“She killed those men,” I point out, still feeling sickened by the hellish twist in the truth. Ignoring all he said, I just go back to that fateful night. “After she vowed she was done with your father’s bidding.”
“And she was until the moment they tried to take you from her,” Enzo fights, his voice showing how desperate he is for me to understand. “Fuck, Zane, her entire life had been governed by what we are. You were the first real thing outside her family she had. You gave her hope. When what we are threatened to take it, she had to strike.”
“So you condone what she did?”
“No,” Enzo argues. “But I understand it.”
A tense moment of silence hangs in the air as he watches me. I’m too stunned to even speak. A man as righteous and caring as Enzo Abbiati understands Amelia killing not one man, but three has me rocked to my core. I couldn’t see past the deceit, yet he’s rationalized and understood it all.
“Think you need to go and clean yourself up.” Enzo suddenly changes the subject, rubbing at his jaw as he stands up. “You stink. It’s time you pulled yourself together.”
“It’s fun.” I reiterate my earlier sentiment to my new way of living. I follow him, standing up. “I don’t have any responsibilities this way. What would Amelia say if she could see what our love did to me?”
“Fuck this,” Enzo swears, and I sense him move.
Before I have even a chance to look at him, his fist collides with my cheek, forcing my head to swing around, my teeth colliding brutally and my body flying backward. I land flat on my ass, the entire left side of my face burning red hot.
“Go take a fucking shower, Maverick,” Enzo says, shaking his hand, working out the pain that punch must have burnt his knuckles with. “I might be disappointed in you for what you’ve done, but I’m not prepared to watch you drink yourself to a grave after you broke your own heart because you were a fucking idiot.”
I watch as he walks toward the shitty bathroom. He walks with aggression – his shoulders squared and hunched, and his footsteps heavy on the filthy carpet. The loud resounding creak of the faucet sounds before the burst of water comes through the house, then Enzo’s coming back in the main room where I’m now sitting leaning against the bed.
“Fucking male pride will kill all of us one day, you do know that?” he asks me, and I nod, not sure if he’s muttering rhetorically. “What pisses me off was that you got your second chance, Zane! Do you know how many people would kill for that?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, pushing myself up off the floor. “I fucked up. It’s all good, Enzo, I’m well aware.”
“Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Enzo states as he comes to stand before me. “I don’t think you do. Now, I’m going to go and get you some decent food. Do me a favor and use that shower to sober up.”
“Why are you here?” I say, slight frustration in my voice.
“I told you why,” he says, heading toward the door. He puts a hand onto the handle only to pause. Turning back, he looks at me for a second. “Use this time to start deciding what you want in life, Zane. If you want Amelia, then you decide the best way. If you don’t, don’t spend your time rotting away in motel rooms off the highway. Do something positive with the life she granted you.”
“I think I ran out of chances. There’s no hope for me.”
“That’s a whole load of fucking bullshit, and you know it,” he retorts, scathing of my attitude. “She granted you the chance to run. You haven’t run very far ... you should be getting away from all of us.”
“Then why are you continually checking on me?”
“Because she asked me to keep you safe,” he replies, his tone sincere. “You might have broken her heart, but her love for you is far too deep to let you get yourself killed.”
“What are you, my fucking guardian angel?”
“No. Right now, I’m the only man that gives a fuck about you,” Enzo replies. “Go shower, Zane. I’ll be back in half hour. Maybe then you might have some grand plan ... go further South, settle down, go back to the police force, I don’t know ... something better than this.”
I watch him take his leave, jumping into his Ferrari without even a second glance at my wary figure in the door. I have more than a little sobering up to do, and I have to do it quickly. As he drives off, leaving dust to fly in the air, I wonder if Enzo neglected to think about one thing that would help me here. The one thing that’s occupied my sleepless mind at night.
What if I became one of them?
For the girl I love, I’d do anything – including getting blood on my hands.
I already started to do just that when I took her heart and shattered it, why not continue?
***
My eyes drifted away from the redhead as movement caught my attention. I allowed my vision to settle and focus before I truly acknowledged her before me.
Amelia Abbiati - the one who stole my heart.
The one I let get away.
The one I threw aside.
God was playing some horrific trick on me by delivering her to me tonight of all nights.
It had been a long time since I had laid eyes on her, but time didn't matter at this moment because she was just as beautifully captivating as the day I broke her heart.
I move, ignorant of the sleazy redhead, and start to make my way across the bar. Every step feels leaded, weighted as nerves begin to capture me, and rightly so.
I deserve to feel like this because I made our last meeting haunting. I made sure she never healed from it. I made sure I felt the daggers in my heart for years.
I made myself yearn for this moment, so I deserve to feel uneasy.
"Well, well, well, Amelia Abbiati as I live and breathe."
At first, she doesn't reply. No. Instead, her breathing falters, and it pleases me to know I’m not the only one reacting to this moment. She doesn't need to with the look she offers. The year gap between our last meeting and now melts away, and I feel my chest struggle to inhale a new breath.
“Still a breath-taking sight.”
Round two now begins.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMELIA
“Do you know how much of a disgrace you are, Amelia?”
