by Bethany-Kris
DINO’S eyes flew open and he jerked into a straight sitting position at the sound of a door clicking shut. As quiet as the sound was, it still jarred through every nerve ending in his body as if it was a spike being driven into his skull.
At first he stood up, his hands reaching for the gun he usually kept hidden in a holster at his back, but he came up empty. At the same time, he realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket, his dress shirt was unbuttoned all the way down his chest, and he was only in his boxer-briefs.
It took far too many minutes of him standing there, blinking and looking like a fucking fool before he realized where he was and what must have happened.
Karen’s cozy, one-bedroom apartment stared back at him. The black screen of the television was just feet away, still turned off like he had left it that morning. On the table sat his full cup of untouched—likely cold, now—coffee that she had brought him, as well as his notepad and pencil, both resting side by side as if waiting for him to pick them back up and continue with his drawing.
“You’re awake,” Karen said, gliding on past his position to head for the kitchen.
Dino looked over his shoulder at her, taking note of the fact she was dressed for the day, with her beige trench coat cinched tight at her waist and her black heeled boots clicking on the linoleum floor. Hanging from each of her hands were bags—plastic bags from the grocery store.
“You seemed tired,” she said, hefting the bags onto the kitchen table without so much as a glance in his direction.
She had no idea of the war raging inside his head.
Had she just left him there to sleep?
How had he just … slept?
Dino couldn’t remember a single time where he had slept without some kind of nightmare waking him up. The dreams could range from anxiety-inducing, to downright hell. He’d tried everything from medication to getting drunk as shit in an effort to ward off the nightmares before falling asleep, and yet nothing had worked.
Except … something had.
“You must have been tired,” Karen continued on, unloading groceries from the bag and setting the items aside. “It’s almost supper time, Dino.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall, taking in the time and realizing she wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. He had slept all fucking day. Hours—all of them without the triggering pain that could and would leave him mentally debilitated for days.
“You all right?”
Dino looked to Karen, hearing her question and trying to figure out the right way to answer it. A notch appeared between her eyebrows, the first sign of her concern. She wasn’t a stupid woman, and he wasn’t about to treat her like one, so he wasn’t surprised that she noticed something was … off.
“No,” Dino said, though even the word came out hesitant. “Nothing is wrong.”
It was true.
Was he supposed to complain about the fact he was awake, not the least bit tired, and his mind wasn’t filled with the lingering aftereffects of his horrible upbringing?
Because he didn’t think so.
It was just strange.
“Okay,” Karen said, seeming rather chipper as she went about her task.
She unloaded what was left of the groceries quickly, taking a few vegetables to the sink to rinse them off before grabbing some cookware from the cupboards. Dino eventually came to stand in the entryway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall and watching her work. She was smooth about it all, never bothered by his presence or calling him out on his silence.
It was only after she’d began chopping the red and green peppers did she finally turn to him.
“My father has insomnia,” she said.
He was well aware that statement didn’t come out of the blue.
“I don’t,” he offered blandly.
Karen frowned, her gaze turning back on her task as she swiped strips of the cut peppers into a small bowl before setting them aside. “You’ve probably spent what, a couple weeks’ worth of nights at my place, right?”
Dino shrugged. “Probably. Why?”
“You do realize you’re not a small statured man, yeah?”
“Get to the point, Karen.”
She gave him a pensive look over her shoulder that told him to cut the attitude without even saying a word out loud. It wasn’t that he meant to be rude, but Dino knew exactly where this conversation was leading to, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to have it with her.
At least, not right now.
He wasn’t saying never—just not in that moment.
Apparently, Karen was not even close to being on the same wavelength as Dino.
“You walk the halls a lot at night,” Karen said, keeping her back turned to him. “I’ve caught you a couple of times when you’re just staring out the window, and I’ve even called your name, but you didn’t answer me.”
Dino’s throat tightened at the revelation.
Sometimes, he didn’t even need to sleep for the memories to suffocate him.
Sometimes, the darkness of the night was enough to do the deed.
“I don’t have insomnia,” Dino repeated, firmer the second time.
Karen nodded, but didn’t reply.
His words were the truth.
Falling asleep and staying asleep were not the problems for him.
It was what happened when he was already there and couldn’t get himself awake again.
“You did seem quite peaceful earlier,” Karen said softly, still working away, “and I could tell you were tired when I woke up this morning, so I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That’s fair.”
“Was it a good sleep?”
Her question was innocent enough.
“It was, actually,” he admitted.
Karen turned then, a brilliant smile coloring up her features. The sunlight coming in through the small kitchen window almost created a haloed effect around her small form.
If Dino was ever asked to give just one thing to describe what happiness looked like to him, it would be Karen in that moment.
The feeling was profound to him.
Almost foreign.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“I could eat,” he replied, “if you’re cooking.”
