Santori Reborn (The Santori Trilogy Book 2)

by Maris Black

  Z nodded, all of the earlier anger and bravado having drained out of him.

  Gio unbuckled his belt, and my brain screamed, Oh God, oh God, what the fuck is happening?

  Z was pliant as Gio gripped his hips and turned him back to face me, once again positioning him between my legs. I glanced down and saw that Z was just as hard, his dick glistening with lubrication. My consciousness nearly wavered.

  Gio was going to let him fuck me? I didn’t want it. I didn’t want anyone inside me but Gio. Not ever. Tears slid from the outside corners of my eyes, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  Gio pushed against his ass from behind, and Z groaned. Gio’s right hand slid around and caressed up Z’s T-shirt. Over to his shoulder. Down his arm. Toward the knife.

  “Let’s get rid of this thing,” he said. “Someone might accidentally get cut.”

  Z’s lips were slack as he nodded and gave up the knife, but he turned and watched as Gio deposited it on the nightstand. Satisfied, he turned back to me, looking just as bewildered as I felt.

  Then suddenly he spun around and threw his arms around Gio’s neck. Gio squeezed his frail frame tightly against him, and his eyes met mine over Z’s shoulder. His eyes were haunted.

  In that moment, Gio’s words came back to me—Only one. The two words that had broken my heart.

  Z was the one. The only other man Gio had loved.

  I wanted to die as I watched them embrace, their hands wandering over each other. Z’s long fingers trembling as they combed through Gio’s hair. Gio’s strong arms encircling Z’s narrow back while he still clutched his shirt in one hand. The affection coursing between them was palpable in the room.

  “I love you so much,” Z whimpered, going limp and shaky in Gio’s arms.

  “I know you do,” Gio whispered. “I love you, too.”

  I just lay there, naked and still, as a piece of me withered and died.

  Z sniffed back tears. “Can we be together again?”

  “We can all be together.” He turned Z back around to face me, and I saw the gleam of tears in both their eyes.

  “Forever?” Z asked, his voice breathy and full of childlike innocence.

  “Yes, baby. Forever.” Gio pulled Z’s head back against his shoulder, kissed his cheek tenderly, then drew the knife across his throat.

  CHAPTER 18

  PETER

  I watched in horror as a spurt of red hit my belly before Gio could get his wadded up shirt to Z’s throat to staunch the blood. My brain scrambled in search of any scrap of logic to explain the gruesome scene playing out in front of me.

  Z’s eyes stretched wide for a few seconds before his gaze grew distant and unfocused. The shirt Gio held clamped to his throat soaked through, and a wash of red started to pour down his T-shirt.

  Gio, his face contorted into a mask of sheer agony until he was nearly unrecognizable as the man I knew. A low moan came out of him stumbled backward, Z’s shoes trailing limply along the carpet as he dragged him into the bathroom. Still emitting that tortured moan, Gio lowered the man he had once loved gently into the garden tub.

  I got up on shaky legs and staggered to the bathroom, moving on instinct rather than any conscious decision to do so. What I saw in the bathroom would forever be burned into my memory.

  Z jerked violently in the tub, convulsing a few times in quick succession as if his failing body was trying to reboot. Then he gurgled a thick stream of dark blood out through his mouth and nose before going completely still. His eyes were fixed on some distant point, unseeing as he gave up his last, liquid breath.

  Gio dropped to his knees and started to rock, keening like a frightened animal as he ran trembling fingers through the disheveled spikes of Z’s hair. Tears coursed freely down his cheeks.

  I couldn’t do anything but stare, questioning reality and my own sanity. Gio’s cries were driving me mad, echoing in my head until I finally covered my ears with my hands and squeezed my eyes shut against the horrific scene. My body started to quake from shock. I knew it, and yet I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  I was cold. Like death. Like Z. So cold.

  I was dimly aware of a hand resting on my shoulder, and I turned my head slowly to see who it was, half fearing a ghost. But it was only Theo. I hadn’t even known he was there.

