Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “Get off me!” I spit and inch away from my father. I’m purely driven by the overpowering idea that my father, or better yet my brother, are behind this. Why wait for me when the power was always theirs to abuse? “It was you, wasn’t it, you Bastardo? Come hai potuto?” I yell, my bilingual nature coming out with my grief and anger as I wonder how he could do this. “You gave me that pep talk to soften me up to hear this!”

  My irrationality escalates, and I stand up. I have to get away from him if I’m going to remain strong during this. However, the look he gives me tells me I have fed my unfounded thoughts too much. He looks broken, hurt even as he stands before me.

  “I never had anything to do with this,” my father responds calmly, seemingly confused.

  “Why should I believe you?” I ask him rhetorically and feel my own incredulity ripple through me. I feel like such a fool for believing in him earlier. I believed everything was going to work out, but I was an imprudent woman for thinking that. I have no idea why my gut instinct is telling me he had a hand in it, and I can’t fight the need to blame him. After all of his threats and all of our arguments, how do I find the strength not to see him as instigator to Zane’s shooting? “Because you’re such a man of honesty, aren’t you?”

  “Amelia, Bambina, this isn’t on me!” he defends himself fiercely. “I vowed to allow you this hit. If I wanted him dead, I wouldn’t have left him half-dead. I would have made sure that fucker was stone cold dead before I left him.”

  I pale at the thought of my father standing over Zane’s dead body. It’s not a pleasant view, and my heart cramps at the concept. I know my father is right – he would never have left Zane with a chance to be revived. However, I remain silent, unable to believe anyone until I know what really happened and who really was behind this.

  “What else was said?” My father rises to his feet, washing away his softer exterior and replacing his father stance with the mob boss one.

  “They were ambushed by an unknown assailant while out on a call nearby to here. That’s all I was able to find out.” Enzo speaks so gravely, and I can tell from the way he won’t look at me that he knows the severity of this. “They were called out to a disturbance, but it was all a hoax.”

  “And Billy?” my father asks regarding our lead informant within the Manhattan PD. “Is he okay?”

  “Took a bullet to the arm and side,” Enzo relays the truth of the matter. “He made a point of contacting us as soon as he could, but he’s in surgery now, too. He fought medical staff to call me.”

  My father blanches at the thought of one of his most trusted men in danger. Billy is the only cop who decided to become dirty and work with the mafia. He needed money, and he has a lack in conscience that drove him to make the decision. Ever since, fifteen years ago, he hasn’t stepped out of line once. He was the one who informed my father of Zane’s latest project – The Abbiatis.

  The thought of all this sickens me, but I can’t just stand here. I’m dressed to the nines, supposed to be celebrating a new year of my life, and I feel like grief is yanking at the hem of my skirt, waiting to transform me into a howling banshee.

  “What about Zane?” I ask feebly, still lost in a trance of skepticism. “Please, Enzo, what were you told?”

  Now, when he finally looks at me, the weight of his gaze is an enormity I wasn’t prepared for. “Lia, I don’t know much more than the fact he took three bullets to the abdomen and one to the thigh.” I can see he’s praying his strength will keep me going. “It wasn’t a shootout either. Zane had no chance to fire a bullet before he was shot in the thigh deliberately to disarm him. Billy explained how the shooter shot him in the abdomen before making a beeline for Zane.” His eyes twist with darkness. “This was calculated.”

  I hiccup on a cry, and I’m glad when Carlo steps in to put his arms around me. I know I need to stay strong – after all, my father is watching – but right now, I’m in a tangled web of panic. I shakily wipe my tears away and strive to regain some poise in order to see me out of this room and into privacy away from prying eyes in this room.

  “This is proof you love that man too much,” my father argues at my emotional input.

  “I was about to say the same thing,” Giovanni pipes up, still relaxed and merry in our father’s chair. “You should be fucking happy this family can live on in peace without him hovering over us.”

