by Bethany-Kris
Maybe he understood why Perry and Diesel—that stupid fuck—took on a side hustle in a chop shop, although he doubted they were getting paid what he just did for their work.
Flexing his hands at his sides, his skin stung like nothing else. All the little crisscross cuts and scrapes that covered his knuckles and palms opened up again, and screamed with discomfort. He felt it, sure, but he couldn’t find a reason to complain about it. Not when he had just shy of ten thousand dollars in small bills inside his messenger bag, and a whole lot of relief in his heart.
Well worth it.
At the moment, he didn’t even care to think about where that money was going to go, or all the things it could do for him, and his siblings. He could figure all that out later.
Right after he dealt with more important things first.
Checking his phone, Renzo scrolled to Lucia’s last text. A picture of Diego jumping on a bed that looked like it would take twenty of him just to fill it up. She’d kept him updated over the span of a couple of days. Where they went, and the things they did. She sent pictures, too, just because. Diego looked like he had the time of his fucking little life.
Nothing else mattered.
Scrolling up through the texts, he checked the name of the hotel where Lucia had set them up for a couple of days just to make sure he was at the right place. The gold lettering along the front of the entrance made Renzo quirk a brow, but hey, it was her money. Or … her father’s. The girl could spend it whatever damn way she wanted.
Especially after what that man did.
Entering the hotel, Renzo ignored the look the woman at the front desk passed him. He was far more interested in the woman coming out of the bank of elevators, and the boy holding tight to her hand at her side.
Lucia and Diego.
He grinned when his brother caught sight of him, dropped Lucia’s hand, and darted forward with a loud holler. He dropped his messenger bag to the ground, uncaring that for once, he wasn’t holding it despite the contents. He didn’t think this fancy fucking place was the kind of business that harbored someone who was going to steal his shit.
Renzo caught Diego with both arms, and stood, lifting the boy right off the floor in a tight hug. Diego’s little arms wrapped around Renzo’s neck, and squeezed hard enough to take his breath away.
Damn.
“Missed you, buddy,” Renzo murmured, stroking his brother’s hair. “Did you have fun with Lucia?”
Diego leaned back, and grinned to show off his pearly white teeth. “We did everything.”
Renzo arched a brow. “Really?”
“She let me jump on the bed, too.”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
Renzo put Diego back on his feet to the floor as Lucia came closer. She wore that same smile he loved so fucking much, but he could tell there was something wrong at the same time. “Hey.”
Once she was close enough for him to grab, he did just that. Pulling her in for a tight hug, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Lucia hugged his middle, and lingered for a beat longer than she usually would before she let him go.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, catching her cheek in his hand so he could force her to look at him. “And don’t tell me nothing—I can see it, baby.”
She shrugged. “Just family.”
Renzo’s gaze drifted to his brother who was entertaining himself by asking the girl at the front desk a million and one questions. He didn’t know what kind of pull Lucia’s family had, but he suspected it was enough that they knew where she was at all times, and exactly how to get to her should they need to. That concerned him a bit.
“No one showed up here, right?”
Lucia shook her head. “No, but I got enough messages to know when I get home … well, never mind. That’s for me to handle, I guess. Did you get everything done?”
Renzo grinned. “Yeah, I did. Thanks to you.”
He snagged her wrist in his hand, and let his thumb drift over her pulse point. There was something about the beat of this girl’s heart that settled him. Like all he needed to do was feel her heart beating its smooth, steady rhythm, and nothing else mattered at all. All was good in his world. Strange how that worked.
Tugging Lucia close to him again, her hands splayed across his chest, and she smiled. Things seemed more beautiful when she was smiling, even if he could see she was doing it for his sake. Dropping a quick kiss to her mouth once, and then twice, Renzo settled on letting her have her lies … for now.
“Everything is great,” she told him. “Let me know if I can help again … I don’t mind, Diego is wonderful. And he really missed you.”
Sure. But he wondered …
Just by the look on Lucia’s face …
Was it great?
• • •
“Don’t drop your bag, Diego,” Renzo said, laughing as the boy’s backpack started to slip from his arms as they climbed the last flight of stairs in their apartment building. “Here, let me—”
“I gots it,” Diego muttered strongly, shifting the bag back up to its rightful position. It couldn’t be that heavy, really. A couple of changes of clothes, and a toy or two that Diego had wanted to take with him while Renzo was gone. Nothing major. Peering up at his brother, Diego nodded. “See, I did it myself.”
Mmhmm.
He’d done it all himself. And Renzo would not point out how for most of their trip home, he had been the one who carried Diego on his back because the kid didn’t want to walk. Or rather, he was too tired to walk.
“Good job, buddy.”
Renzo didn’t need to be told to see it—Diego was damn tired, and ready for a nap. He suspected Lucia had kept the kid entertained and moving non-stop since he’d been gone. Probably to keep Diego distracted enough that he wasn’t worried about where his brother was, or if he was coming back.
He appreciated it.
“Will Lucia watch me again?” Diego asked, taking those last couple of steps slowly.
