“Has much happened since I was last here?” I ask him, curiously to see what’s happened in the time since we last saw one another.
“Some of the guys from work popped in. You missed them,” Zane begins to say. “They had picked up some stuff for me and were asking about you.”
“Me?” I ask, moving my head slightly to look up at him.
“I might have spoken about you once or twice,” he muses and gives me the tiniest of smirks. “I haven’t shut up about you since I broke it off, and I only got worse after I saw you in that bar.”
“And here, I was thinking you were some strong, macho detective who had a thing for dirty talk and fighting off the bad guys to save damsels in distress?” I ask, raising one eyebrow with my questioning nature. “Instead, you’re just a hopeless romantic.”
“Hey!” he replies, his tone an octave higher.
“You give me a loaded fucking gun every damn time, Maverick,” I retort with a small giggle.
“And yet you only graze me each time. What’s up with that, Sweetheart?” he asks, shooting me a look full of sarcasm.
I slap him playfully, but stop when my phone rings out with an incoming text.
“My phone,” I comment, motioning to my bag. “I have to get it. Especially after last night.”
He sits up slightly. “I thought it was all figured out?”
“It is,” I tell him and move out of his hold. Jumping off the bed only long enough to grab my bag and find my phone. I look at it and sigh. “My father’s going away,” I comment throwing my phone back into the bag. “Apparently there’s some business he needs to attend to back in our homeland.”
“So does that mean I get some of your unadulterated time?” he asks, pondering on the fact I’ll be without the metaphorical ball and chain that is my father. “I mean, without Abbiati missions stepping in, that is.”
“I planned on playing your nurse maid,” I quip, giggling with my playful intent. “If you’ll have me.”
“I only ever wanted you with me,” he remarks, his comment an earnest, heartfelt confession.
And for once, I feel free. It’s what it’s always like with Zane around. I feel a liberation I’ve been searching so long for, and I feel at ease. I don’t feel twisted with conflict and worried by the woes of tomorrow. I feel wanted and loved and like nothing will ever matter again.
My grandfather always used to preach one thing – There is a devil within all of us, but it is our choice whether to tame it or let it tame us. I fear I’ve overstepped the mark with this, and my devil is running free just waiting for the final pieces of me. But then Zane touches me and I’m calmed by just his touch alone. I know I am able to live with my tame devil when he’s by my side. Without him, I feel I enter the freefall to hell.
“Hey,” he comments, reaching for me. “Where did you drift off to?”
“Nowhere,” I tell him and smile. “I was just thinking about how you make me feel and how unreal it feels to me.”
“This isn’t unreal,” he states, sitting up so he can shift toward me. “This, what we have, is forever. I know that because otherwise you wouldn’t have come back to me. I don’t care how it happened, but it did, and I am not letting you go ever.”
“Nothing in this life is forever,” I tell him, and my eyes begin to water. “I learned that when I was only little, Zane. I know better than to believe in stupid dreams.”
“Then stop dreaming and believe in what we have.” Zane’s retort comes across almost hard and unforgiving, but it’s full of conviction and makes me look at him. “Stop thinking about tomorrow and live in the fucking here and now – with me.”
“How do you propose that?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
He gives me a coy smirk. “Move in with me.”
It takes a lot to make me speechless; a raw, unprecedented action leaves me speechless, my father opting to sell me makes me speechless, my entire life leaves me speechless. What Zane just said leaves me breathless.
“Well?” he prods, worrying masking his face. “What do you say?” He then shrugs. “You want to look after me, oh nurse maid of mine, well I suggest you do so right from my bed with me.”
“Okay,” I reply, my response delivered with tender, sweet giddiness.
What this man does to me is something I want for life.
“Okay?” he asks me as if I’ve lied to him.
I grin wildly at him. “Okay, Mr. Maverick, I’ll move in with you.”
