Vendetta (The DeLuca Family #2)

by K. A. Ware

  Just seeing how casual he was pissed me off. It was the only reaction I allowed myself. Because if I wasn’t angry about it, I might’ve found that I liked having him in my space, sitting on my couch and channel surfing like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Here,” I said sharply, throwing the bedding as hard as I could at his face and turning on my heel to storm back into my bedroom. Before I reached the hallway he called out to me.

  “Thank you, Frankie. I mean it. Thank you for not fighting me on this.”

  I paused for a second. I didn’t have anything to say in response so I just nodded sharply and hurried to my room.

  13

  Enzo

  Present

  She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Fuck me.

  She came out in the tiniest shorts I’d ever seen and an old baseball T-shirt with some kind of comic book character on it. The shirt was so worn it was practically see through. How the hell was I going to keep my dick in my pants when she pranced around the apartment looking like a nerdy lingerie model? Jesus, and those glasses, talk about librarian fantasy.

  I turned off the TV and settled into the couch. It was a leather sectional, so it fit my tall frame. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I’d slept on worse. Frankie’s couch was like heaven compared to the cots they gave us to sleep on when I was overseas.

  Staring into the darkness, I thought about the promise I’d made Eddie all those years ago, before Frankie and I were even married. He’d made me promise not to take her; it was an impossible request. Anyone who spent any amount of time could see how hard it would be to stay away from her. She was magnetic.

  There was a sweetness in her that she didn’t show many people, an innocence that I’d worried had been lost along the way, but I’d seen it in her eyes tonight. She was scared. Even though her words were to the contrary, her eyes were begging for me to protect her, and I always would. Especially when she didn’t think it was necessary, because that was when she needed it the most.

  I had a secret though; I was terrified. Not only did we not have any idea who was stalking her, but I knew the more time I spent with Frankie, the more my willpower was bound to crumble until there was nothing left but dust. We’d taken the road of avoidance; we hadn’t breathed a word about being married to each other for six years. Instead, we pretended it never happened. I’d thought about filing for divorce after she graduated from college, but she’d never mentioned it so I held out hope that someday the forces that kept us apart would disappear and somehow we’d find our way to each other.

  I’d married the woman I loved eight years ago, but I’d never allowed myself to be the husband she deserved—if she even wanted that anymore

  * * *

  I was awake before Frankie’s alarm went off the next morning. I checked the doors and windows again; everything was still secure. What I couldn’t figure out was how the hell someone could get into her house without her knowing it. It just didn’t make sense. There was no sign of forced entry on any of the windows or doors, and according to Frankie, she was the only one that had a key to her place. Since she owned the apartment, there wasn’t even a landlord that had access.

  After folding the blanket I’d used, I headed into the kitchen. I was rummaging around in the cupboards looking for coffee when she came in. She was wearing the same thing she’d had on last night with the addition of knee-high Batman socks. Her epic nerdiness shouldn’t get me hard, but it did.

  “What are you doing?” she yawned, wiping sleep from her eyes. In her sleepy state, she’d apparently forgotten she was mad at me.

  “Looking for coffee,” I said, looking everywhere but at her smooth bare thighs. “Actually, where’s your coffeepot?” I asked.

  “Don’t have one,” she grumbled and shuffled toward the fridge.

  “Why not?” I questioned as my eyes tracked her ass across the room. She opened the fridge and bent down, reaching to the back of the bottom shelf. I was mesmerized, everything around me fell away as I stared at her tight little ass, all perfect and round, held high in the air, the perfect angle for…

  “Because I have this,” she said with her head in the fridge. She interrupted my ogling by standing up with a can of Red Bull held high. Of course, her insane caffeine addiction couldn’t possibly be satisfied by coffee.

  “Right, breakfast of champions.”

  She popped the tab and took a drink before turning to face me. She blinked a few times and coughed. “Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” she demanded.

  I looked down at myself then back up at her. “I’m wearing pants.”

  She huffed out a breath and glared at me. “New rule. Shirts are required at all times.”

  “But not pants?” I asked with a smirk. A blush was starting to rise on her neck, and I took great joy in the fact that my body was the reason for her discomfort.

  “All clothes, all the time,” she gritted out.

  “What about in the shower? That could be kind of difficult.”

  Her eyes narrowed further. “Don’t be a dick,” she said and stormed off to her room.

  I just shook my head and laughed to myself. At least I knew she wasn’t completely unaffected by me. This was going to interesting.

  After I dropped Frankie off at work, I headed to my apartment to grab a few changes of clothes. I had no idea how long I’d be living with Frankie, but I figured it would be safer to limit my belongings to one bag. There was no telling how she’d react if my things started taking over her house. I was likely to lose a nut.

  We fell into a somewhat easy routine throughout the rest of the week. I’d drop her off at work, go to work myself, and be back to pick her up at the end of each day. We’d order takeout and Frankie would retreat to her bedroom to do whatever it was she did, leaving me with free reign of the TV—which was fine by me.

