Stay

by Chelsea Camaron

  “It took some time, but I understand now that I took things too far. Sometimes, we must find satisfaction in our place, not look for the next step. I pushed and you pulled. In the end, the tug of war we played was a dead end.” Tears filled my eyes. “The ones who took everything good from me will pay. As I bring you back to your family, I make this solemn vow: I will make them pay.”

  Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the small, unremarkable urn then dug into the ground more and buried it.

  The Diamante family was whole once again, while I was still shattered into a million pieces.

  ~~~~

  Six Months Later

  It took some time. More than that, it took a whole lot of looking over my shoulder. I did it, though. A decent payoff kept the news from spreading that Fallyn Nicola Valencia was alive, but it took a lot of money cushioning more than a few pockets. Giano had left me more than enough, though, and I intended to use it in any way necessary.

  After two classes together for almost a full semester and becoming his study partner, Nicola had gone from shy, quiet girl, to Paul Castillo’s new interest. Sure, this required a forged transcript, a different name—Nicola Vincenzo—highlights in my hair, and green contacts, but I had pulled it off. Tonight, we had our first, official date.

  Paul picked me up and took me to an upscale restaurant. I made sure to order a salad and put on my best act to be more like a normal girl. Think like Mandy, I told myself. After all, I had spent how many years pretending to be someone I wasn’t, so what was another new identity under the rug, anyway?

  Afterward, we made our way back to his apartment. He was one groping man, and it annoyed me. I fought to keep my composure as he kissed me. The bile rose in my throat, and I wanted nothing more than to vomit all over his overpriced suit. I didn’t, though. I steeled my nerves, set my resolve, and stayed determined and focused on the task at hand.

  Wearing a cardigan, I had strapped my knife inside the sleeve. Once inside, I let grabby hands get his feel. Using my hand, I stroked him through his dress pants, and his erection grew solid under my attentions. Pushing back, I bit my bottom lip while gripping him hard, smiling wickedly at him. While he focused on my face and his dirty mind, I slid the knife down and into place.

  He bent to suck hard on my neck, and I slammed the knife into his gut and twisted and twisted again. He fell forward, hunching over me as I let his weight push the metal blade in deeper. Then I twisted again.

  He pulled away to look at me, the jagged edge only shredding him further.

  “Direct hit to your spleen.”

  As he jumped back, I kept a firm grip on my handle, and the knife slid out, doing more damage on the exit than it had on the entrance. His hands came to his abdomen, and he looked down in shock at the blood. I struck again, and he hunched instinctively again, his weight allowing my plunge to go deeper. I twisted as I heard him gasp for air. I put my arm on his back and pushed him down on my blade as I again twisted.

  “Element of surprise. You’re in shock and not thinking to react and fight back. Now your adrenaline is kicking in, causing you to bleed further. Your lung is punctured, and breathing is a chore. You see, Paul, Giancarlo was a man the Castillos should have been careful of. He was a smart and skilled man,” I hissed at him. “He taught me to let the blade do the work, and the weight provide the pressure. Sure, that was for apples, meats, and cheeses, but hey, it’s all the same, right?”

  He jerked away, harshly ripping the knife from my hand. Gasping for breath, he stumbled back as I moved beyond him to exit the place. Once out front, I made the call to the only person I had left, and he got me by matter of circumstance.

  “Uncle ZoZo, I need you,” I said then rattled off the address.

  Waiting, I listened as Paul stumbled around his place. His cell phone was in my purse since I had swiped it at dinner. He didn’t have a home phone, so while he fumbled helplessly, I waited.

  ZoZo arrived and only shook his head as he took over cleaning up my mess.

  One down, one more to go. My father was already dead, so I couldn’t punish him for taking away Papa Valencia. Remo Castillo, however, could and would be punished. The first step was taking away his only son the same way he had taken away my only savior. Next, I would take back my family business before I took his life.

  I wasn’t home long before Alanzo showed up as I expected him to.

