Maverick: Pericolo #1.5

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the handle and lift it. In all my years as a police officer, this gun has never felt this heavy. I feel every ounce of metal used to mold this weapon into a deadly machine.

  As I back up toward the bad, I pull the hammer and ready the gun for ignition. I fall onto the bed’s edge and wrap my hand around the gun tighter, my finger steadying itself on the trigger. I sit there, facing the door, knowing I’ll be the first thing someone finds when they hear the gunshot. I gaze down at my lap and watch as the gun tests the hold of my fingers. Its heaviness seems so different to what it did when I first picked it up when I first became a cop. As if every second that passes added an extra pound; as if each bullet is weighted with lead.

  It’s as if it’s letting me know of my own decision. Reminding me that this is the last time I’ll hold this weapon. It’s as the decision sets and reality washes in that I realize this is the best decision I’ve made in a long time. Picking the gun up and putting it to my temple, I feel my lips finally form a small contented smile.

  Nothing to stop me now.

  No love, no rhyme, no reason.

  ***

  “The name’s Amelia,” she tells me, laughing at me. “Jerk.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, cupping my throbbing cock after her knee just landed on me hard enough I fear infertility in my future. “Didn’t mean to get on the wrong side of you!”

  “Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to touch what wasn’t yours?” she asks, her lips twitching into a playful grin. “It’s rude.”

  Still on my knees, I look up at her. Her bright green eyes stare at me, a bemused smile twisted on her lips. She is the most stunning woman I have ever come across, and she’s certainly left more of her mark on me.

  I stand, keeping my space from her – for now.

  “The name’s Zane,” I say, putting my hand out for her to take. “The detective you just accosted.”

  Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t look scared of my attempt to execute some power over her.

  “I always had a thing for men in uniform,” she states, taking my hand to shake. “My daddy wouldn’t like it.” She pouts, but I see a wicked glint in her eyes. “But I don’t listen to him much.” She gives me a wink. “Now, are you a good cop or a bad?”

  “You tell me,” I utter, pulling her close to me. No fear of a second knee to the cock, I pull her into my arms, not caring who’s listening, and kiss her.

  Immediately and with no heaviness, she melts into the kiss, and I swear the world slows down. Everything disappears, fizzling down to total nothingness. My hands run up into her hair, my fingers threading through it to allow me to deepen the kiss. I tease her lips with my tongue, helping the kiss along, but when she moans against me, I have to relinquish my hold and slowly and reluctantly pull away from her.

  “That’s one to remember me by,” I tell her, giving her a cheeky wink. I watch her part her bruised lips as she watches me. “Next time, you can do the approaching, sweetheart.”

  I’m going to spend the rest of my life with that woman.

  I might not know much, but I know that for sure.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AMELIA

  “Like this!” Alberto bellows, wrapping his hand around my wrist to force my hand to complete the task. “You cut deep, and you keep cutting, bambina!”

  “No!” I say, striving to resist him as warm blood begins to smother my skin. “Alberto! No!”

  “You’ll do this, Amelia, to see how we handle business!” he says, continuing to cut the man. “Men who act like this bastardo don’t deserve to be men at all! That’s why we castrate them all!”

  The man screams as his pain continues and each howl embeds itself into my mind, lashing out in harsh remembrance already. He cries out in Italian profanity; his words hindered some by his pain, and I close my eyes, whimpering about this assault that my uncle is forcing me to partake in.

  And then it stops.

  Alberto lets me go, and my entire body sags. I’m on my knees, the knife still in my hand now set at my side while the man before me bleeds out after I was forced to castrate him. I cry on my spot; silent sobs wrack my body, and I hate what I’ve been forced to become.

  “Leave him to bleed out,” Alberto orders as he walks away. “Amelia, get up.”

  I do as he says, leaving the wounded man as I slowly rise to my feet, dropping the bloody knife as I do so. Every man here stares at me, sees how weak I am as my façade crashes to the ground, and for once, I don’t care about their opinion of me. Not even as Alberto spins me around and captures my face in his hands.