Renzo was already opening the doorway to the hallway leading to their apartment when he replied, “Maybe, we’ll see.”
“Okay, I like her.”
Yeah, he knew that.
No doubt.
“Who’s that, Ren?”
Renzo turned in the doorway as his brother passed him by to see who Diego was talking about. There was a lot of shady characters that came in and out of their apartment building on a regular basis. Sometimes, they’d see a face once, and never see them again. That was just fine with him, because those were usually the people he didn’t want to see again.
Not that he was any better, he supposed.
To some, he was bad people, too.
The man leaning against the wall directly next to Renzo’s apartment door, however, was a whole different breed. Never once had he laid eyes on Lucian Marcello. They’d never crossed paths, or had a need to, for that matter. Renzo liked that just fine. But just because he never had a face to face with the man didn’t mean he wouldn’t recognize him when Lucian was standing just a few feet away.
Maybe it was because the man’s eyes matched his daughter’s. A bright hazel, with secrets hiding in the depths. Or maybe it was because he was an older version of his son—tall, intimidating, and dangerous in more ways than one.
It could have also been because Renzo saw the man’s face flashed on the news a few times throughout his life. All the Marcellos had made their rounds in the system—courts, or otherwise.
It didn’t matter.
Renzo recognized him.
Quickly, he snatched the back of his brother’s backpack, and pulled Diego behind him. His brother tripped over his feet, but all Renzo cared about was getting Diego out of Lucian’s view. He didn’t know what the man was here for, but he didn’t think it was anything good, either.
“Ren?” Diego whispered behind him, hugging his legs.
He reached back, and patted a hand against his brother’s head. He figured … his best bet was not to let this man think he had bothered
him in any way by randomly showing up where he lived. Like that wasn’t threatening enough, really. If a fucking customer showed up at Ren’s place, he would beat the person within an inch of their life, so they never even thought about doing it again.
He didn’t think this would work out well for him if he tried that on Lucian.
Lucian smiled a slow, cold grin as he pushed away from the wall, and fixed the cuff on his suit jacket. Maybe it was the man’s posture, or the very expensive clothing and jewelry he wore, but the guy just screamed money. More than even his daughter did in her designer dresses and red-soled heels.
“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Renzo,” Lucian murmured, glancing up to meet Renzo’s gaze as he strolled closer. “Or do you prefer Ren?”
Renzo’s gaze narrowed. “I’d prefer if you left, actually.”
“Soon, soon.” Lucian shrugged. “No worries—this place isn’t really my scene.”
No fucking doubt.
Renzo chose to keep his mouth shut.
Not that Lucian cared.
He came to a stop just a couple of feet away from Renzo. Too fucking close, really. If he was intimidating several feet away, he was incredibly imposing being this close. Renzo refused to show it, though.
“If you’re here to tell me to stay away from your daughter—”
Lucian barked out a laugh. “Yes, I am here to tell you exactly that. And to explain a few things while I’m at it. Seems you don’t understand my reach, young man, or you just don’t care.”
Renzo refused to even blink with this man standing in front of him. “Go with the last one.”
“Funny—you’re a stupid one, then.”
“I—”
“Quiet,” Lucian murmured. “I know what my daughter did for you these past couple of days, and I know exactly where you were and what you were doing. See, I also know where you work on a daily basis, who works for you … who is supplying you.” The man leaned sideways a bit to smile down at Diego, but Renzo inched sideways to block his brother again. “And him … I even know his doctor’s name when he gets sick, and you need to take him in. I know the names of your sister’s teachers, and the address where she lives when she’s not coming back here to help you every once in a while.”
Renzo’s jaw stiffened. “Your point?”
“I made your life a little bit harder, didn’t I?” Lucian asked. “By taking away one thing—the daycare—you needed to fix it. Scramble to make it better. You fixed it this time around, but what would I take away next, young man? How much do I need to take away from you before you finally get the hint?”
Jesus Christ.
“Your sister?” Lucian asked, continuing on even when Renzo stayed silent. “Your apartment … or how about the way you keep it all afloat, hmm? What if I took away your ability to make money, and survive?”
Renzo tipped his chin up, fire in his heart and hate swimming in his blood. “You could try. My ability to get my hands on shit to sell isn’t dependent on the Marcellos, Lucian. You’re one supplier of many. Try something else.”
That was a lie.
It would be damn hard for him to work something else out, but he would do it.
“I’m sure,” Lucian said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Here’s the thing … you have no business with my daughter. And while I am usually fine to let my children do their own thing, not in this case, Renzo. See, I don’t know you, but what I do know, I don’t fucking like. I don’t want my daughter mixed up in you, your business, or your life. I don’t want her getting caught up in something I can’t save her from. You’re a wild card—I don’t know what number you’re going to show when I flip you over, and I can’t have that. Not when it’s my daughter’s safety that’s being gambled.”
Was that what it was about?
He thought Renzo was bad for her? That he was going to hurt her?
“I would never hurt Lucia.”