  He pulled me away from the bathroom and guided me to the bed. Helped me to sit. Wrapped his arms around me.

  I collapsed onto his shoulder and finally started crying. I could feel my tears soaking his shirt, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I went limp against him and shuddered as sobs wracked me. I could still hear Gio in the bathroom, his wails fading to whimpers, and I cried for him. It was the most heartbreaking sound I’d ever heard. I wanted to go to him, but Theo held me in place. He was the only sane one here.

  He ran rough hands up and down my naked back, soothing me.

  Eventually, I heard Gio shuffling in the bathroom, and I chanced a peek through watery eyes. He was scrubbing his hands where the blood that soaked through the shirt had gotten on him. There was surprisingly little blood anywhere but on Z, and I marveled at Gio’s foresight with hanging onto his shirt.

  The thought brought a realization that nearly took my breath away. Gio was already planning to kill Z the moment he entered the room and found us there. He had known even as he held him. Kissed him. Told him he loved him.

  Gio staggered out of the bathroom, shirtless, his belt still hanging loosely where he had unbuckled it.

  “Fuck,” he cried, crashing drunkenly against the door frame as he entered the room. Then he took a deep breath, wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand, and looked at us. I thought I saw a flash of anger as he took in the sight of my naked body pressed against Theo’s.

  The last man who had touched my naked body was lying dead in the tub. Theo must have had that same thought, because he let go of me.

  Gio held a wet washcloth in his hand. He sat down on the bed and pushed me down onto my back, inspecting me for something. Damage? Blood?

  When he saw the small red smear across my belly, he worked it away quickly with the warm, soapy cloth.

  “Is that all?” he asked? “You didn’t get any more on you, did you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “What happened here?” He touched the fine scratch on my thigh that had already congealed and was on its way to healing.

  “He accidentally scratched me with the knife.”

  “That’s it? Just scratched you?”

  “Yes, Gio. I’m fine. It was just a scratch and a little bit of blood.”

  “But the blood didn’t get on your scratch?”

  “No, Gio.”

  He carried the washcloth to the bathroom and dropped it into the trash, casting a troubled look at the body in the tub as he came back into the room. Then he let out a pent-up breath and laid down beside me.

  Theo was still sitting there, looking toward the bathroom. Normally it would have been weird lying naked in front of him, and even clinging to him naked, but in the aftermath of a near-rape and brutal murder, it felt strangely okay.

  I didn’t even have the urge to cover myself. Perhaps it was because I was already so emotionally naked, and clothing couldn’t hide that.

  “You need to get everything cleaned up,” Gio said.

  Theo started and looked back at him. “Yes, sir.”

  “There are gloves in the kitchen under the sink. Be careful where you get that blood. He had AIDS.”

  Theo and I both stared at him in shock. “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because I was paying for his treatment.” Gio waved a hand. “It’s fine. Just don’t get it in any open wounds or your eyes.”

  “Nah, I know how it works,” Theo said. “I’m not scared. I was just thinking about what he was about to do before we got here. With Peter.”

  Gio nodded stiffly. “Just get him taken care of. And treat him with respect. No matter what he was about to do, he wa
s someone I cared about. He deserves a proper burial.”

  “Where are we taking him?” Theo asked.

  “The desert. We need a large moving box and a truck. And some plastic we can seal up.”

  “I’m on it, boss.” Theo got up and left the room, presumably to go and find the items.

  I had to wonder at how well Theo was handling everything. He had just been tasked with preparing and transporting a body to the desert to dispose of it, and he was taking it in stride.

  Had he done things like this before? Had Gio killed before?

  I didn’t want to think about those things. I’d had enough trauma for one day, and I just wanted to curl up against Gio and sleep. And hopefully not dream. But there were some questions I needed answers to first, about what had happened with Z.

  After Theo had thoughtfully pulled the bathroom door closed and left the apartment, I turned to Gio, who still had that haunted look in his eyes. I was sure there was a similar look in my own eyes.