Karen laughed, winking before she turned back to the counter. “Lay that charm on, Dino. You know how much I like it.”
He’d never quite thought of himself as charming before.
But it had made her smile again.
Tucked into the corner of the couch, his notepad and pencil back in his hands as he put more detail, more of his memories of the moment he was currently drawing onto the paper, Dino found himself watching Karen again.
She was engrossed in the series marathon playing on television. Her brief bouts of laughter occasionally brought his attention back to her before the moment was gone and he was back to his drawing.
Dino was all too aware that he couldn’t ignore the outside world forever. He couldn’t keep himself locked up in Karen’s apartment for much longer, because someone might finally notice he hadn’t been around.
It wasn’t as if he’d missed anything important. There were no meetings he needed to attend, and his business dealings were being handled by other people, while he’d left the immediate work to his younger brother.
He didn’t really need to go.
Dino worried that pushing his luck might not end well for him.
Tomorrow, he’d head back to his place, and make sure he was seen by the people who needed to see him. That left him with one more night, and oddly, he hoped it was a dreamless one.
“Dino?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
He glanced up at Karen’s call of his name, realizing he’d zoned out again while going back and forth between drawing and watching her. She was such an interesting creature. To some, she probably seemed overtly normal. Nothing extraordinarily special about a woman who could be set beside a hundred other women and not stand out in the crowd.
Dino didn’t think that was true at all.
Anyone who might think that of Karen was missing out on the beauty that radiated from her easy smile and warm eyes.
She couldn’t possibly be just normal.
Not when she was as wonderful as she was.
Karen leaned over a bit, coming closer to his spot at the other end of the couch. “Are you almost done?”
“Done what?”
“Drawing, Dino. That’s what you’ve been doing for the last two hours.”
He looked to the clock—had it been that long?
Smirking, Dino set his pad and pencil aside. “Maybe it’s the company that keeps me occupied and losing time.”
Karen’s cheeks pinked slightly. “Was that a come-on?”
“Not—”
“Because you know all you really need to do is tell me you want to fuck, right?”
Dino’s brow lifted at her blatant suggestion. “Good to know, but that’s not what I was trying to do.”
“Boo, you’re no fun. Can I see your drawing then?”
At that request, Dino did hesitate.
Karen was quick to notice. “You don’t have to. I was just curious.”
He wasn’t sure that she would understand the sketch he’d been working on all day, or for that matter, if she would recognize the battered face staring back at her in the image. The brutality that he’d drawn onto the white page was disconcerting in detail, even to his eye and mind, the very person who had lived it.
“It’s …” Dino stopped whatever he was going to say, knowing it was better if he didn’t refuse her, if only to share something. He didn’t share a lot with Karen, not that she asked him to. It was one of her many wonderful qualities. “Here.”
He passed the notepad over, turning his attention to the television as he dropped his pencil to the coffee table. For a long while, he waited for Karen to say something—anything at all about the image on the paper.
He didn’t need to look at the drawing to know what it was, and he wasn’t quite sure how realistically detailed he had managed to get the image. Honestly, he didn’t really need to, not when his own mind could conjure up the very same moment in time as though he were being shoved back into it.
Blood in his mouth.
Busted lips.
Blackened eyes.
Bruises forming.
Wet pavement.
Dead eyes.
… and a booted foot coming down, readying to connect another violent kick.
He could remember every single vile second of that beating on the night his parents were killed inside their home. And while he couldn’t put the sounds to paper, he could hear his uncle in the background, encouraging the men to continue with their assault. Or his much younger siblings, crying as they were dragged further away from the love and safety he wanted to give to them in a moment that was nothing more than a nightmare.
He hadn’t put the other details into the drawing—ones like the flashing lights of the police cruisers, or the officers standing nearby, their backs turned to hide from the violence happening just behind them.
Finally, Dino heard the soft thump of the notepad being tossed to the coffee table. It was only a second later before Karen was crawling into his lap without a word, her soft hands finding his skin and somehow—some-fucking-how—calming the racing flood of pain and anxiety that coursed through his veins.
“Not insomnia,” she murmured against his neck.
Dino cleared his throat of the thickness building there. “No, it’s definitely not that.”
Her lips pressed to his pulse point, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, wanting to keep her there a bit longer.
Still, she shifted in his embrace, turning to sit with her back flush against his chest. Reaching over, Karen grabbed the notepad and the drawing, resting it on her lap as she stared down at it again.
“It is hauntingly beautiful,” she said, her voice barely breaking a whisper. “It’s awful, you know, but it’s amazing at the same time.”
“I see it more like a nightmare.”
She couldn’t possibly know how true his statement was.
“Why do I have a feeling this is just one of many?” Karen asked.
Dino let his fingers tangle into the waves of her hair, pulling her closer to press a kiss to her temple. “You did think I was a little strange.”