  “I don’t care,” I remark shakily, ignoring Giovanni completely. “I gave you my new plan, now you have to honor me that.” My lies swoop from me with ease. “This will grant me the chance to do what I said.” My eyes water at the thought that Zane is already dead in a hospital, but my mind tells me he’s fighting for us. “You might want him dead as soon as possible, but I want him to live just a little while longer so I can say that I felt something real before you take it fully away from me.” My statements seem to be really hitting him hard as I see the fall of Salvatore Abbiati occur. Usually he dismisses my comments, but apparently, not offering him barefaced lies is affecting his ability to remain fierce and stoic. However, seeing this isn’t cause for me to want to embrace him and ask for another deal. It won’t happen no matter how much I crack him. So, I decide to do the one thing I need to – go find Zane. “I have to get there,” I whisper and before anyone can stop me or alter my plan, I flee the room.

  I don’t run and I don’t hesitate with my steps. I walk with poise, trying my hardest not to break down on myself. I just need to find my car keys and leave.

  My name is called in differing voices, tones, and levels of desperation, but I listen to no one but myself.

  Zane needs me.

  ***

  I had no idea where I was going when I made it to the hospital originally. I went to reception and asked by name, and I was directed to the third floor ICU. When I got there, I demanded to see Zane, even lied and tried to tell them I was his partner. I reek of desperation as I stand before overworked nurses in a full-length gown and adorned in the finest of pearls. However magnificently dressed, my makeup is streaking my face, my eyes bloodshot and raw from crying so much. I wear my heartbreaking anguish over every inch of me. I am the epitome of a beautiful mess.

  Granted limited access, I’m only allowed to stand outside of Zane’s window, only able to look in at him from a distance. Just seeing his chest move is enough gratification to calm me. I want to run into him, but he looks so fragile, I’m terrified of hurting him, of causing him any more pain.

  Not only that, but he has no idea I’m here. He’s been out of surgery for over two hours, but he’s still critical, meaning that he could well slip into some tempting abyss of pleasurable oblivion and never come back. As I step forward, my hand coming up to touch the pane of glass, I bite my lip, willing myself to not shed anymore tears over the uncertainty of Zane’s newest fate. He is still alive. The machine beside him, the one beeping steadily with each heartbeat, tells me so.

  He has no gown on his upper half, and I can only presume that's because of the amount of bandages currently smothering his gunshot wounds. He has so many wires and tubes I have no way to work out which one leads where. They’re a mess of colors – a tangled chaos around him.

  Then it hits me - I shouldn't need this reminder of how precious life is.

  I hate myself for wanting to know how consumed I could be by Zane when all along I was already a total victim to him. I had speculated, applied notion that I did indeed wholeheartedly love him, but I never knew how hell bent crazy the thought of him dying before me would drive me.

  I never wanted to know if this was the deliverance.

  "Sorry, can I help you?"

  I look up to see an unknown petite nurse standing beside me. I sniffle and nod my head in affirmative. I look back at Zane and then back to the nurse. This time I notice how she’s looking me up and down, questioning why I’m dressed the way I am.

  "Is he going to be okay?" I ask cautiously. I don't want to hear that he's on the brink of near death and it's all hanging in
the balance. I don’t explain the fight I already had with a nurse to get this far or how I fled my own birthday because the man I loved was dying.

  The nurse gives me a small smile. "I'm sorry; I can't give out that information unless you're family."

  “Please,” I beg, my eyes watering. I’m in limbo here and I don’t know what to say or do to get answers. “I just need to know he’s going to be okay.” My hopeless anxiety is getting the better of me. “He was promising me he’d be safe only hours ago and now he’s like this. I just need to know how he is.”

  Suddenly her face lights up with recognition. "Yes," she says. "I thought I recognized you." She laughs as my face clouds with uncertainty to her claim. "Your name is Amelia, isn't it?" she asks me so causually, and I just nod my head. "He was brought in clutching a photo of you and managed to say your name a few times." She heads into Zane’s room, and I watch her in a dazed stance as she goes to the bag of his belongings and pulls something out. Coming back, she presents me with this crumpled, bloodied image. “You must be something special to him.”

