Salvatore: An In Too Far Novel

by Cecy Robson

  Holy shit. Lucca hates Vin.

  Can’t say he’s alone.

  He notices me watching him. The lethal stare he pegs me with almost has me reaching for my piece. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sal?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

  He’s not asking me why I haven’t left. No, there’s more to his question. But I’m not telling him shit.

  Shots fire, causing Lucca and me to dive on the floor.

  My sig is out as I army crawl along the floor and squat on the wall beside Donnie’s door. Lucca’s on the opposite side, his piece tight in his grip. In our brief exchange, I know he’s thinking the same thing I am: someone followed them here to take Vin out.

  It’s Vin’s voice and tone that bottom out my stomach and tell me more than I want to know.

  “Fuck,” he says. “Holy fuck.”

  My head falls back against the wall and my heavy hands lower to the floor. No, baby girl . . . no.

  It takes me too many long seconds, but I eventually stand.

  I house my piece and slowly open the door.

  “Sal?” Lucca asks.

  I know what I’m about to see. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to see it.

  Blood seeps from what looks like a flesh wound on Vin’s shoulder, staining his dress shirt. His pants are down to his ankles and his body shakes as he cowers on the floor.

  I wonder briefly how many sucks Donnie got in before she snagged Vin’s gun. It couldn’t have been too many. But it was enough to shoot him before she turned the gun on herself.

  Lucca steps in behind me. Unlike me, his piece remains drawn. “Jesus,” he says.

  Donnie, the girl from the neighborhood, the one I grew up with, the one all the girls wanted to be, lays sprawled across the floor, her blood-soaked hair covering her once beautiful face.

  In a thousand years, I’ll never erase that moment from my mind. I don’t deserve a reprieve or mercy. Donnie did.

  “Crazy bitch fucking shot me,” Vin says, like it’s not obvious. He’s shaking hard, from pain, fear, and God only knows what else. “If I hadn’t moved, she would have nailed me in the chest. I need a cleanup crew now—and the doc. Have them dump the body upstate—”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I tell him. I feel wobbly as I rise, but when I face him, my features harden along with my stance.

  “What did you say to me?” Vin asks, scorn halting the quiver to his voice.

  I don’t feel myself move. From one second to the next, I’m hauling Vin up against the wall by his throat. Lucca’s hand goes up, his piece aimed at my head, but my focus is all on Vin and his reddening face. Vin slaps at my wrists, trying to talk. I don’t let him.

  “I’m out,” I tell him.

  Drool spills from his mouth. He tries to argue. I give another squeeze. Donnie was a friend. My friend. Lying there like she is, she could have been Aedry, or my brothers. When it comes down to it, Vin has never given a shit about anyone but himself, not even a woman who would have killed for him.

  My eyes sting briefly for who Donnie was―that girl from the block who didn’t want to be poor, who wanted to be something better, who just wanted Vin to fucking love her.

  I can’t mourn for who Donnie was or what she became. Not now. Just like I can’t stay in this world any longer.

  “I’m not asking you,” I say. “I’m telling you. I’m out. And if you come after me, or anyone that’s mine, you’ll fucking wish the bosses finished you off.”

  I drop him like the trash he is and storm away, his mangled chokes the only sound I hear until I reach the front door and Lucca calls out.

  “Sal . . . I can’t let you leave.”

  Maybe he saw me reach for my Sig as I stalked out or maybe he didn’t. I don’t have to turn around to know his gun is out and ready to fire.

  I grit my teeth. “I’m done, Lucca. I’ll fight Vin and I’ll fight anyone he sends after me, but I don’t want to fight you.”

  I don’t hear him so much as feel him approach. I whip around, my gun out.

  Something in his stare keeps me from firing. Slowly, he lowers his gun. “You want out, go,” he says. “It’s not too late for you.”

  I watch him, unsure if he’s lying. “What was your woman’s name―Aedry? It’s not too late for you and Aedry.”