  “He was trying to give it to me, wasn’t he?” I asked quietly.

  Gio nodded. “He was.”

  “And he’s the one you were talking about. You loved him.”

  “I did,” he admitted. “I just didn’t love him enough. It’s why he was so angry at you. He knew how I felt about you, and he obviously couldn’t handle it.”

  “What happened? How did he get sick?” I swallowed back the urge to ask Gio if maybe he was sick, too. If tonight had proved nothing else, it was that Gio hadn’t been lying when he said he’d do anything to keep me safe.

  “He and I were together years ago. We met at a nightclub after I got divorced, and we hit it off. He was very different then—always a bundle of energy. Such a goof, so wild and free. He was a freak for Elton John.” Gio chuckled, and a lone tear slipped out of his eye.

  “Sounds like he was a lot of fun,” I said, feeling the inadequacy of my words.

  “He made me feel alive. I cared about him very much, but over the course of our relationship, he changed. Got involved in drugs. Not selling them, but actually taking them. He was doing all sorts of things. Coke, crack, crank… heroin.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I got him into rehab, and he was able to kick the heavy stuff, but he was never quite the same.”

  “And you two weren’t together anymore?”

  “No. We had stopped seeing each other months before he went to rehab, but he came to my place one night, and he was in really bad shape. I had to do something.”

  “And you didn’t want him back after he got clean?”

  “I was already past all of that. Seeing other people. Like I said, I didn’t love him enough.” A flash of regret crossed his face. “I never loved him like I love you. Like I would move heaven and earth to keep you by my side. I gave up on him.”

  I ran a hand down his bare chest. “That’s not your fault. You can’t make yourself love someone more.”

  He chuckled lightly through his pain and pulled my hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to my fingers. “I know that. And Z was fine with it. He had moved on as well. But he came looking for a job one day, and I put him to work. He’s been with me ever since, but only in a professional capacity. I mean, we were still friends, but there was never any spark. Never any thought of getting back together.”

  “At least not on your part.”

  He shook his head as if to clear some doubt that had only recently made its way into his mind. “He was fine. He never came onto me or anything, so it never crossed my mind that he still thought of me that way. But then he got sick. We’re pretty sure he got it from sharing needles. I felt so fucking awful for him.”

  “So you paid for his treatment. That was really generous of you.”

  “It was the least I could do. The guy had pretty much been handed a death sentence, and there was no way he could afford it on his own. He didn’t have any health insurance, so I offered to pay.”

  We lay there in silence for a moment as I worked to process everything. My brain was overloaded to the point of exhaustion.

  “I had noticed a change in him lately,” Gio said. “Not just in his appearance, but in the way he was acting. He got pneumonia last year, and it was really bad. He stayed in the hospital for a while, and ever since then he’s been on a downhill slide, I think.”

  “He’d gotten really thin,” I said. “I had noticed it, but I just assumed he was doing a lot of drugs.”

  “He was,” Gio said. “I could tell he’d started back up. I pulled him aside a few times, but he just told me to mind my own business. When I think back, it seems like he started doing the drugs again around the time you came into my life.”

  “Oh, God,” I groaned. “Did I cause all of this?”

  “No, baby. Shhh…” He turned to face me and stroked my hair. “It’s not your fault that he was sick and fucked up on drugs. It’s not your fault that I fell in love with you. And it’s not your fault that a desperate, depressed man decided to attack you.”

  At his last words, the memory of the fear I had felt when I was at Z’s mercy came rushing back, and I started to shake. Gio pulled me sharply into his arms and crushed me against his chest. It was such an odd thing to notice, but the familiar tickle of his chest hair filled me with warmth and that sense of security I’d only ever felt with Gio.

  “I’m sorry that happened, baby. So sorry that happened to you. I should have read the signs. I knew he was feeling jealous and getting a little unstable, but I never imagined it would come to this.”