Yes, I mentally reply, my hand moving closer to the knife by my plate.
“Do you realize how fucking lucky you are to be sitting at my table in the homeland like you still belong?”
Yes, I mentally say again, this time, my fingers inching toward the handle.
“Salvatore has a death wish sending you here as if I can change you. You’re just like your mother, willing to do whatever you want to do without even looking at the family you’re a part of.” I feel eyes glower at me, and I finally turn to look at him. “You’re living one very charmed life, Amelia.” Now, his eyes intensify on me. “This isn’t the land of lost hope.”
“My father seems to think so,” I utter under my breath.
“Your father did always happen to be a bit of a dreamer. Shame, really, I’ve had you here for over two months, and I’ve seen no change in you. In actual fact, you’ve digressed. If that was even fucking possible. You’ve not killed a man, nor have you struck a man once. You’ve walked around with a sour face, treated my greatest accomplishment like a sex toy, and treated this place like a holiday destination. Do you know what that shows most, Amelia?”
“What?” I grind out, finally putting my fingers on the handle.
“You’re a spoiled brat,” he says, leering at me. “And do you know what I like to do to spoiled little brats?” he asks, not waiting for my reply. “I like to watch them bend until they break.”
“You’ll have to try harder.”
“Oh, I will because, if I’m honest, Amelia, I’m very much enjoying your stay here.” He gives me a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, yet he looks at me with careful consideration. “I know I can try every tactic under this glorious Italian sun, but ultimately, my best move would be to involve Zane Maverick.”
My eyes widen involuntarily at the threat.
“See,” Alberto states. “Even after two months of heartbreak hell, you’re still quick to react, still prepared to defend the man who broke you to your knees. That boy left a mark so deeply embedded you stand no hope of being more than this weak, lovesick morsel he created!” He continues to drill into me, burrowing his rants further into my brain. “I wouldn’t mind taking you back to America just so I could show you how you kill a man like him. I’d force you to watch what you’ve lost and make you realize what you’re becoming. You can’t be trusted to play the game anymore, so maybe someone with a little more balls should do it for you. Show you how to kill a cop and make it messy ... I don’t see you ever being able to do it.”
“Stop!” I bellow, standing up, forgetting about the knife to slam my hands onto the table. “I can still kill the man when I get home!” I threaten; my hands, while on the table, now grip the edges.
“If you go home,” Alberto leers, grinning vindictively at me. “Who says they’ll ever want you home now, Amelia?” he asks me, his eyes glistening as he enjoys this. “No one’s come here for you. Not one of them has called to see where you are, and I don’t believe for a moment they’re at home waging war to get you back.” He laughs at me then, chortling menacingly. “They’re all so much better off without you.”
“That’s a lie,” I reply, trying to keep some gusto in my voice.
I know the bond I share with each of my brothers, even down to the sadistic, twisted one I have with Gio. Sure, I don’t imagine him wanting me home, but the other four would fight for me. Alberto doesn’t realize that. We’re a family within a family. It’s what makes us so strong. We know where our real loyalties lie and where our game of charades begins and ends.
It’s why they supported my second chance with Zane. It’s why they enabled me the freedom. It’s why I’m here.
“Don’t ever assume you know anything about us,” I growl, and I feel myself harden toward my uncle. “You know very little about the running of the Dio Lavoro outside of Italy. Don’t even begin to fool yourself into thinking you know anything about what my father does back in America. You’d be horrified.”
“Such a disbelieving little bitch,” Alberto replies; his voice so calm and smooth compared to mine. “I know my brother let you slip through his grasp, letting you have Maverick as a kill.” He pauses only seconds after starting his newest tirade. He looks at me with such scrutiny. “Sit your ass back on the chair, bambina. You aren’t scaring anyone here.”
I see the amusement ignite in his eyes as I slowly lower myself into my seat, feeling like a deflated balloon that never served a real purpose. My anger doesn’t disperse as easily, and as I sit back down, I feel it beginning to nest in the pit of my stomach.
“I told him from day one that adding that bastardo to your kill list was a bad move, but no, good ole Salvatore Abbiati wanted to trust you with the ultimate deed. See, he thought what that bastard did to your heart was so scarring, you wouldn’t think twice. I knew otherwise.”
“You wouldn’t know what it is to love someone,” I mutter, picking up my fork to pick at my lunch. “You see, neither of you would. You never married, and my father killed my mother ... hardly Lotharios’ are you?”
“Tori got what was coming to her,” Alberto quips back, and he smiles as my face turns into a thunderous expression. “See, the majority of her spawn turned out like her. You had the chance to be great, but now, we’re here.”
“You have no right to talk about my mother,” I snarl, baring my teeth as if I’ve morphed into some feral animal. “She was the reason we stood a chance at being better than you are. She’s the reason I trust my heart above any teaching you or my father can offer.”