  Friday evening, Frankie went to dinner with Mia to discuss wedding plans, and I was more than happy to let Angelo take over security detail for the night. Instead, I spent my evening sweeping her apartment for bugs and cleaning my guns.

  “You guys didn’t need to walk me up. I’m fine!” Frankie said as she pushed the front door open.

  “Don’t give me that shit. There’s a fucking psycho peeping Tom out there stalking you. Of course we’re going to make sure you get upstairs and into your apartment safely,” Mia said from the doorway.

  “Okay, fine! Good night, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Frankie said waving them off and closing the door. “Jesus, you’d think I was a fucking inmate with the way they’re fucking on me,” she said turning around.

  “They’re just worried—we all are—so cut them some slack. Especially Mia, she’s been through enough; the last thing she needs is something happening to someone else she cares about. She might burn down the entire west coast,” I said, returning my attention to the task at hand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  I raised an eyebrow and lifted the gun in my hand. “Cleaning my guns,” I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it kind of was. There were pieces of at least seven different guns laid out on the coffee table.

  “Why are you doing it in my living room? You’re just going to leave these things laying around? Why do you have so many?” she demanded angrily.

  “Where else am I supposed to do it? Besides, I’m not leaving anything laying around, and it’s not like you’ve got kids running around. I’m sure you know better than to play with a gun,” I said, ignoring her question about the number of guns. I was a man; there was no such thing as too many guns.

  Apparently I’d said something wrong because her face kind of crumpled for a second, then she set her jaw and spit out, “Fuck you,” before stomping to her room, which she’d just about perfected the past week and leaving me sitting on the couch, gun in hand, confused as all hell.

  * * *

  We found the letter Saturday afternoon. Frankie was sifting through a week’s worth of ma
il that had piled up on the kitchen counter when an envelope without a return address caught her eye.

  “Enzo,” she called out. Her voice had a panicked edge to it which caused me to rush out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, my wet feet leaving a trail behind me.

  “What is it?” I asked, my heart rate returning to normal when I saw no immediate danger. My relief didn’t last long once I noticed she was standing completely still, unnaturally so, as if she were afraid to even breathe. She raised a piece of paper in my direction with a trembling hand.

  I took the letter from her and read it aloud.

  Frankie,

  Why are you doing this to us? He should not be there. He’s going to ruin everything. He’ll corrupt you, turn you against me. Do not listen to anything he says, he’s a liar! Your bodyguard will not keep me from you. I’m still watching. You are mine. You belong with me!

  I’m coming for you.

  “Let me see the envelope,” I barked out. She reached down to grab it from the pile of mail in front of her, but her hands were shaking so badly, she dropped it twice before finally handing it to me.

  The envelope was postmarked five days ago from the same zip code as Frankie’s home address. I didn’t want to scare her more—so I didn’t mention it—but it had my stomach rolling. This psycho was close, and he’d been watching her so carefully that he was able to respond immediately after the first night I’d stayed over.

  I snatched my phone off the counter and dialed Angelo. He picked up on the second ring. “Enzo?”

  “Do you still have that contact in the police department?” I asked.

  “Which one? I have a lot of contacts,” he replied lazily.

  “Do not fuck with me right now!” I roared, causing Frankie to flinch.

  Damn it.

  I didn’t mean to scare her. I took a deep breath and continued through gritted teeth. “The forensics woman.”

  “Mallory? Yeah, I’ve got her number. What’s going on?”

  “He sent a letter.”

  “Shit,” he responded, and I heard him relaying the information to someone in the background before he came back on the line. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Carlo says to bring the letter to the compound, and we’ll have Mallory come over and check it out.”

  “Yeah, we’ll head out there now,” I said and disconnected the call. Turning my attention back to Frankie, I noticed her face had gone white, except for her nose, which was bright red.

  Shit.

  “Hey,” I said, trying for a gentle tone, but my voice came out rough instead. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Frankie?”

  “What did I do to deserve this?” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word.

  I rounded the counter and pulled her into my arms. “Shh, you didn’t do anything. Don’t worry, I’ll find out who it is. When I find him, I’ll make sure he can never get close to you again. I promise.”

  Her arms squeezed tight around my waist and she started to sob. “I’m so scared,” she tearfully admitted.

  “You’re safe; I’ve got you,” I whispered over and over again as I rubbed circles on her back.

  Her tears eventually subsided, and when her breathing returned to normal, she pulled away from me, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. It was big on her, the sleeves falling well past her hands—it was a men’s hoodie. The realization had my jaw clenching painfully.

  She sniffed, oblivious to my sudden burst of jealousy. “Dude, the rules still stand, go put some fucking clothes on!” she shouted, and I had to laugh. She may be scared, but she was still my Frankie.

  After I was sufficiently dressed, I put the letter in a plastic bag and we headed out to the DeLuca compound to meet the others. Hopefully Angelo’s forensic friend, Mallory, could find something that would lead us to whomever the stalker was.