  “This is your life, principessa,” he tells me, his hands closing down on my jaw. “You’ll learn to accept it, or you’ll die denying it. Do you understand that? Your fate is yours to take ... join your family or abandon them.”

  “This isn’t a life,” I ground out, looking at him with a deathly gaze. “This isn’t a family. This is hell.”

  Alberto begins to grin wickedly at me. “Then we’re doing it right.” He throws my face as he releases me. “Get out of my sight, Amelia. I told you once, but you’ve proven it again that you are an absolute disgrace.”

  I start to hear men mock me, but I drown them out as I flee the common room of the house and run toward the stairs. I need my room, and the sanctum it offers. I head straight out to the balcony, vying for an escape, but all I managed to do is collapse in a heap on myself. I’ve finally found my breaking point. I survived with splinters my heart, my sanity shattered, my courage in disarray, but now, I’m completely defeated. I’m not made for this life – I’m not made for the blood and gore of being a part of the Dio Lavoro. Not unless I have a reason to fight or strike back.

  This isn’t a case of Zane breaking my heart because love has told this to me in a multitude of ways. My love of my family began to splinter me; my father used it to his advantage, and then the love of a man finished me.

  “Bella?” I hear Lorenzo call the nickname he’s taken for me. “Amelia.”

  “Leave,” I bark, unable to face him in my current state.

  “I can’t,” he admonishes, settling down beside me on the tiled flooring. “You’re crying.”

  I snort at his observation. I don’t mean it maliciously, but I’m a wreck, and any fool can see that.

  “You speak to me,” he says, his broken English hindering him again. “I’m here.”

  I drop my head as desolation befriends all of my inner demons. I can’t bear to face even myself right now, so I stare at the blood staining my hands, drying on my skin.

  “Please, Bella,” he presses.

  “I feel like I’m drowning,” I start to say, unable to look up from my hands. “Like all the time. It’s like the longer I’m here, the more I struggle to reach the surface to just get some air. I feel like I’m constantly struggling to tread water.” Now, I look at him, my eyes wide, and my tears wild. “I don’t know how I’m meant to survive this.”

  “You’re strong,” he starts, reaching for my hand. “Even after what Zane has done.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging nonchalantly. “I don’t know when I’ll get over this ... if I ever will. A part of me still holds hope that he’ll just be waiting for me when I get home. The part of me that loves him most tells me he won’t because he’s better off without someone like me. I’m so screwed up and the things I’ve done and been made to do tell me I’m not worthy of love.”

  “I love you,” he states, and when I look up, his doleful eyes watch me so intently. “You know this, Amelia. I told you when you came home. I love you.”

  “I know,” I whisper, but I’m unable to repay him the sentiment.

  “I wait,” he says, placing his hand on my chin, lifting my chin up. “You know that, Bella? I wait.”

  I swallow hard around the lump forming in my throat, tears still fleeing down my cheeks, but I look into his eyes, allowing myself to become consumed by them.

  “I don’t know much in th
is life, but I learned a few things while being here,” he begins, keeping his tone soft. “I know that love doesn’t come easy, but when it does, you do anything to keep your hands tightly on it. I do that for you, Bella, without even a new thought.”

  “Lorenzo,” I try to stop him, but he shakes his head, stopping me.

  “I don’t care when you’ll be ready, but I’ll be here,” he states, shushing me.

  I’ll never be ready, my mind resonates, and I know it’s true. It doesn’t matter if Lorenzo is the kindest, most understanding gentleman. I’ll never heal enough for him. A crazy part of me tells me to try, to make those first gallant steps toward a newer, brighter future.

  So I react to his plea, finally.

  I reach up, framing his face with my hands and pull him close. I deserve the chance to live freely of my heart’s desires even for a while – however short that may be. There’s a moment where I bite my lip, wondering what I’m doing, but I forget about my tears, about my earlier sins, and begin to lean in. I kiss him; at first, it’s hesitant and slow, but the gentle ease forces me to keep this going for sanity’s sake.