  “He scared me,” I whimpered against his chest. “I thought he was going to take what I never wanted to give to anyone but you. I thought he might even kill me. But now that I know the truth, I can’t even imagine what he must have been going through. He knew that he was dying, and he had to watch the man he loved falling for someone else.” I shuddered.

  The sickening jumble of fear, disgust, and unease I’d felt for my would-be rapist had transformed into something else. Compassion. I ached inside for the once-vibrant man who had met such a tragic end, and even after what he had tried to do to me, I couldn’t find it in my heart to hate him.

  Gio ran a hand down my back and rested a hand on my ass. Not in a sexual way, but a gentle, possessive touch. As if he cherished the body I had so freely offered up to him, and which he now owned.

  “I couldn’t let him hurt you,” he said. “And God forgive me, but I didn’t want to watch him waste away to nothing but a shell of the man he once was.” He sobbed against my cheek, a mournful sound that carried with it all the pain in the world. “I loved him.”

  I ran a hand down the back of his head and melted against his body. “Then I loved him, too.”

  That night we carried Z’s body out into the desert, the three of us traveling in silence. Gio dug a deep hole, laboring far into the night. He only let Theo help when he got too exhausted to go on, but he wouldn’t let me do anything.

  “This is my burden,” he said. “My work to do and my weight to carry.”

  Gio pulled the plastic back to reveal Z’s body and removed his gold earring. He handed it to me for safekeeping, and I held it like a precious relic as I watched them lower his frail body into the ground and cover him with dirt.

  Gio stood several yards away for a long time, broken and sweaty, staring off into the gloom. His anguish was palpable, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his guilt.

  I grabbed the handful of emergency candles I’d found in Gio’s kitchen cabinet and stabbed them into the dirt around the grave site. Theo lit them all with his cigarette lighter, then fired up a cigarette and puffed a plume of smoke into the dim gray glow of pre-dawn.

  As Gio wandered back to us, I retrieved the boom box from the truck, and we all sat in a cluster at the side of the unmarked pauper’s grave that would cradle Z for the rest of eternity. The silence was deafening as I pressed play on the cassette deck.

  The haunting melody of Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road floated across the desert, and we
cried until the sun started to break over the horizon.

  PART III

  CHAPTER 19

  KAGE

  The journal entry chronicling the death and burial of Z nearly brought me to my knees. I couldn’t imagine the sorrow and guilt those three men had felt after the horror that unfolded that night.

  My uncle had been attacked and nearly raped. Gio had killed a man in cold blood—a man he’d once loved and still felt responsible for. The emotions coursing through me were staggering, as if I had experienced that loss myself.

  How did you move past something like that? I doubted anyone come through such a tragedy unscathed. I imagined the guilt they must have all carried with them as they moved on with life and left Z behind, and felt the ghost of a hole in my own heart.

  I flipped to the back of the journal and out pulled three photos that had yellowed and faded with age. I stared for a long time, shocked to finally be able to put faces to the names I had read about.

  The first photo was of three men. My uncle at the age of eighteen, smiling brightly and looking so similar to me it took my breath away. Gio posed beside him in the fedora Peter had given him, looking gorgeous and intimidating with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes. A hint of a smile graced his full lips as he held Peter close, tucked in under his arm like the precious possession he was. Theo stood aloof on the other side of Peter, his flowing mane of hair looking the same as it did today.

  It was strange to see my uncle and Theo so fresh-faced and unlined, especially after all I knew they had been through. I wondered if the photo had been taken before or after Z’s death.

  The second photo was of Peter and Gio in their bedroom, hugging and smiling sweetly at the camera. They looked so damn happy and in love. I wondered if Theo had been on the other side of the camera taking the picture.

  The third photo was an even older one that featured a younger Gio and a black-haired man whom I assumed could only be Z. It appeared to have been taken in a nightclub. A crowd of blurry-faced people partied behind them as they posed for the picture, both grinning broadly as if they didn’t have a care in the world.