“Fuck, yes!” he whispers excitedly and falls down against his pillows. He then looks at me playfully. “Want to go and bat your lashes and see when I’ll get my discharge papers?”
“Are you just using me as an escape route?” I ask him, standing up only to look down at him with my hands on my hip.
“That and I want some time alone with you,” he says, grinning like a fool at the idea. “I know how to corrupt you and make you realize that a life away from the Abbiati cult is just what you want.”
I shake my head and start to leave the room, only calling over my shoulder with one last thing. “I expect domesticated bliss.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ll be having breakfast in bed almost every day,” he shouts out behind me.
I look back just in time to see him stick his tongue out to add motion to his comment, and for the first time in days, I begin to laugh hysterically. I might be filled with sufficient amounts of love and desire for him, but he makes me happy.
That is why I can’t and won’t kill him – Zane Maverick is the zest of my life.
If he’s going to die, it’ll be over my dead body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Left hook. Right hook. Uppercut. Jab. Every move I make, Enzo blocks. Am I that predicable with my attack now? I bounce on the spot, thinking of my next move, and swing in for another right hook. I wonder which focus mitt to attack next, which one will be less foreseeable.
“Stop overthinking it,” Enzo interjects, breaking my concentration. “Seriously, you’re usually kicking my ass at this workout. What gives?”
“I don’t know,” I muse with a shrug, lowering my hands and releasing my tensed position. “I guess know it’s not for fun, and I’m trying to get it as correct as possible.”
Enzo laughs, irking me slightly. “It’s not about being correct or not, Lia. It’s about protecting yourself from an attacker. You just have to be able to defend yourself.” His statement rings true, but since Big Al, I’ve become more withdrawn and less feisty. “Maybe I pushed it too early?” he asks rhetorically. “I mean, you’re still rocking bruises, and you barely come around anymore. Maybe this is just too soon.”
“No,” I state, albeit a little sternly, but I don’t want him to think we’ve rushed anything. My bruises are just paintwork now. They cause me no pain; just remind me of my last kill. “I know I’m not here all the time, but I have no idea what Papà has in store, and I want to spend as much time with Zane as possible.” I feel impish. I never feel like this, but as I look at Enzo, I blush. “I’ve never felt so happy, Enz. There are no conditions or expectations. He just loves me. I don’t want it to end.”
“It won’t,” Enzo says, stripping the focus mitts from his hands. He tosses them aside and approaches me, his warm hands frame my face, and he gives me the sincerest grin possible. “Carlo is working out the paperwork.”
“But what if Papà finds out?” I ask; my voice struck with my hidden fear. “We both know that Papà has eyes on us at all times.”
Enzo drops his hands to my shoulders, shaking me a little. “Has Carlo been caught yet?” he asks, and I shake my head. “I know you want out, and I want you out, but we need to bide our time with this. You disappearing just yet will only alert Papà to what’s going on. He will hunt you down, but once Zane has healed and everything is back on track, we’ll provoke Giovanni to do something that would force you to run. Hell, give you a fake hit that goes wrong.” He gives me that same grin, trying to calm me. “But I want th
e scent off Zane first. I want it safe for you both, so can you wait it out? Can you do that?”
I nod, gulping hard. “It’s already been a month since the shooting and Papà hasn’t come home. How long have I got to wait?”
“As long as it takes, but everything is on hold until Papà is home and we can get back into the throe of it all. Right now, he has us watched do closely, I worry about you being with Zane.” He shakes me again, this time more so than before. “Now, chin up. You’ve got to get your head back into the game, Lia.” He releases me, picking up the mitts seconds how you actually got so beaten up?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t know the truth,” I speak dangerously low, admittedly ashamed of myself. “And he won’t.”
“You can’t keep him in the dark,” my brother voices cautiously. “Manhattan PD are still investigating it. What will happen when Zane finds out they think the Femme Fatale is behind it?”
