As I hauled her things into the cabin, I paused for a moment, wondering where I was going to put her stuff. There was a small loft upstairs where I could let her stay. It was empty right now. There was no bed or dresser, but at least it would be someplace for her to stay. Taking the stairs, I headed up there and dropped her things in the corner. It was warm enough up here, and since heat rises, she should stay pretty warm. I stared at the floor, wondering what I would have her sleep on.
“I can just sleep on the couch,” she said from behind me.
My back went ramrod straight. How had I not heard her behind me? Was I losing my touch? Hell, I needed to get her out of my head. She was making me weak and lazy.
“You’ll stay here,” I said gruffly, turning and stomping down the stairs. I headed straight for the door, slamming it behind me as I headed for the wood pile. I started angrily piling up the wood to bring inside. I was stupid to bring her here. She was obviously up to something more than she was letting on. Amnesia or not, that woman was trouble, and whatever was hunting her would land on my doorstep. I wasn’t prepared to fight another battle. I wasn’t ready to get involved in someone else’s problems.
The fact that I couldn’t determine if she was the enemy or not had me questioning my own judgement, but if I was being honest, my judgement came into question long before she arrived.
“Antonio, you know me. I’m loyal to the family. I would never work with the Russians.”
I stared at my brother, on his knees in front of me as he was held back by two of our guards. He looked fucking pathetic, but still, I had a hard time believing that he had turned his back on his family. We all knew the consequences of turning on the Family.
“Prove it,” I snapped, staring at his bloodied face.
His mouth gaped in shock. He didn’t think I would ask that of him. He thought I would just go along with his charade and believe him because he was my brother. But family or not, if you betrayed one of us, you betrayed all of us. Loyalty was everything, and there was no way he could ever prove himself worthy after turning on us.
“I’ve always done what was best for everyone,” Alessandro blustered. “I’ve trusted you to have my back in every battle we’ve been in. When you give me information, I have never not trusted you.”
I scoffed. “And what does that prove? That I trusted you when you were playing me all along.”
He ducked his head, his eyes moving rapidly from side to side as he tried to come up with something compelling. “A few weeks ago, when the Bratva had us surrounded, I found us a way out. I killed ten of their men before taking a bullet to the shoulder. Why would I kill them if I was working with them?”
Uncle Giuseppe stepped up beside me shaking his head. “All of those men were soldiers, they were nobodies. They weren’t Vor.” The Vor were the equivalent of Made men, men that took the oath of the omertà, a vow of silence and honor to the family. Not just anyone could take out a hit on a Made man. That was the same as declaring war, and it was no different with the Vor. To take out a Vor, Alessandro would have been declaring war on the Bratva, and that we might not have survived. But he didn’t take out any Vor. He took out soldiers, and while the Russians wouldn’t have taken their deaths lightly, they wouldn’t have retaliated in the same way.
I studied Alessandro’s face as I thought this over. Something was bothering me, though. What reason did he have to work with the Bratva? He was next in line to take over the Scavuzzo Crime Family. Our father knew he was dying, and so did all the immediate family members. We had been preparing for months for his death. And if Alessandro worked with the Bratva, what would he have to gain? He would never be accepted into their family. He would always be a traitor, whether he helped them or not. They would never believe that he was really on their side.
I turned, motioning for my uncle to come closer. “Uncle, there’s something we’re missing. I don’t like this.”
He sighed heavily. “Antonio, we never like it when family turns on us, but it’s something that needs to be dealt with. If the other men see that you’re weak and offer forgiveness, they won’t respect you. This has to be done to hold the family together.”
I nodded, but I still wasn’t sure.
“It’s no coincidence that we lost track of him for ten minutes in tonight’s ambush. That was designed so he could get in and do what he was supposed to for the Bratva, and meanwhile, our men were being slaughtered. He’s a traitor. I know you don’t want to hear this because he’s your brother, but he did this.”
The door to the cellar swung open and Lorenzo walked in, giving me a nod. “You need to see this.”
I walked over to him, where he held his phone out to me. “That footage we’ve been trying to get? It just came through.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering why it came through right at this moment, but snatched the phone out of his hand. I watched the video play as my sister Carlotta walked into the gas station from her car. The camera zoomed in on another car in the background, much further away. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see who was standing there. Francesco, my best friend, and my brother, Alessandro, were hunkered down behind a car, watching her walk to the station. A third man ran out from behind the car and laid down under the car.
My fists tightened in anger as I watched him, knowing he was planting the bomb that killed my sister. He ran back to the car and they peeled out of the parking lot, not even sticking around to watch the chaos that would ensue. Taking a deep breath, I turned on my brother and slowly walked over to him. The confused look on his face told me he had no idea that I got my hands on that video footage. He had killed his own sister, and for what? She was no threat to him.
I raised my gun, feeling nothing but anger flow through me. He was a traitor, and traitors paid the price.
