Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I swallow as those words tear me in two and I stare into his anguished eyes, searching for a trace of the boy who once thought I hung the moon. He’s gone, though. All that’s left is a young man hardened by circumstances he couldn’t control.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I never wanted to hurt you. I swear on everything, I tried to fight it…”

  His eyes go wide as saucers as he roughly drags his fingers through his hair, and he laughs at me bitterly.

  “You tried to fight it,” he scoffs. “Like you tried to fight your feelings for Lacey? Man, I’m so fucking stupid. I should’ve taken that shit as a warning. I should’ve known you couldn’t be trusted, but I thought I was different. I thought I mattered to you.”

  “Don’t,” I growl, curling my fists.

  I can live with his hate, but I can’t live with him thinking I don’t care about him.

  “Don’t you dare say you don’t matter to me,” I hiss.

  I move to close the distance between us, but Frankie lurches forward, his fists closing around my shirt. With strength I didn’t know he was capable of, he slams my back against the wall.

  “I hate you,” he spats. “Do you hear me? I fucking hate you.”

  Something flashes in his eyes and I try to make out what it is, but as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. He releases his hold on me and takes a retreating step, lifting his hands to his face. I want to reach for him, especially when his shoulders slump with defeat—I want to pull him into my arms. Dropping his hands from his face, he lifts his head. He doesn’t attempt to hide the tears falling down his cheeks as he stares at me. Instead, he gives them to me, knowing they’ll haunt me every day of my life.

  Suddenly he peels his eyes from me and his gaze darts around the room.

  “I gotta get out of here,” he mutters under his breath before bringing his eyes back to me. “I gotta get out of here,” he repeats. I reach out to grab his arm, but he snatches it away and narrows his eyes. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  He backs away, shuffling his feet towards the door and pats his pockets, searching for his keys.

  “Don’t come after me, either. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon,” he says, jerking open the door.

  Then he’s gone.

  With his words ringing in my ears, I stare at the closed door and I try to find it in me to go after him. After all, it wasn’t all that long ago I stood in his shoes, feeling the same pain. The kind of unspeakable pain that finds you standing on the edge of an overpass with nothing to lose but everything to gain.

  I gained that night and my only hope for my brother is that he does too.

  Some might take that as me being selfish.

  Others, they know.

  They’ve experienced enough life to know the difference.

  On the heels of every great loss, there is something more beautiful waiting.

  Sometimes it’s the thing you spent most of your life wishing for, other times it’s something you didn’t know existed. When it comes into your life, you reflect on the road you took to find it. You remember the loss. You relive the pain and then you lay it to rest. You make peace with the realization that there is a bigger plan for you, and you stop walking the line.

  You lay everything on that line.

  All your sorrows.

  Every apology.

  The regrets.

  You put them down and you jump over that thing with both fucking feet.

  You take your first breath.

  You climb the stairway to your heaven, following the sweet sounds of the girl you never meant to love. The girl God handed you to love with everything you are and everything you’ll ever be.

  With a newfound calmness, I enter the nursery. Since the day I was ordered to clear out this room, I wondered what they would look like sitting in here. No dream I could’ve conjured, could possibly have prepared me for the actual thing. The green eyes that have had me under a spell from the moment they locked with mine hold me captive and all the air rushes from my lungs when I spot a single tear slip from one of them.

  “You told him,” she whispers, her tone strangled with grief.

  Closing the distance between us, I nod and swallow, forcing down the lump clogging my throat.

  “I don’t want to pretend no more Carrie, and I don’t think you do either.”

  “I never wanted to hurt him Nico,” she cries softly. “He…until you, he was the best thing I ever had. He was the only thing I had,” she whispers, lowering her gaze to Anna.

  “Hey,” I call hoarsely, taking a knee in front of her. “Look at me,” I coax, touching a finger under her chin. She meets my gaze and for a second, I question if telling Frankie was the right move. Maybe I should’ve discussed it with her, made sure we were on the same page.

  “Tell me you don’t feel this thing between us. Tell me you want him, that you want to make a life with him and Anna. Tell me and I swear to God, I will walk away Carrie. I will be there for you and for her like I promised I would, but that’s it. We won’t take this any further. Tell me that’s what you want because either way, I’m prepared to give you whatever you need.”

  “Do you really think I could do that?” she murmurs. “Nico I’ve been losing my mind since they put those cuffs on you. I don’t think you realize how much I care. How deep I’ve fallen. I don’t want to hurt Frankie, but I don’t know how not to. I love him, a part of me always will, and I know that’s hard for you to hear. But that love…that’s the love of a young girl,” she pauses, glancing down at Anna. “Three months ago, I thought people didn’t know what they were talking about when they discredited young love. I told myself they didn’t have a love like mine. But I bet some of them did. I think they just grew up. I think they found real love. The kind that sets your whole world on fire. The kind you run from. The kind you work tirelessly to put out because you’ve been taught fire is dangerous. It burns you and it scars you. But fire can be beautiful too and that’s something you learn when you allow yourself to dance in it. You realize it can warm you. It can light the darkest parts of your soul and so you quit fighting the fire. You welcome the burn. You wear those scars proudly because they’re proof you’ve found a love bigger than you. A love that can’t be contained.”