  “He loves me,” I tell her with a watery smile, my tears falling free as I look at the photo.

  I remember this moment – Zane had set up a picnic for us in front of the Hudson River. He had prepared all of my favorite foods, got my favorite wine, and in return, he got his favorite picture of me. I have sunglasses on my head, smiling brightly. I feel jealous of myself. The sting of my own happiness hurts, and I wonder if we can ever get back to that point. The magnitude of this has me faltering. The nurse steps in with a gentle ease, pulling me back toward the row of seats just behind us. She sits with me as I sit in shock.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I shake myself out of this moment. “You don’t need to sit with me. I’m not a priority here.”

  “Seems you need just someone to support you right now,” she gently comments back, and I hear the sincerity ooze from her. “You do realize he will be okay, don’t you?”

  “Do I?” I ask her disbelievingly. “Because, right now, I have no idea how he is, apart from the fact he nearly died.”

  “I’m not obligated to tell you anything, but please, listen to me. He is strong and fought his way through the surgery. If he has something to live for, which I believe he does, then I think he’ll be back to himself in no time.” Her hand takes mine, closing around it as I grip onto the photo. “Stay here as long as you wish. I’ll be back to check on him in a little bit.”

  I nod, and she leaves.

  In my solidarity, I gaze at the photo. I will fight to feel that overwhelming amount of happiness again. That sense of happiness that feels like I’m going to burst if I feel any more, but at the same time, I’m willing more of it to hit me because I know it’s the best feeling in the entire world.

  I stand again, more forcing myself than anything, and go back to my place by the window. When I sense someone beside me I half expect the nurse from before, but I’m shocked to see Enzo approaching me.

  “I thought you might need a change of clothes,” Enzo comments as he steps beside me, a bag in hand. He drops it the moment he sees my lip begin to tremble and wraps his arms around me just as my walls crash and burn and all my vulnerabilities run riot for all to see. “Hey, he’s okay.”

  Again, I’m given that litany – he’s okay. I want to scream that he’s not because being laid up half dead in a hospital bed is not my definition of being okay. My very own indestructible Detective Maverick was put on a pedestal too high for him to maintain. I allowed myself to believe he would never be hurt – mentally or physically – but I was wrong. Zane is only human – like myself, like Enzo, like my father. Whatever perception I have of anyone in my life, we are all only humans. Each can be taken from me in a swift heartbeat.

  Zane is verification of that.

  “Sorry,” I sniffle as I pull away from my brother. “I didn’t mean to just leave the house.”

  “Maybe not, but I understood it completely.” He reaches out, wiping the pad of his left thumb across my cheek to smear away the tears. “I’m worried about you, Amelia. How is this ever going to end happily?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply miserably. “I haven’t thought it through to the end game, just the run up.” I take a deep breath. “How do I ever get him out of this?”

  Enzo shrugs and looks into the room before sighing heavily. “We could look into faking his death while you work your plan that Papà knows about. You know how Carlo works; he could have an entirely new life for Zane in a matter of months.” He reaches up again, placing his knuckles to my chin to force me to look at him. “A new identity for you both to go and live.”

  “But then I lose you,” I respond with the cold, solemn truth.

  “We didn’t lose Bruno when he did it,” Enzo counters strongly, dropping his hand and giving me a grin. “And he’s living a pretty charmed life, if you ask me.” He shrugs once more and just keeps offering me the same little smirk. “Just think of the opportunities at your disposal. Just because Papà and Gio have no clue what Carlo is capable of, doesn’t mean we do.”

  “It’s not so easy to cut a loss and run,” I argue, defying him on this matter. I can’t just drop my family and restart.

  “Well, we’ll deal with that all on another date.” Looking into the room, I can tell Enzo wants to say something, but his expression becomes oppressed by shock. “Someone’s awake,” Enzo points out and looks back to me.