“I don’t know, but he doesn’t go back to work until he’s completely cleared, Enzo. Like everything else, I’m biding my sweet time because it’s all I know to do.” While my voice remains strong, my eyes water with conviction, and I hate myself for betraying yet more weakness. “Why did life have to get messy?”
Cocking his eyebrow at me, Enzo crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you really want me to give you an answer with that?”
“No,” I say and begin to play with the strap around my wrist. I look at my gloved hands and just know I need to work out all the pent-up secrets and angst in me. I’m a maelstrom of vicious demons that all want to kill me, one by one.
I know I told Zane he was my only kill, and he is clueless to my last three kills, but I have good reason to do so. I just have to hope and pray that when he finds out – and he will, I’m not stupid or that naive – he’ll forgive me. I have to trust in our love and not despair over it. What we have is formidable and unchanging. He knows who I am, what I am, and he still loves me. That’s all I need to anticipate a good ending.
“Right, hold the punching bag,” I comment, throwing my head in the direction of the large red bag hanging from the ceiling. When he nods, I head over, and gear myself, ready to really release a full assault upon the inanimate object.
For many years, Enzo and I have worked out together like this. He’s trained me to be physically stronger than ever, to maintain a healthy fitness regime, but until now, I thought that was enough to keep me safe. I realize had I known more self-defense when Big Al attacked me I would have kept myself safer, but I allowed myself to be hotheaded and believe I was invincible. Now, I’m going to make sure I never get caught that unaware again.
The gym is a large white room with pale pinewood flooring under the house. The side of the house was dug out to allow one whole wall of windows to flood the room with natural lighting and offer another way into the acres of space surrounding our house. It’s always been filled with the most up-to-date, hi-tech exercise equipment. Even better is the sound system. Usually it’s blasting some mad mix of music, but today, Enzo and I have had it down low, conversing about everything and nothing all at once.
Lately, I needed just a big brother, and he, yet again, is that.
But for now, I want to punch my emotions out. As he prepares the bag, I allow every cognitive thought to take control of me and begin to torture me. I ready myself, stand appropriately, and begin to punch. Each hit radiates up my arms, my receptors responding deliciously as I pick up a pace and set myself up to really accelerate my stamina. I lose all control, pounding fist after fist into the object, and as I begin to feel the sweat coming alive and running down my back in tiny beads, I know I’m working up the right sort of storm.
And as I really feel the burn in my chest from overexertion, one voice breaks it all – Bruno’s.
“Can you quit a moment so I can borrow you both?” he calls out, and I stop, completely breathless to look at him. He looks at me with a smirk. “I would ask for a hug, but you’re looking a little too sweaty for my liking.”
“Thanks,” I say breathlessly, as I fall into the nearest seat over on the far wall and grab my bottle of water from the side. “To what do we owe this appearance?”
“Enzo told me you wanted to up your self-defense, so I thought we could make it a little fun,” he comments and backs out of the room. Curiously, I watch him; he doesn’t leave the room, just reaches around the doorframe before coming back. “Right, so I thought we could show you some proper technique, but first, this.”
Bruno throws a large, long stick at me. I smirk, knowing exactly what he’s up to. Years ago, when he was a tyrant with an anger problem, Enzo taught his twin how to hone in his aggression. The pair would battle it out. They trained together in martial arts and excelled in many areas, but Bo-Staff was the one and only thing that seemed to help Bruno zone out. For hours, I could sit and watch him work his body to the limit, music up loud, and he would never, ever drop the staff.
“No rest for the wicked,” Bruno comments as I look at him perplexed as to what this has to do with me. “Enzo texted and said you were starting some self-defense so I thought I’d bring this along.” He gives me a wink. “If a fucker’s going to beat you, I want to make sure I’ve had a hand in teaching you something decent.”
“What are you trying to say?” Enzo asks, coming over to us. “I can’t train her myself?”
