbering mess at me pulling a gun on her, she couldn't have had the easiest life. That it got to me this much was the problem, she wasn't anyone for me to be concerned for.

"No, my grandfather will make a show of being concerned, but it wasn't like he loved me. Just an old man playing matchmaker and not being any good at it. I'm not worth the effort," she laughed humorlessly.

"Here, take this and if you ever need help, go here and ask for Edward Masen." I threw a wad of cash beside her on the bed, followed by a matchbook for Mezzano's.

"Why are you helping me?" she questioned.

"Because, I feel bad that our first meeting was this way. That the first time I heard you speak Italian was a frightened prayer. I was raised that women are supposed to be protected."

"The bag must have been pretty important."

"It is. I hope I'll see you again. Goodnight Principessa."

I took the side stairwell down and was glad to see Jasper still parked where I asked him to be.

"So, how did it go?" he asked once we started to pull away.

"She hadn't even touched the bag. No idea what she'd taken. I think she's in trouble, Jasper. She's expecting but she ran away from whatever her home life looked like."

I could feel Jasper's eyes on me. "That's the most you've said about any woman in a while. Should I tell Ma to start knitting booties?"

"Quit it. I gave her a matchbook and some money for her trouble. So, it is up to her if we see each other again."

"Mhmm."