  Maybe it’s hearing Aedry’s name or the way that he says it that makes me believe him. “It’s not too late for you, either,” I tell him, remembering the way he looked at Autumn. “Walk away. Give yourself a life away from this shit.”

  “You little bitch!” Vin calls out. “Kill him, Lucca. Kill him now, God damn it.”

  Lucca shakes his head, slow and purposeful. “I’m not done. Not with Vin or the rest of the bosses,” he says.

  I freeze in place, taking in what he tells me. “Go,” Lucca says, his tone more of a growl.

  In the brief flash of Lucca’s eyes, I see everything he’s about to do. I rush to the door, careful not to make noise.

  Lucca’s fast. The shots fired through his silencer are seconds apart. “That was for my sister, motherfucker.”

  I shut the door behind me. I don’t have to be in the room to know he’s talking to Vin’s corpse. Yeah, there was more to Lucca than any of us could have known. A lot more.

  Epilogue

  Salvatore

  My new Range Rover eases down the county road as the air conditioning streams along my arms at full blast. A hundred degrees. That’s how hot it is in North Carolina.

  “You sure we’re going the right way, G?” Apollo asks from where he’s sitting in the back.

  “No. Siri’s not answering shit out here. But that guy at the market said this is the right road,” Gianno tells him. “Right, Sal?”

  I nod, but I don’t say much, my head racing with too many thoughts. The last thing I heard before we left Jersey is that the remaining bosses are battling it out for Vin’s territories. The shit-storm he started caused a lot of bad blood. Every boss wants more, and everyone is willing to kill for it.

  Fine. Let them. It’s no longer my problem. And I swear to Christ it never will be.

  Days. That’s all it took us to sell our place, pack our shit, and move out of the state. We were ready to leave the area and all the bad memories behind.

  We’ve been here almost a week, in the town next to where Aedry is supposedly living. The realtor Gianno found online has been showing us around. There’s a long list of places we like, close to the MMA gym I want to buy.

  It’s nice here. Good schools. Quiet. Lots of land, and close to outdoor malls more akin to Rodeo Drive than anything I pictured in the south. Although we’re here, I can’t be sure we’ll stay.

  Not if Aedry doesn’t want me.

  I pass my hand through my short hair. I stopped shaving my head the night Donnie killed herself. It sounds insane, but the hair marks my rebirth―and one of many steps I’m taking to what I hope will be a better life. I’m not sure Aedry will like it. I’m not even sure she’ll like me―not after everything I put her through.

  Hell, who am I kidding? For all I know, she hates me.

  It’s the reason I’ve been dragging my feet trying to find her. It wasn’t until this morning that I finally worked up the courage to go to the little cottage she’s renting and knock on the door. I stood there waiting, only for the little old lady watering her lawn next door to call to me.

  “Hey, there,” she yelled. “Y’all lookin’ for Aedry?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

  “She’s at her folks place a few miles past the farmer’s market.”

  She made it sound easy, but we’re still looking for her, even with all those people we asked for directions.

  My ride kicks up more dirt, slowing when Siri finally decides to make an appearance. “You have reached your destination,” she tells us.

  “Is she serious?” Apollo asks.

  To our left is a huge field, extending to a hilltop lined with trees. To our right is pretty much the same, except for
an old barn near the road. I roll to a stop and set my ride in park, trying to figure out what to do, just in time for the barn door to swing open.

  “Holy shit,” Gianno says, slowly. “Look at Aedry.”

  My world grinds to a halt. Aedry steps out, carrying a basket tucked under her arm. The puppy I sent her bounces loyally beside her, wagging its tail.

  “Good girl, Midnight,” she tells it.

  Aedry’s dark wavy hair is longer, brushing against the tie of her red bikini top as she closes the door with her foot. She doesn’t bother to glance our way, walking down a small path, her tiny denim shorts clutching her ass as her cowboy boots dig into the mud.

  Apollo shoves himself between our seats, trying to get one last view of her as she disappears behind the barn.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” I snap, pushing him back.