“I never asked why, though.”
“You didn’t really have to.”
THE home of the Outfit boss—Terrance Trentini—was a sprawling estate with two wings, set upon land that was perfectly manicured and always watched. It didn’t seem to matter to Dino if it was his first or fiftieth time visiting the mansion, he managed to feel like a bug under a microscope just standing in the driveway.
The mansion, as looming as it seemed, was lit up on the inside and outside with dancing twinkle lights meant to help celebrate the occasion.
Someone’s birthday, Dino knew.
One of Terrance’s granddaughters, likely.
He didn’t pay that much attention to the occasion when Ben had called with the invitation, though it had been more like a demand. He had brought a generic birthday card with money shoved inside and his signature scrawled across the bottom. It would have to do.
The inside of the mansion, decorated in gold, black, and pink, confirmed Dino’s belief that the celebration had something to do with the Trentini girls. He did the appropriate thing, which meant greeting anyone he saw, as he made his way to the gift table and added his to the hugely growing pile.
The place was filled with Outfit people.
It was also the very last place Dino wanted to be.
He found a quiet corner away from the bulk of the chatting guests, and tried to stay out of the way for the most part. It was easier to do with a drink in his hand, so when a server walked past with a tray of poured whiskeys, Dino was quick to grab one and down over half of it in a single gulp.
The burn of the liquor sliding down his throat was heavenly.
He eyed the people as they mingled, wishing he was far across town in a quiet apartment that didn’t belong to him with a brown-eyed girl that somehow managed to make him feel far more content in his own skin than these people ever had.
Dino had grown up being told the Outfit was his family, and so, he should treat it as such and protect it the same way. He’d never understood that sentiment.
How could he, when it seemed like the only thing the Outfit had ever done for Dino—or even his siblings, really—had been to hurt them?
Murdering his parents …
Leaving them orphans …
Pretending they didn’t know the monsters they were left with …
Uncaring if they did know …
It was a strange mindset to have—to care for these people as if they were his family.
“You’re awfully quiet over here,” Ben said as he leaned back into the wall, mimicking Dino’s position. “I barely noticed you.”
Dino had known his uncle was approaching, if only because it was damn near impossible to not see Ben DeLuca in a crowd, but he had ignored the man, hoping he would overlook him. Clearly, he had hoped for too much.
“Having a drink,” Dino said, lifting his glass to show the few sips of whiskey he had left.
“Shame your sister is missing this,” Ben mused.
Dino resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead taking a drink to get the burn in his throat again to keep him quiet.
“Lily would enjoy this,” Ben continued.
Dino couldn’t stay quiet at that. “Lily would hate something like this.”
Ben’s brow lifted. “Being celebrated and treated like a princess?”
“Being in the spotlight.”
A dry chuckle escaped Ben.
“Well, she would learn to like it, I suppose.”
Dino hid his frown by looking away, knowing that wasn’t true but unwilling to argue the point any further with Ben. No matter what he said, Ben was stuc
k in his beliefs, and it was pointless to attempt any change.
“Speaking of Lily,” Ben continued, clearly unaware of Dino’s lack of attention to the conversation, “have you spoken to her?”
“Briefly,” Dino said.
That was a lie.
Over the last few months, Lily’s calls had dissipated into practically nothing at all. The postcards she sent each time she arrived somewhere new, had also slowed down—going from three a month, to one every couple of months if Dino was lucky. He wasn’t worried about his sister, as far as that went, but it did bother him on some level.
Lily had left Chicago because she wanted to get away. She wanted to leave the Outfit and the people behind, and she didn’t want to be stuck here, living for what benefited the family, instead of what benefited her.
She’d long held a grudge where the Outfit was concerned for taking away her mother and father, and the dreams and ideals she’d held as a child.
Dino understood that had to be painful for his sister.
He figured—though not from being told from Lily herself—that after finally being given some freedom, that grudge she held was finally allowed to grow. He imagined it was easier to hate people when they weren’t staring you right in the face.
Lily would never admit it herself, but Dino was all too aware of what she was doing.
Running.
Running from her past and the Outfit.
Keeping herself happy by staying away.
Forcing herself into the constant present so she never had to deal with the past.
He figured no harm, no foul.
Lily had no need to come back to Chicago, at least not from Dino’s perspective, and so he would let her run.
For now.
“And?” Ben pressed, bringing Dino back to the conversation at hand.
“And what, Ben?”
“Where was she the last time you spoke?”
Dino lied, because he couldn’t remember. “A small town outside of Italy. She was lodging there before she went off again.”
“Funny.”
A trickle of unease crawled down Dino’s spine. “What?”
“Carmela was talking to Lily a few days ago—she called the house trying to find a number for Theo,” Ben stated rather absently.