  All the while telling myself it’s Lorenzo kissing me, not Zane. For the first time in months, I believe it is really him kissing me. I allow myself a moment of realism to let my head lead and not my heart, and I find I enjoy it.

  Until we pull away and everything comes rushing back in.

  How am I ever meant to get over this?

  How am I ever going to heal this time when my heart won’t let go?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ZANE

  “Zane!”

  My eyes shoot up, but the gun remains in place.

  “It’s not worth it,” Enzo says from the doorway of the hotel room. He comes closer, his hands up as if to show he isn’t a threat. “Please, this isn’t your only choice now.”

  “Isn’t it?” I ask in a quivering voice. “How can you be so sure?” I close my eyes, pushing the gun closer to my temple. “He was right, you know?” I ask, opening my eyes to look at Enzo. “Everything I touch turns to dust.”

  “It’s not true,” Enzo tries.

  He takes a few more steps in, closing the door behind him. He shuts off the outside world again and comes toward me. I can’t deal with him trying to stop this, and my shaking body tells me this.

  “Don’t!” I spit, grinding my teeth together. “I’m a weak man, so this is right.”

  “It’s not,” Enzo fights, ignoring me as he comes closer.

  “Don’t come closer!”

  “Fine!” he tells me, his hands rising higher up. “Can I sit?” he asks and points at the bed opposite me. He gives me a weak smile when I nod and sits directly across from me. “Can you put the gun down and we talk?”

  I sit, pondering on the matter. I could easily do as I say, allow him to console my bruised ego and attempt to fix my broken mentality, but what good will it do? I’ll still be in the same predicament. So I don’t listen or obey; I keep the gun to my temple and watch him struggle with what to do next.

  “C’mon, Zane, this isn’t like you,” he argues lightly. “You’re not a man to do this.”

  “Maybe once before I wasn’t,” I mutter, but it’s with that comment I unravel. My demeanor falls, my shoulders slump, and with it, my hand drops, taking the gun from my head. Enzo looks immediately less tense. “Why did I even think it was possible? Why did I think I could ever win her back this way? She’s never going to look twice at me after all I’ve done.”

  “You don’t know that,” Enzo speaks, offering optimism. “Amelia is a lot of things, but my father seems to ignore the fact that she was always, always foolish in love, and she has loved no one like she loves you.”

  I drop my head to look at my lap. But when my gaze meets the glistening metal of my gun, my heart begins to slow, and it dawns on me that I was willing to end it all. I heave on a few intakes of air, sobering up, and I start to shake my head. I chose the worst way to go, chose a way I never really believed in.

  Suicide.

  It’s the worst fate because it’s the loneliest, but I’m not that – Enzo has proven that again. By coming here, he proves that I’m not alone in this world.

  “If she could see me now ...” I trail off, starting to lift my head. “If either of them could see me now... my mother would disown me and Amelia would wonder why she ever fell for a man like me.”

  I force myself to sit a little straighter, and while I still feel the immense tension, I’m grateful for Enzo for stepping in. However, I don’t let the gun go or attempt to move it. I know I won’t use it, but the weight of it reminds me of the moment transcending.

  “How did you know?” I ask, my voice becoming incredibly hoarse. The shame I’m feeling is incredibly damning. “How did you know to follow me?”

  Enzo offers a weak smile, but it speaks volumes.