He couldn’t.
Not when he loved her.
Lucian’s cold expression didn’t change. “So you say. Do understand that if you continue to see my daughter, this is only going to get worse for you. Don’t be confused on whether or not this is something you should take seriously—it’s a promise, young man. Do you hear me?”
Renzo said nothing.
It wasn’t as simple as just staying away because someone told him to. How was he supposed to walk away from the only woman that managed to somehow climb over his walls, and make herself at home in his shitty fucking life and heart? He couldn’t just walk away from Lucia. That was never going to happen.
Lucian smiled again. “Oh, and your mother—I assume that’s who she was—left a while ago. Said she didn’t know when she would be back. Quite a mess, that one.”
Yeah, fuck.
That one stung a little.
“Go to hell,” Renzo muttered.
Lucian chuckled. “Men like us, Renzo, are already living there. It’s death that finally brings us heaven. I’m sure you understand.”
FIFTEEN
Renzo hadn’t been gone from the hotel for more than five minutes before a black car pulled up in front, and a familiar face exited the vehicle. He never came inside the hotel, but rather, stood just beyond the doorways like a looming figure waiting for her. Which was strange considering her uncle, Giovanni, was anything but looming, really. Always laid back, and fun … he was the easiest person to deal with in their family.
She’d gone outside to greet him, and he quickly explained he was there to take her home. Just like that. No room for argument, and he was not taking no for an answer. She had known this was coming. The random texts from her father gave her a good lead up to the fact someone would be coming to get her when it was time. Like they just knew what she was doing—he let her have her moment, but now it was over.
Now—almost home—her uncle finally decided to speak from the driver’s seat. “You’re worrying your father, Lucia. You know that, don’t you?”
“How?”
She didn’t miss the way her uncle’s brow dipped in the rearview mirror. She’d chosen to get in the back seat instead of the front because she figured that would leave her closed off to a conversation. Clearly, that was wrong.
“How?” Giovanni asked.
“That’s what I asked. How am I worrying him?”
“Because—”
“Because I have a life?” she questioned quietly, staring at the passing trees on the highway. It was easier, she felt, to look at anything else but her uncle as she talked. She didn’t want to be angry with Giovanni. It wasn’t his fault for all of this, or the way she was feeling about her father. “Because I’m interested in someone he doesn’t approve of, but let’s be fair to Renzo … Daddy’s not even tried to know who he is, anyway. Or is he worried because—”
“All of that and more,” her uncle muttered heavily. “But mostly because your behavior is not like you, Lucia. Defiance, going off without a word, and forgetting where you came from.”
Lucia’s brow furrowed. She watched the confusion light up her features in the reflection of the glass. And then as quickly as that confusion came, it was replaced by something else entirely. The scoff bubbled up hard in her chest—it was painful as it came out of her mouth, and echoed in the quiet car. She turned, but already found that her uncle was staring at her in the rearview mirror, waiting. That was the thing about Giovanni … he expected people to do things that were out of character, but especially when backed into a corner or under strange circumstances. He didn’t expect people to be unfeeling robots, but rather, emotional beings.
He could handle emotional people.
Not so much frozen statues of nothingness.
“Forget where I came from?” Lucia asked, the sarcasm thick in her tone.
“That’s what I said.”
“I have spent the last while working in a place that I doubt you have ever even stepped foot inside, Uncle Gio. I have fed people who told me thank you because that would be their only
meal for the day. I was given the honor of watching children who were born poor and already oppressed because that’s the situation society has made for them. Yet they still smiled at me every day because at least while they’re young, they don’t know that everyone around them is going to make good and damn sure they are always poor and oppressed.”
Lucia made another disgusted noise—although, not for those people, but rather her family—and sat back in the seat with her arms folded over her chest. “And do you know what I did, then?”
“I don’t, sorry.”
She nodded.
Not surprised.
“I went home every day to a home that would comfortably fit five of those families. To parents who have more money in their bank accounts than most of those people will ever see in their lifetimes. I came home to people who never neglected or abused me, or left me to fend for myself.”
Sighing, she added, “I slept in Egyptian cotton—some of them are lucky if they have cardboard to make the ground softer. I know where each meal of mine is coming from. I can drop five thousand on a pair of shoes, and it won’t even make a dent in my trust fund. I can go to any college I want because my surname affords me that—I didn’t even need the fucking grades for it. Hell, my father was able to get me in for the second semester in California despite their classes being full just because he had enough money to get me on the list.”
“Lucia—”
“And I had the privilege of meeting Renzo,” Lucia continued, ignoring her uncle altogether. “And it is a privilege, Uncle Gio, because despite everything I was seeing at the shelter, I still felt removed from it because I didn’t have to deal with those things at home. He made it real, and he taught me to look beyond what you see on the surface. There is more to people than their money, status, or lack of it. He’s someone who isn’t like me at all, and doesn’t care about my life because he’s too busy trying to survive in his own. But yeah, you go ahead and tell me about how I forgot where I came from. I can’t fucking forget.”