  “Sorry, Sal,” he says. “But damn. Did you see her?”

  I let out a breath. “Yeah. I saw her.”

  Gianno whips his head toward me, his eyes wide. “Don’t fuck this up, Sal.”

  “Yeah. Don’t fuck it up,” Apollo agrees, staring back to where she disappeared.

  I swing open my door, muttering a few swears and forgetting the flowers I brought. I move fast, prowling forward. For all I thought I was ready to see her, I’m not.

  She looks . . . beautiful. What kicks at my gut is that she also looks happy. This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered if she’s better off without me, or if she’s found someone else―someone who makes her smile, draws her laughter, and fires her passion―someone who didn’t make her cry like I did.

  My feet stomp as I steel myself for what she may say or do. If she tells me to leave―if she doesn’t want to see me―I’ll go. I won’t like it, but I’ll respect it. Even if it finishes killing what’s left of me.

  The moment I clear the barn, a large white house with a wrap-around porch comes into view, a sprawling pasture just behind it. The whole place resembles a painting, too perfect to be real.

  It doesn’t hold my attention. Aedry does.

  Her hair flutters behind her as a warm breeze coasts along the field. I’m not sure if I should yell her name, wait to get closer, or―fuck―I don’t know what to do. All I know is the need to have her in my arms.

  Her dog whips around, barking and growling, alerting her of my presence. She turns, slowly, her eyebrows lifting when she sees me. I stop a few yards away from her, staring at the way her hair flows around her.

  I’m dressed in dark jeans and a tight black T. With my hair growing out like it is, at first, it’s almost like she doesn’t recognize me.

  But then she does.

  The basket falls at her feet when she clasps her mouth, the motion revealing the depth of her shock. I don’t think she wants me here, but from one breath to the next she takes off, racing toward me.

  I charge forward, lifting her when she throws herself into my arms and straddles me. My lips find hers, seeking her out as my hands sweep through her hair and along her back, clutching her tighter against me. Christ, it’s like we’ve never been apart―my body, my mouth, my damn heart, as hungry for her as she is for my touch.

  I don’t want to let her go, kissing her until she finally pulls away.

  Her soft smile warms me, but it’s the tears shimmering her blue eyes that remind me how much I hurt her. Her fingertips trail along my jaw and her gaze sweeps along my form.

  “You’re here,” she says, hardly believing it.

  “Yeah, I am.” I ignore the dog continuing to circle us, my voice breathless. “I went to your house. Your neighbor told me where to find you.”

  She motions behind her to the field. “They needed help milking.”

  “I don’t know what the fuck that means,” I tell her honestly.

  Her laugh stirs my smile and squeezes my heart like only she can. “The dairy cows,” she reminds me. “The ones my parents bought.”

  She quiets then, pressing her forehead against mine, relief and maybe a little pain, too, flooding her small features. Our closeness allows me to feel her body heat and bask in everything I’ve missed about her. That perfume, the flowery one she wears, seeps into my nose, and her hair feathers against my cheek, reminding me of all those times she fell asleep against me and how easily she stole my heart.

  I stroke her back in the silence that follows, wondering how I ever survived without her and assuring myself that, at least for the moment, she wants me with her.

  “You’re safe?” she asks, her gentle voice cutting through the sounds of the birds singing and her dog panting at my feet. At my nod, she glances over my shoulder. “And the boys?”

  “The boys” she says, that familiar sweetness reminding me of everything that makes her Aedry. “They’re good,” I answer. “In my ride waiting for me.”

  I lower her to the ground, but maintain my grip on her hips, trying to speak.

  Shame born from my sins forces my gaze briefly away. But when I meet her face―God, that beautiful face―my words are strong. “I’m out,” I tell her. She lowers her head in a way that tells me she understands. “I’m not a part of it―and I won’t be anymore.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, I spill the rest. “I moved here a few days ago.” She jerks her chin up, her eyes rounding. “For you . . . for us. I don’t want to be without you. But if you don’t want me, I promise I won’t stay.”