“Calm it,” I attempt to defuse the pair and stand. “But you and I know Bo-Staff is all about being prepared for your opponent’s move. You’ve got to be on point, prepared, and mentally ready to be one step ahead.” He then looks at me. “I never want you to be caught off guard.”
“I’ll watch, but I am not even going to start with martial arts!” I exclaim in horror, looking at the staff in his hand. “I’m more than prepared to make sure that I know how to poke a man’s eyes out or cripple him with one grasp of his cock, but I won’t start learning Bo-Staff.” I then giggle and tilt my head to the side. “Feel free to change my mind on the matter, though.”
I goad the moment, but only because I used to love watching these two work out this way. The agility, the composure, the balance and control – it’s always been mesmerizing. I hand the stick over to Enzo and head over to the sound system. I grab my iPod and find the perfect song. As AWOLNATION’s ‘Sail’ comes to life, I increase the volume and turn to face the pair.
“Impress me,” I remark and saunter back to the leather couch in the room. As I fall down, I turn the music up once again and watch as both of them turn to one another.
Almost immediately, Bruno starts to twirl the stick around as if it isn’t an almost six-foot piece of wood. His nimbleness with this skill is always awe inspiring to say the least. However, when Enzo joins in, I’m caught between the pair as they warm up.
Apparently, Enzo was using this to his biggest advantage as he takes the moment to hit a strike at Bruno’s leg, who blocks the attack and consequently swings around to hit his brother’s bicep. Again, it’s a blocked move, and continues in this dance of martial arts. The world exists to neither of them as they spin, swing, and gracefully try to win this round. I can’t help but laugh at their alpha personalities coming to life. It’s always been a tug of war contest between the pair. It’s always a matter of what one can do the other can do better. Conversely, they’re both experts at this skill and they both know the moves equally well.
Just as they become lost, the doors burst open and Manuel stumbles in. Immediately, I can see the swelling of his right eye and feel my panic grow. Enzo and Bruno have even stopped warring against one another to look at him.
“Manuel?” I call out, stopping what I’m doing. I mute the music, toss the remote aside, and rush to him. “What’s wrong?” I go over to him, and when he turns to face me, I can see the extent of the damage to his eye. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Giovanni,” he mentions and reaches up to touch his own eye. He hisses and looks at me, and I swear I can only read fear. “I’ve done something wrong.”
/>
Now Enzo and Bruno come to stand by me. I look to them, see the same mounting concern, and feel myself readying to kill Giovanni.
“What have you done?” Enzo asks, moving him to the couches and sitting him down. “What did you do that warranted the fucker to do this?”
“I didn’t know he was home already, and I was on the phone. He came in behind me,” Manual explains. He’s getting more nervous, his hands wringing together as his eyes water. He gives us a moment of eye contact before he begins to look away.
“Manuel, what in the hell is it?” Enzo ask, his voice bitten and poisoned with vicious angst.
“I’m gay,” Manuel mutters and loses his ability to look at us.
Well, to say I’m not shocked would be lie, but only because mafia families don’t do homosexuality. I saw how my father responded to the news of it once; if he finds out one of his own is inclined that way I dread to know the outcome. I couldn’t care less what Manuel is. He’s still my brother. I know my brothers will be the same – all but Giovanni, of course.
I thought I had reached my limit of hate toward Giovanni, but apparently, he just keeps pushing. Who does he think he is to condemn our own brother based on sexuality?
It's fine to bash me and cast me aside because of my emotional attachments, but to lash out because our brother isn't a heterosexual just incenses me to the extreme. From my peripheral vision, I can see my other brothers think the same thing, and I wonder where Carlo will be on this matter - with us or against us? It's not a hard choice that which I would put my money on, but the aggression Giovanni has shown to the baby of the family has me questioning everything.
“He’s not getting away with this,” Enzo says chucking the staff to one side. His anger seeps from every one of his pores, and I can see he’s trying hard not to lash out.
Femme Fatale Page 20