  “Angel,” he greeted, letting himself in.

  “Fallyn,” I corrected.

  “This isn’t what Giano would have wanted for you.”

  “Well, he isn’t here to decide what I do anymore, now is he?”

  “Vengeance does more harm than good. People get sloppy when they do things out of anger and hatred.”

  I huffed at him. “Yeah, like Giano taking me instead of fulfilling his plan.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. He asked me to look out for you. He knew a time would come when he would slip up with you. That’s how I knew about the papers in the safe that would give you back your identity. Within days of bringing you home, Giano was already putting into play what would happen when things got too deep.

  “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be naked when he said his good-byes, but I knew from the beginning, if you were in danger from him at any angle, he would take himself out. A good man sacrificed himself to continue to give good to you. Don’t let that all be for nothing.”

  “It’s not,” I reassured.

  “Settle down and find a man to treasure you. Let the past go and start anew. He wanted you to have a new life. Give him that in his death.”

  A man to treasure me—that’s what Giano had always said. In time, maybe I could find that, but until that day came, I had a plan, and it was one I fully intended to fulfill, with or without Alanzo.

  Without a goal, there was nothing to achieve. With nothing to achieve, there was no drive. Giano had given me plenty of opportunities, but no goal. In his wake, I had a goal. I had a drive.

  Some people were meant to be alone, and I had come to the realization I was one of those people. Seriously sick and twisted from the inside out, I didn’t deserve anyone for the long-term or the short-term. Giano shouldn’t have saved me that night. He should have let me stay.

  I had come full circle once again. I knew this wouldn’t be over until I had covered myself in Remo Castillo’s mess.

  Maybe then I would find a peace and maybe then I would find a place where I felt I could stay.

  Epilogue Two

  Angelina Nylene Diamante

  Five Years Later

  Funny how things changed. The internship paperwork sat in front of me, and once again, the first line caused me to pause.

  Name.

  It took time. More than that, it took not giving up, but continuing to exist. Alanzo helped me set up a new start on the West Coast. The small Oregon town was a short commute to the college and gave me the sense of security I once again found in solitude. With Giano dead and having had a public service, Alanzo felt that my move to the West would mean I would stay relatively safe. Giano’s enemies no longer needed me for leverage with him gone, and my desire to relocate only pushed me further off their radars.

  With the aid of a long-time resident who happened to be a realtor, I had found a small, two bedroom cabin to purchase and begun my life once again. True to his word, Giano had made sure I was taken care of. Life insurance, stocks, bonds, and assets were all left to me. Once cashed in, I could afford to pay for my home, my education, my travel, and still allow myself a solid nest egg for the future.

  No, I didn’t have to feel the financial struggle. I just had struggles of a whole different variety. How did one cope with having no one to hold on to?

  After Giano had taken his life in front of me, my world had crumbled around me. The days passed by, and I wondered why I was still there.

  Angelina Nylene Diamante.

  The picture I loved so much of her behind the bubble called to me. The blurred
face still seemed to speak to me. Her eyes were hidden behind the innocence of childhood behaviors. Everything she lost, I gained. How could I throw her gift away?

  My eyes reminded him of Nylene. My face reminded him of Angelina. His angel. I was his angel, his gift from the ones he loved most. How could I toss that away when I should have had no existence beyond being my father’s play thing for his sick needs?

  The road before me was still long, the end nowhere in sight. Studying psychology, I was hoping to understand myself and those who were once around me so that maybe, in the future, the past wouldn’t repeat itself. A girl could only hope.

  In my studies, we had been told, for some people, love was a choice. We somehow choose whether to love someone or not. I didn’t know whether I agreed with that statement or not.

  Scientists and doctors found great success in breaking down the chemical makeup of a human being. They wanted to fix our depression with a pill. Physicians all agreed exercise had an impact on one’s mental health. Getting the blood pumping and increased endorphins all aided in overall well-being. I didn’t know that I agreed with that analysis, either.