  This girl.

  The day I met her she blew me away.

  Breathed life into my soul.

  And she just keeps blowing me away.

  I hate that she comes to me at the expense of my brother’s pain, but I need to believe there is a greater purpose to this and maybe that has nothing to do with me and Carrie. Maybe it’s about Frankie and the plan God has for him.

  But his plan for me.

  For Carrie.

  It starts now.

  “I need to start reading those romance books of yours,” I say hoarsely. “That’s some analogy, Green Eyes.”

  Cocking her head to the side, she adjusts Anna and extends her hand, holding it out for me to take. I don’t hesitate. Locking my fingers with hers, I stare at them for a second.

  They fit.

  They fucking fit perfectly.

  “I want to dance with you Nico,” she whispers, her eyes boring into mine. Every shade of green and all those flecks of gold…

  Aching.

  Burning.

  Begging.

  “I love you,” I blurt, squeezing her hand.

  I exhale and as soon as I do it feels like a weight has been lifted from my chest. Like I’ve been holding my breath since I met her and now, I can finally breathe. She stares at me with those wide eyes and I continue, “I’ve never said those words to a girl before because I never felt them. I thought I did, but nothing…nothing came close.” I take another breath and look at Anna, bringing my free hand to touch her cheek. “I love her too Carrie.” I lift my head, emotion heavy in my tone. “So fucking much.”

  Eyes locked with mine, she untangles our fingers and lifts her hand to my cheek.

  “I know you do,” she whis
pers softly, her finger gently stroking the side of my face as she shifts Anna in her arms and leans in.

  “Am I going to have to make the first move again?” she asks.

  “There’s no more line,” I reply, lifting both hands to her face. Then I do what I’ve ached to do for months. I close the short distance between us and press my lips to hers. I mean to keep it soft and gentle, especially considering Anna is between us. But something snaps inside of me.

  A hunger.

  A desperate need.

  With an urgency I try to tame, I pull her bottom lip into my mouth and a groan sounds from deep in my throat. She parts her lips, inviting me to lay claim on her and I don’t hesitate. My tongue slides over hers and I know for certain, there is no turning back.

  Not anymore.

  We’re dancing.

  The flames whipping around us.

  Branding us.

  Scarring us.

  Proving some fires can’t be contained.

  Breathlessly we pull apart, but we don’t retreat. We open our eyes and stare at one another, both of us feeling the aftershocks.

  “What happens now?” she whispers.

  The heat of her breath tickles my lips and I close my eyes.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. Drawing out a ragged breath, I open my eyes and stare at her. “Neither of us wants to hurt Frankie any more than we have, so we take it day by day. We give him time to cool off and the three of us concentrate on Anna. She comes first.”

  Agreeing, Carrie nods before glancing at her daughter. I follow her lead, my gaze taking in Anna’s face and a smile creeps across my lips.

  “It’s only been a day, but I missed her. How crazy is that?”

  Carrie turns to me.

  “Do you want to hold her?”

  My arms have been aching for it.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I really do.”

  “Good, because I have to pee,” she replies.

  A chuckle slips past my lips as I stand, holding out a hand to help her out of the rocker. She transfers Anna into my arms, careful not to wake her, and drops a kiss to her cheek before leaving me and my niece alone.

  “There’s my Anna Banana,” I whisper. “Do you know your Uncle Nico’s favorite girl? I was so worried I wouldn’t get to hold you or see you again.”

  I bend my head and kiss the top of her head.

  “God, you’re perfect,” I murmur. “And you know what? You definitely have your mom’s lips, but I think you got your daddy’s nose.” I swallow. “You’re a perfect combination of both of them.”

  “Nico!”

  I turn around at the sound of Carrie frantically calling my name and see her standing in the doorway of the nursery.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She opens her palm and I close the distance between us to get a look at whatever it is she’s holding. She raises a plastic baggie and I freeze, spying the white residue caked to it.

  “Where did you find that?”

  “In the bathroom and it’s all over the vanity too,” she cries, crushing the baggie in her fist. “I knew something wasn’t right with him. I knew it and I ignored it because I thought it was my guilt feeding me lies. Telling me what I wanted to hear.”

  As she says the words, I realize I saw it too.

  His wide eyes.

  The erratic movements.

  And his tense jaw.

  I saw it and I let him walk out that fucking door.

  “Oh God, Nico. What if he does something stupid? I found you standing on an overpass when you were upset, and you weren’t high. You need to go find him. Now. You need to leave, and you need to go find your brother.”

  Tears stream down her face as she pleads with me.

  “Go wash your hands so you can take the baby.”

  She doesn’t hesitate and neither do I. I follow her into the bathroom, barely giving her a chance to dry her hands before I hand her Anna. Then I charge down the stairs, grabbing the keys to the Expedition as I make my way out the door.

  I don’t bother with a goodbye.