  “I just don’t know who it could be,” Frankie whispered, interrupting the silence we’d been driving in for the past twenty minutes.

  “It might be someone you’ve never even met before,” I said, chancing a glance at her. Her head was resting on the window and she was staring out at the trees as we raced down the highway.

  “I don’t know. It feels so personal, like the person knows me or something.”

  “Well, who knows how long he’s been watching you. You can learn a lot about a person from just paying attention.”

  “He sent me roses and lilies, Enzo. Stargazer lilies.”

  Fuck.

  Dread filled my chest and bile rose up in the back of my throat. Whoever was doing this was closer than I’d thought. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, trying not to sound angry, but I was furious. This could be just as much about me as it was about her.

  “I don’t know, there was just so much going on, and then you dropped the ‘hey by the way we’re married’ bomb and I just didn’t think about it.”

  “How did you know they weren’t from me?” I asked through a lump in my throat.

  “It wasn’t my birthday,” she said sharply.

  “Come on, I’ve sent you flowers when it wasn’t your birthday,” I argued.

  She sighed heavily. “You use the same florist every time, you would never have them delivered to work, and you always write a card.”

  14

  Frankie

  Present

  The rest of the drive to Carlo and Mia’s home was silent. The ramification of the flower realization was huge. Very few people knew me well enough to know some of the intimate details that this stalker knew, and even fewer people knew that Enzo still sent me flowers on my birthday every year. I’d lived alone for years, and he always had them delivered to my house. I’d never told anyone, not even Mia.

  I wasn’t sure I could ever look at those flowers the same way again, and as irrational as it was, that was the thing that was most upsetting. I was shaken to the core that someone could take the one thing that I still shared with Enzo after all these years of emotional torment and defile it.

  As soon as we walked through the door, Leo ushered us into a conference room towards the back of the house that I hadn’t even known existed. A petite woman in her early thirties was sitting at the conference table. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight bun and she wore jeans and a sweatshirt, definitely not trying to impress anyone. I liked her instantly. She’d been talking to Angelo but turned her attention to us expectantly when we walked in the room.

  “Hi, I’m Mallory,” she introduced herself politely. “Do you have the document?”

  Enzo handed the letter over to her but didn’t back up; instead, he towered over her with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. She eyed him curiously, but she wasn’t intimidated. She did, however, look annoyed.

  “You’re in my light. You mind backing up a bit and letting me do my job?” she asked, her polite demeanor still in place but her eyes held an edge of authority. Enzo grunted and took a step back. It wasn’t a big one though, which earned him the stink eye from Angelo.

  “Where’s Mia?” I asked, hoping to divert their attention for a while so they’d let the poor woman work.

  “Antonio took her down to Salem to visit Pauline and Michael,” Angelo replied, one eye still on Enzo.

  “Did you tell her about the letter?” I asked, hoping like hell he hadn’t.

  That got his attention. “No, I haven’t spoken to her since Enzo called. Why?”

  “I’d just rather not worry her. She’s got the wedding to plan and she’s nearly five months pregnant; she doesn’t need the added stress.”

  He eyed me curiously, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut, but you better check with Carlo; he might’ve already said something.”

  “I’ll talk to him before I leave,” I agreed.

  “Okay, so the envelope is a lost cause. Since it clearly went through the postal service there’s no telling how many people touched that thing. However, I was able to lift a few
prints from the letter. Which of you touched it?” Mallory asked from her seat.

  “We both did,” Enzo answered curtly.

  “Okay, so I’ll need to get samples of both your fingerprints to rule you out and see if there are prints from any unknown persons.”

  Pulling out a card and ink pad, Mallory waved me over to go first. She rolled each finger in ink and transferred the print onto the card and repeated the process with Enzo.

  “How long will it take to match the prints?” Enzo asked when he was finished wiping the ink from his fingers.

  “Not long. Have a little patience big guy,” Mallory said without looking up from her magnifying glass.

  Enzo went back to his brooding while she worked. I, on the other hand, was racking my brain for who it could possibly be. The letter and address on the envelope had been typed, so there weren’t any clues to be found there. The fact that we had nothing to go on was driving me insane.

  “It’s clean,” Mallory announced, much to everyone’s disappointment. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” she said in response to our accumulative groans and curses.

  “Back to square one,” I complained.

  “There is something that might be useful. See here,” she said, pointing to a particular part of the text. “He uses positive contractions but not negative contractions.”

  “He? So it’s for sure a man?” Angelo asked.

  “The letter is aggressive and direct so you’re most likely dealing with a man, yes.”

  “Is it unusual? The thing with the contractions?” I asked.

  “I’m not an expert, but yeah, I’d say it’s unusual. It’s not the fact that he’s sometimes using them and sometimes not. What is strange is that he only uses positive contractions. Not many people do that. If you were to read this out loud, it would sound strange and stilted. The good thing is, if you get a hold of something else this person has written, there’s a good chance you’ll find the same pattern.”