  It had been my experience that, if you were drawn to someone, had a bond, those things weren’t done by choice, but rather by something bigger than all of us. I didn’t believe in faith, karma, destiny, or a connection of souls. What I had a firm foundation in was the touch of an angel. It was the angel of Nylene and Angelina Diamante that saved me all those years ago. I could believe in that. They didn’t fail me whenever everyone and everything else did.

  Opening my desk drawer, I took out the picture from my old wall that Alanzo had cleaned of Giano’s blood. Angelina’s dark hair flowed in the sunlight. Her back was to me, as always. My faceless angel always carried me through. When no one else would stay, she was always there.

  Classes had taught me that children outgrew imaginary friends. Angelina wasn’t a figment of my imagination, though; she was as real as I was. No longer was I torn between my existence and her loss, but rather, we were one in the same—two little girls with innocence gone. Hers was ripped away in an act of violence, and mine had never existed.

  Giano had said he touched innocence, that I was his redemption for seeking retribution. He was wrong, and it cost him everything.

  How could he touch innocence when I set him up? In my sick and twisted desires, I had killed the only person who had ever cared to save me. His blood was on my hands, just like my father’s.

  No doubt, Giano would have killed him that night regardless, but it was my face he saw last, my body he touched last. I could have cried out. I could have warned him. I didn’t. He got what he deserved.

  Giano hadn’t deserved what I did. He hadn’t deserved the lust and want of a young woman to rage so out of control that she got him drunk to let down his inhibitions in order to feed her greediness.

  “My baby girl, always so greedy.” My father’s words came back to haunt me. He was right, and he was wrong. I was greedy, but I was not his baby girl. The day he touched me, he tainted me; he darkened my soul. The day he touched me, I was no longer a baby.

  Giano saw his wife and daughter in my eyes. He longed to have his family again and clung to hope through me. He saw an innocence he only wished was there, and in the end, my blackened soul consumed him, too.

  While I didn’t agree with love being simply a choice, and I didn’t agree that we as humans all had chemical imbalances, I did hold firm that we all had a choice, and we all were imbalanced.

  I had a choice with Giano—to accept our relationship for what it was. I chose to push the boundaries. I chose wrong. I looked too far into things and saw only what I wanted to see, not what was really there. He had paid the price.

  Nothing in my life had ever been balanced, fair, or just. I was a black widow of my own making, poisoning everything and everyone around me.

  What I had learned in my losses was that solitude was my savior. I had escaped hell with my family and never allowed myself to be the version of Angelina I wanted to be. I had lived in a bubble of my own creation, and it was as twisted as anyone could imagine.

  To the outsider, I seduced my father when, in reality, my father had tainted me, and my savior had become my victim. The killer became the killed. Only, it wasn’t by my hands in the literal sense, but in my actions.

  I owned that. I lived it, breathed it, and tried to lock it away in my blackened soul. I failed. Therefore, now here I was, studying psychology in the hopes of one day saving myself.

  Giano had always told me I needed a man to treasure me. He had wanted me to wait for a man and not a boy. He was right, but he left a part out. See, in order for a man to treasure me, I first had to treasure myself.

  I was broken, cursed, jaded, and defeated, yet I also was finding my way back to the new me. I would somehow give Giano the redemption he sought by finding a way to love myself, and then maybe one day I could believe someone else could love me.

  When it was all said and done, hope had gotten me through every minute of every day this far, and no matter what the future would bring me, I couldn’t lose hope to break the cycle of pain.

  Dare I hope, dare I dream, maybe one day I could believe someone would stay.

  About the Author

  Chelsea Camaron is a USA Today bestselling author who was born and raised in coastal North Carolina. She currently resides in southern Louisiana with her husband and two children, but her heart is forever Carolina day dreaming. Chelsea always wanted to be a writer, but like most of us, let fear of the unknown grab ahold of her dream. Finally, she realized that, if she was going to tell her daughter to go for her dreams, it was time to follow her own advice. When she’s not spending her days writing, you can find her playing with her kids, attending car shows, going on motorcycle rides on the back of her husband’s Harley, snuggling down with her new favorite book, or watching any movie that Vin Diesel might happen to be in.