  I don’t tell her not to worry.

  I love my brother, I do.

  There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

  If he was ever in trouble, I’d bust through locked doors to rescue him.

  -Twenty-seven-

  Nico

  Nineteen.

  That’s the number of times I called Frankie’s cell and each call went straight to voicemail. I drove to all the places I thought he might be.

  The football field where he shined.

  Sophie’s house.

  Maria’s house.

  Enzo’s apartment.

  I even passed by the old school yard we used to hang out in where I gave him his first beer.

  But he was nowhere to be found and every minute that passed, I grew more and more desperate, knowing there’s no greater enemy than ones self when they are hurt and alone.

  I also knew if anything happened to my brother, I’d never be able to live with that guilt.

  That I’d never forgive myself.

  I needed to get to him.

  I needed to protect him.

  I needed to save him.

  I needed to do all the things I swore I’d do as his big brother and so, that’s why I’m standing on Blackie’s porch, banging on his door—praying the man I wronged takes pity on me.

  The door swings open and I’m greeted with a scowl. But it fades so quickly…so fucking quickly. His brown eyes narrow with concern and he steps onto the porch.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, and I hear a baby cry from somewhere in the house. An innocent baby I was too stubborn to acknowledge.

  “My brother…” I croak. “He’s in trouble and I don’t know how to help him.”

  “Alright, alright, calm down. Which brother?”

  “Frankie. Look, I can’t get into it okay. But Carrie found a bag of drugs in the bathroom and I don’t know how much he took, or if it was laced with anything. I don’t know if he’s looking to score more or something harder. All I know is he’s not in the right frame of mind and I need to find him.”

  “Okay,” he says.

  No questions asked.

  Not a single lick of hesitation.

  He turns back to the house, grabs his kutte and disappears inside for a second. When he returns, Lacey is standing behind him with their daughter in her arms. He gives them both a kiss and shrugs his vest onto his shoulders. His eyes find mine and he jerks his chin.

  “Let’s go.”

  Frozen in place, I stare at him for a minute. Something inside me knew to come here. After all, he’s an addict. No one knows drugs like he does. He knows where to get them, how to use them and more than that, he knows the consequences of them. But I’m not just here seeking the help of a recovering addict. This man is a brother to me—something I forgot for a while and though I wronged him, I knew he’d never turn his back on me.

  An apology sits on the tip of my tongue and I try to force it out, but he shakes his head and stares at me.

  “There’s a time and a place for that, brother, and this ain’t it. Give me your keys, I’m driving.”

  I nod and without a word, I hand him the keys. We hurry down the walkway and climb into the Expedition. Once we peel away from his house, he starts firing off questions. I answer some of them, and he starts to piece things together. He veers onto the highway and soon we’re getting off at Bay Street, driving through the streets that have seen better days and their fair share of crime.

  He makes a sharp turn and slams on the brakes.

  My eyes dart to the windshield and I’m blinded by the flashing lights up ahead.

  “Police station is a couple of blocks away,” he informs.

  And while I know that’s true, that there are a probably a bunch of reasons for all those lights, I still reach for the door handle.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  But I don’t answer.

  I climb out of the pass
enger seat and stare at the brigade of emergency vehicles.

  An ambulance pushes its way through the traffic.

  A symphony of fire engines sound.

  My feet start to move.

  Blackie shouts for me to stop.

  Don’t go over there.

  I love my brother, I do.

  Nico, you don’t want to see that.

  My pace quickens.

  My boots pound the pavement.

  There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

  Nothing I wouldn’t see.

  I reach the caution tape.

  An officer holds up his hands.

  The Maxima comes into my view.

  Mangled.

  Crushed.

  Destroyed.

  If my brother was ever in trouble, I’d bust through locked doors to rescue him.

  I’d knock a cop to the ground and push every last one of them out of my way.

  I’d try to pull him from the wreckage.

  I’d hold his lifeless body in my arms and tell him everything is going to be okay.

  -Twenty-eight-

  Carrie

  I was raised Catholic, which means I was baptized in a church and received my First Holy Communion. I probably would’ve gone on to receive my confirmation too if my mother didn’t skip out on me. She was the one who took me back and forth to religion class and when she left, well, my dad was apparently too busy screwing prostitutes to take me to church. Therefore, I was a shitty Catholic. I knew the Our Father and the Hail Mary and I celebrated Christmas—that’s it.

  I don’t know how to pray to the rosary, yet after I put Anna down in her crib, I found myself sitting on the steps holding Wolf’s grandmother’s rosary beads in my hands.

  A half-hour later, I’m still sitting here clutching the wooden beads, tracing the cross with my fingertips. But instead of trying to remember the correct way to pray, I lift my eyes and speak to the woman the Scotto men consider their guardian angel.

  I plead with her to watch over them.

  To keep them safe and out of harm’s way.

  And then I ask for forgiveness.

  The doorbell rings and my hand closes around the beads as I pounce for the door. With my faith wrapped tight around my heart, I pull open the door and stare at Wolf whose eyes are directed to the empty driveway.