  I say nothing, leaving my brother’s side to break hospital protocol by going to Zane’s side. I rush straight in, tears fucking betraying me in this moment of elation, and take his hand in mine. I feel him look at me, gripping my hand back as he does so.

  “It’s so good to see you awake,” I whisper, wiping my face clear of tears.

  “I thought you wanted me dead?” he murmurs sarcastically. He licks at his dry lips, his eyes closing drowsily as he strives to move a little without erupting too much pain in his tender abdomen. When I see him failing, I place my hand on him to still his movements, and he quickly obeys, opening his eyes to look at me.

  “The thought of you dead kills me,” I whisper and wrapped in my litany is my rawest truth. My end goal may have always been to kill him, regardless, but now that I had the thought of him dead, I know it’s all about playing the devil against himself.

  “Hail Mary,” he whispers softly, gripping my hand tighter my hand. “I’ve found my miracle.”

  I laugh, my eyes watering. “You’re high.”

  “And you’re beautiful,” he remarks back, and everything feels right between us. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” I speak softly, leaning in to kiss him. “Now, get some rest.”

  His grasp dramatically changes, clenching onto me desperately. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes widen, looking at me with utter hopelessness that my heart weakens at the sight of it marring his beautiful face. “Please.”

  “Shh,” I coo, trying to calm him. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

  “It was only you I wanted here,” he remarks dryly. “And you’re here.”

  “Of course, I am,” I tell him, offering a watery smile. “No one could keep me away from you, Zane. Not now.”

  “Good,” he notes and closes his eyes momentarily before opening them and truly fixing me with a heavy gaze. “You are absolute mess, Amelia.” He suddenly changes the subject. I guess it’s because his eyes have focused upon my wrecked complexion.

  “Well, you said you had a gift for me, but this wasn’t what I wanted,” I tease him lightly, trying to smile through my tears.

  “Don’t cry, Sweetheart,” he tells me, reaching up weakly to wipe my tears away from my face. When his knuckles come into the contact with my cheek, I close my eyes and lavish the feel of his skin on mine as my hand comes up to keep his knuckles pressed against my cheek. “E' tutto OK,” Zane whispers to me, his exhaustion claiming him, but his words force me to forget my impending misery and sit in shock. Everyone has told
me it will all be okay, that he’ll be okay, but hearing Zane say it means a world of difference. He just smiles cheekily at me as he sees my shock.

  “You’ve been holding out on me, Maverick,” I murmur at him playfully and he laughs delicately trying not to give the pain more chance to riddle him. “When did you start learning Italian?”

  “Since I lost you,” he retorts and smiles sleepily. “But I mean it. It’s all okay.”

  “E' tutto OK,” I repeat softly to him, only to let him know I understand. I give him back my photo and he accepts it with ease, clutching onto it fiercely against his chest. My heart thrusts up into my throat, my own heartbeat throbbing throughout my entire body. He says nothing else, just begins to drift off into whatever painless oblivion steals him away first. “Now sleep, please.”I lean in and kiss his cheek. By the time I sit back, his eyes are closed and his breathing is deepening. Satisfied, I just hover by his side, unable to let his hand go and allow him out of my sight.

  “Amelia,” Enzo gently calls out to me. When I look up, he motions with his head for me to step outside of the room. “You need to get changed out of that dress and clean yourself up.” I hesitate enough to look at Zane. “I’ll watch him while you’re gone.”

  I agree silently. Taking the bag of clothing, I head toward the nearest restroom. I lock the door and just stand in the solitude of the room. My head is whizzing a million miles a minute over what has happened in just a few short weeks. Since Zane was offered to me, my life has been one giant whirlwind. I shake my head, trying to clear the cloud of thoughts, and carry the bag over to the sink. I set it down, balancing it well, and when I open it, I immediately see makeup removal wipes. I smile at the fact that Enzo really thinks of everything. I search for clothes first, wanting to be out of this dress more than anything and then set to making myself look less like a mess.