  Tears spill down her cheeks, driving that spike deeper into my chest. My fingers glide along her hips. “I love you,” I tell her, pleading with her to believe me. “And I’m sorry for everything―every last lie and everything I’ve done to hurt you.” I all but fall to my knees when she remains quiet. “Please, Adrianna . . . give me another chance to love you.”

  Her expression crumbles as tears drench her face. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” she asks, her voice breaking. “Do you know how hard I’ve cried being without you?”

  My throat tightens. “I lost my soul when I lost you,” I confess, everything I’m feeling slicing into each word. “You’re my world, Adrianna.”

  She chokes back a sob, nodding like she understands what I’m feeling. “No more lies?” she asks. “No more secrets?”

  “No,” I rasp. “I know I messed up. I know I’ve hurt you. But if you let me, I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  I fall to one knee, pulling the small velvet box from my pocket. This isn’t the ring I tossed, the one from that man who wasn’t good enough for her. It’s the antique one I found on her birthday, the one that made me want to be that better man for her.

  She takes in the ring, her cries hard enough to rock her shoulders, but not enough to stop her smile. “Forever?” she asks.

  “Forever,” I promise.

  READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM

  Excerpt of Let Me

  Let Me

  An O’Brien Family Novel

  by Cecy Robson

  CHAPTER 1

  Finn

  I see the strike coming at me a split second before it connects with my skull. My head snaps back from the force, the crowds’ hollers resonating like a muffled cry in the distance. It was a good punch―lightning quick with enough impact to knock most guys on their asses. But I’m not most guys.

  You hit me, I’m only going to hit you harder.

  My right hand shoots up, blocking and smacking away the kick gunning for my ribs. I pivot out of the way, again, and again, and again, avoiding Easton’s arms and legs as they come at me. He’s fast, strong, with a six inch reach advantage. But he’s too eager to take me out and not pacing himself like he should. Already he’s breathing hard and it’s just the start of the second round.

  I take my time to figure him out, planning each move, searching for that opening I need. Do I take a few bashes because of it? Sure. It’s part of the job. But believe it or not, it’s part of the job I look forward to.

  Those punches and kicks remind me that I still feel, that I�
�m still human. And that for now, I’m still alive.

  “Oh!” some drunk behind me yells when my uppercut finds Easton’s chin.

  He staggers back, swiping the blood oozing from his lip, yet he keeps his grin. He’s trying to make like it was a lucky shot. That it won’t happen again.

  Like me, Easton needs to win this match. And if he does, he’ll move up to the top ten, making him a contender for the UFC Lightweight title.

  Talent aside, the guy’s a raging asshole, and so are the idiots in his training camp. They’ve been trash-talking since the moment I agreed to this match. I didn’t really care and laughed most of it off until they got personal and took it a step too far.

  Again he nails me in the head. It’s not as hard as it was last time which tells me he’s getting tired. Does it hurt? I guess.

  But let’s say I’m a guy who’s used to pain.

  Easton grins. He thinks I’m afraid of him. He thinks he has me where he wants me. But fear is an emotion I don’t allow myself to entertain. Fear gets you hurt and rips you apart till you think there’s nothing left.

  I dodge out of reach. He scowls and takes another swing. This one gets close enough to my jaw to create a breeze that whips across my skin.

  “Finn,” my brother Killian barks from the side. “Take him out now.”

  He’s worried about me. So is my family. But now’s not the time to think about them. I keep my hands up as I edge away, letting Easton think I’m backing down, that I’m tired and need to catch my breath.

  I sidestep when he lunges forward, avoiding his next swing and use the momentum to drop my head and nail him in the temple with a roundhouse kick.

  Like I said, Easton’s fast.

  Too bad for him I’m a little bit faster.

  The kick is my signature move, as natural for me as the next breath. He goes down like I planned. But in the Octagon you don’t stop just because your opponent collapses like timber. You charge forward. You show him what you’re made of. And you prove just how tough you really are.