  “I was once with the girl of my dreams, too, you know? And I was also idiotic enough to throw her aside and pretend that the love I had for her wasn’t life-changing. What she gave me was out of this world, but like Amelia, I had to choose. I always chose them over Alessandra. I also felt like I had nothing to show for my life but a trail of failures.” He laughs emptily, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I chose my family over her because I thought it was better for everyone. She played second to them, and I’ve never been able to forgive myself for it.” He slowly pulls his hand away, dropping it into his lap so his hands can wring against one another. “And I remember being in your position, Zane. The gun loaded and in my hand. I remember looking in the mirror, and I had that exact same expression when I decided to end it all. It’s the one thing I remember when I grabbed my gun from the dresser in my room, that finality in my mind. I know what it is to feel like that void in you when it’s all too consuming. I know what it feels like to be at that point in your life when you believe you have nothing left to live for. I remember feeling like the world was crushing you down.”

  “So what changed?”

  “I heard Amelia’s voice calling for me,” he admits, shrugging a little. “It was like a reminder that I was still needed.”

  I scoff. “What am I really needed for?”

  “To fight for her,” Enzo points out, and I shake my head. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. “No, no. Just hear me out on this. Sal did what he does best ... he plays against a man’s weakness to bring them to his knees. He plays mind games to get into your head, and you allowed him.” Enzo leans forward on his perch, his arms lining his thighs as his hands come to grasp another. “He had you reduced to the smallest you could be, Zane. Don’t you see that? My father is cool and calculating, and in order to win above his opponent, he has to know every single last sordid secret there is.” I watch his brow pull together as frustration starts to garner powerfully in his voice. “That’s why he mentioned your mother, why he went and saw her, and why he used her against you. It’s all a part of his tactic. He saw you were desperate—fuck, we all saw it—but to men like my brother and father, that’s ammunition for them.”

  It’s now I feel at my most foolish – I played right into the devil’s hand.

  “Don’t you see?” Enzo asks, issuing a strong questioning look. “They break men in order to overpower them and do what they did to you earlier. It’s all a game, so you have to play in order to beat them rather than play to match them.”

  “And how do I do that?” I ask him, shooting him a quizzical look. “I’ve made myself look like an absolute fool. No one in that house will take me seriously.”

  “I do ... as do Carlo and Manuel, and of course, Billy does, too.” Enzo’s comment is matched with a deadpan expression, nothing being given away. “You’re the man I always wanted to be, Zane. Even if, right now, you’re carrying more baggage than ever, you had the courage to attempt to get the girl back. Once Alessandra left, I never looked for her, never tried to get her back, never even tried to make her realize how undying my love for her is. I just let her go.” I can s
ee his eyes glistening as if the pain from his past is far too much to bear. “You’re a bigger man for coming back.”

  “I came back to end up like this,” I say, looking back at the loaded gun in my lap. “I don’t know why I thought it was a clever idea.”

  “Because sometimes stopping the pain is a better idea than learning to live with it,” Enzo quips wisely. “You’ve been living with it a while.” I watch him taking a deep breath. “Dealing with death is never easy. I understand how it feels to lose a mother, but I still had my brothers and sister. You were left with no one. I can’t understand how not having that link to who you are feels. Grief isn’t a fleeting emotion; it’s one you’ll feel for decades. All what will happen is it‘ll get weaker. You’ll live with it.”

  “I can’t blame all of this on grief,” I point out. “I’m a weak man for not loving Amelia enough.”

  “I think you loved her too much,” Enzo observes, musing as he sits up. “That girl is hard to deal with in the best of times, but you managed to make her concern herself with something worthwhile. But my little sister is so confused by her loyalties that it even scares me. She wants to do what’s right, but her heart steps in. She loves you, I know she does, but she also loves our father for the wrong reasons. He has his claws in her so firmly; she just needs the right guidance to see how wrong his love is.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “She’s scared.”

  I find myself unable to deal with the thought of Amelia struggling to find who she loves more – still wracked with difficulty at seeing her take a side. I place the gun down on the bed beside me. Standing up, I make my way over to the stand with the television on it. I open the paper bag and start rummaging in it.

  “I need a drink,” I muse, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

  “Gimme that,” Enzo says, putting his hand out for the bottle. I pass it to him, and he immediately opens it and downs a massive gulp. “I’ve been after a drink all day.”