“Trust your heart to set you up for a greater fall,” he comments, musing aloud. “She allowed you to love enough, Amelia, that you fell hook, line, and sinker for a man like Zane Maverick. The irony of your mama’s teachings.” Again, he sets his gaze upon me with such malice; I bite my tongue and allow him his next verbal assault. “But the joke doesn’t even stop there. The greatest irony is his name really,” my uncle sneers disgusted, patting his mouth with a napkin as he finishes eating. He starts to laugh, setting the napkin down on his lap. “Maverick,” he comments, chuckling. “As if he could ever be a rebel of any sort in this lifetime. He isn’t like the men who serve your father back in America. No, Maverick, he’s a conformist.”
My hand retreats back toward the knife, my fingertips itching to touch the handle
“He’s what we all know and hate as the good cop.” Leaning toward me, Alberto executes a sideways smirk. “I’d stop right there, Princess. I’ve seen the killer look ignite in your eyes throughout lunch. Did you really think you could outsmart me?” He leans even closer, his eyes darkening as they narrow upon me. For a second, his gaze drops to my hand wrapped around the knife before looking back at me. “I would do just about anything to scar you, Amelia. That’s how we used to deal with delinquent members ... blood or not.”
“Then why don’t you?” I ask, my lip curling in disgust at him. “Why don’t just get it over with?”
“Because fortunately for you, your father has entrusted that I don’t do you any harm but that of the good kind. You’re here to learn and get back to the old ways. I’m not in the habit of exacting physical pain.”
“How big of you,” I remark sarcastically. “Did he make any stipulation that I was meant to keep my hands off you?”
Alberto sits back, a massive shit-eating grin on his lips. “Seems my influence is already working.”
His words sober me up within seconds, and I realize how dire this has become. For months, I have remained true to the woman I became while tightly wrapped in the love Zane offered, but finally, I’m unraveling.
It’s taken two months, but it’s happening – I’m reverting back to the Amelia Abbiati I was meant to always become in my father’s eyes.
The emotionless, heartless killer.
CHAPTER FIVE
ZANE
It was while I stood under the shower that I realized just what a pathetic bastard I have become.
Sure, I had lost my girl and had run from my job, but I had chances, and I had opportunities. More than most would be left with. Enzo was sure to hate what path I had decided to walk, but he wouldn't need to know until I was directly in front of him. Of course, I wasn't expecting my decision to be an easy feat - it was far from that.
I was about to intrude on Manhattan's largest crime family to offer myself and infiltrate their entire life.
Or try my damn hardest.
I had no idea what this would mean for me or for my relationship with Amelia, but I would die a begging man to find out. I was near the cusp of totally breaking that I would do anything to build back toward her.
I had drowned my sorrows for the better part of two months, thinking about every way I could start asking to join the Dio Lavoro. But the idea was soon lost as I reached the bottom of a bottle. It was ludicrous, and I was never of full feeling for long enough or of sane mind to form a plan to exact what it was I wanted.
Until Enzo smacked me down.
It pummeled sense into my irrational mind and made me stop reaching for my next hit. It’s time to stop, back away, and run – full speed – into another killer one.
The pain I’ve forced upon myself is now one I’ll use to get me where I need to be. I want to be in that house, waiting for her to come home so I can have one moment to get on my knees and beg forgiveness. I know Amelia will never take me back that easily, but I need a starting place and being part of her family will offer me that. She won’t be able to ignore me if I’m constantly in the same house as she is, eating the same meals and being around every single corner she walks.
I want to be able to take every opportunity to be there, to always be on her mind and not just because I broke her heart, but because I’m trying my damned hardest to get back by her side. I’m a
callous man who ran away from who she is by birth. Now, I’m prepared to run directly at her and not walk away until it’s with her, able to give her the perfect life away from any mafia-related games.
Turning the water off, I stand staring at the discolored tiling before me. I barely blink, slowing my breathing, and revel in my every thought. I allow them to crash upon me in intense washes, swallowing me in their surf. So many memories of Amelia consume me that I struggle on what little breathing I am doing. I put a hand out, closing my eyes, and torture myself with the image of her crying as she realizes I’m walking away from her for the second time.
I accept that torture on a daily basis – one I’ll continue to endure until she presents to me my liberation and repentance.
Dragging my weary body out of the shower, I grab the towel and quickly wrap it around my waist. As I open the door, the steam whooshes past me, freeing itself of the cloistered room. Cool air hits me, prickling my skin as I make a beeline for the disposal cell I’ve been using.
It’s time.
I cross the room, the rough carpet beneath my feet reminding me of the squalor I’ve taken to living in. I look at the small black cell and remind myself of everything I’m fighting for. I’ve lost Amelia already; this would be my final chance to have her in my life. I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m done running scared. I want her to have a man who will fight—who will be a man and go after what he wants. I won’t be a man deterred any longer.
Sitting on the bed for a moment, I feel the weight of the phone in my palm, mulling over what it is I’m about to do. The idea settles in my mind, but my only route to an underworld is one he won’t agree with it.
Shaking my head and deciding it’s time to bite the bullet and get it done, I unlock the screen and find his number. My thumb hovers over hitting it. I imagine what will happen if I don’t, and I see myself spending the rest of my life in this hellhole, empty from a void I can’t survive. Slamming my thumb down on the number, I throw caution to the wind. As it starts to connect, the dialing tone ringing out, I bring it to my ear and start to bait my breaths.
Maverick: Pericolo #1.5 Page 3