  Chelsea can be found on social media at:

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorchelseacamaron

  Twitter: @chelseacamaron

  Email: chelseacamaron@gmail.com

  Other works by Chelsea Camaron

  Love and Repair Series:

  Crash and Burn

  Restore My Heart

  Salvaged

  Full Throttle

  Beyond Repair

  Stalled

  Box Set Available

  Hellions Ride Series:

  One Ride

  Forever Ride

  Merciless Ride

  Eternal Ride

  Innocent Ride

  Simple Ride (coming Fall 2015)

  Heated Ride (coming Winter 2015)

  Originals Ride (coming 2016)

  Final Ride (coming 2016)

  Roughnecks Series:

  Maverick

  Heath

  Lance

  Box Set Available

  The Fire Inside Series:

  Co-written by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt:

  Kale

  Mason (coming 2015)

  Ryan (coming 2016)

  Zeke (TBD)

  Devin (TBD)

  Regulators MC Series:

  Co-written by Jessie Lane:

  Ice

  Hammer (coming 2015)

  Coal (coming 2016)

  Caldwell Brothers Series:

  Co-written by MJ Fields:

  Hendrix

  Morrison (coming December 2015)

  Jagger (coming April 2016)

  I know this book was a bit of a tease with the whole mafia tie in. For those of you who love a good mob book, my dear friend author Ryan Michele has a new release, Blood & Loyalties, coming out in October 26, 2015. I have had the opportunity to read this book in advance, and I loved it. If you love romantic suspense with a tough as nails heroine, you will love this book!

  Exerpt Blood & Loyalties By Ryan Michele

  ©Ryan Michele 2015

  Chapter 1—Catarina

  “You stupid fuckin
g bitch!” Antonio seethed like a pussy as he looked up from the filthy-ass floor of the bar, holding his throbbing crotch.

  I laughed, tossing my head back for good measure. Bitch was the worst he could come up with? I had been called worse than that at work when I lost a client’s millions on a bum deal.

  I picked up the pointed heel of my black, stiletto boot and plowed it hard into his windpipe, crushing it as he gasped for breath, his eyes wide with fear. He needed to be taught a lesson about fucking over a Lambardoni. It did not come without repercussions, and I wanted to be the one to teach him.

  Unfortunately, I knew my bodyguards had called my brother Val. They always did when shit with me happened, and if I didn’t get on with it, Val would ruin all my fun. I was more than capable of handling this weak, pathetic asshole. Val should know that. He and my other brother D had trained me to fight and shoot a target with precision, but something about being “the sister” gave them the right to be overprotective and overbearing, even if I was older than both of them.

  As I removed my foot, one of his hands wrapped around his throat as the other continued to grip his aching crotch. The stupid fucker didn’t know whether to grab his balls or neck, his arms flailing in both directions as he rolled from one side to the next, trying to ease the pain. He gasped for breath, the look of confusion in his eyes laughable. I did pack one hell of a powerful knee thrust, though. No doubt his balls were shoved so deep inside he could taste them in his mouth.

  Wicked thoughts crept in my head. Using my best weapon of the moment—the hot ass boots Kiera had insisted I wear for the night—I picked a spot on his rib cage and began kicking it over and over again, plowing into him, hoping like hell the blows would crack the fuckers. It was the least he deserved.

  I moved with him at each turn he tried to make, hitting him dead in the same spot. He grunted and attempted to bat my foot away from his body with his hands as he tried to hold himself at the same time. His less than stealthily attempts only made him look like a bigger pansy-assed bitch. It was amazing how much actual joy I felt from watching him struggle.