I stood next to the wood pile, my hands shaking as I fought off the memory. It constantly played on a loop in my mind, reminding me of the errors I made. I would never forgive myself for what I had done. I had torn my family apart, and even though my uncle had greatly influenced me, I should have known better. I should have waited and gathered more information. But I trusted the wrong person, and now my brother, the man I always looked up to, was dead.
Something told me I was trusting the wrong person yet again. I glanced over at the cabin, angry with myself for letting her get under my skin. She had to go. I had to get rid of her. I couldn’t kill her. I had just walked out of the hospital in front of a cop with her. But she couldn’t stay. I’d take her into Denver and drop her at the shelter. But as I looked up at the sky, I knew I couldn’t do it now. I had to get wood to the cabin before the storm moved in. If I was lucky, I wouldn’t have to wait long for the storm to pass. If I wasn’t lucky, I could be stuck up here for days with her.
I finished loading up the wood and then brought it up to the porch, covering it with a tarp. By the time I got back inside, I was frozen to the bone. Winters here were harsh as hell, but I’d survived worse. I was just kicking off my boots when I smelled dinner cooking. Ciara wasn’t in the kitchen, but there was a pot on the stove with steam coming out from the crooked lid.
“Oh, hey,” Ciara said, coming down the stairs from the loft. She was moving awkwardly, like it was painful to put too much pressure on her leg. “I made some dinner for us. I’m no great cook, but it’s food, right?”
I glanced at the stove and then to her, infusing anger into my stare. “I didn’t tell you to touch anything.”
She rolled her eyes at me. What the fuck? “Seriously, you have to lay off the whole angry bear thing if we’re going to live together.”
“This is still my fucking cabin, whether I brought you here or not, and you will obey me.”
She snorted and stirred something in the pot. “Right. Well, I’ll respect that this is your place and all that, but obey you? Sorry, this isn’t the 1900’s.”
I clenched my fists, trying not to lose my shit with her. Who the hell did she think she was talking to me like that? I o
pened my mouth to tell her just exactly who she was addressing when I remembered that I didn’t hold that title anymore. Besides, it wasn’t something I needed to broadcast. She might go running for the hills or run back to that cop and start blabbering. Fuck, I should have left her behind.
Ignoring her, I walked over to the cabinet and pulled down some bowls. When she didn’t move, I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her in the air, shifting her out of my way. She gasped slightly, grabbing my biceps to hold steady.
“You could have just asked me to move.”
“You could just stay out of my way,” I countered.
When I lifted the lid from the pot, the smells overwhelmed me. I was a fairly decent cook, but this smelled amazing.
I eyed her warily. “This a favorite recipe of yours?”
She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “I have no clue.”
I turned to her, crossing my arms over my chest. “You have no clue, but you just happened to throw together a meal that smells like this in the last hour?”
“Well…it might taste like shit for all I know.”
I glared at her. How the hell was I supposed to trust a damn thing out of this woman’s mouth? Turning back to the stove, I scooped out a bowl of stew for her and then one for me. When I turned around, she was hobbling across the room to the table.
I caught up to her and snatched the bowl out of her hands, earning me a surprised yelp. “Next time, just let me carry the damn thing for you. The last thing I need is to clean up stew spilled all over the floor.”
I thumped her bowl down on the table and took my seat. She eased down into her chair, wincing slightly as she finally relaxed against the back. She looked worn down, not that I could blame her after her accident. But she shouldn’t have been on her feet, cooking for me. She might be faking the whole amnesia thing, but the pain she was feeling was real.
Shoving my chair back, I walked around to her side and pulled up another chair. She balked when I lifted her leg, then frowned when I settled it on the chair.
“You should keep your leg elevated. And stop moving around so damn much. I can make my own damn food.”
Sitting down again, I ignored the scowl she sent my way. What was it going to take to finally get the upper hand with this woman? No matter how I acted, she didn’t back down. She just kept dishing it back, making it impossible for me to keep control. And I really fucking needed control. I took a sip of the stew, glaring at her when the taste hit me like a freight train. It was fucking amazing. Now she was really pissing me off.
12
Ciara
Darkness swirled around me. Faces appeared hauntingly, but never clearly. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going. Everything was so messed up.
“You must do this for us.”
Do what? What was I supposed to do?
“If you fail, we could have a bigger threat on our hands.”
I felt myself nodding, but I didn’t understand. Who was the threat, and how was I supposed to do anything about it?
“Ciara,” a voice whispered from somewhere in the darkness.
I spun around, searching for the voice, but I couldn’t find it. I started running, my hands flung out to grasp something in the darkness, but there was nothing there. I tripped and suddenly I was falling. Hauntingly beautiful blue eyes stared at me. A hand reached out to grab me, but it was too late. I was falling and the crushing pain when I hit the bottom was overwhelming.
“Don’t fail me, Ciara.”
I jolted upright, a scream lodged in my throat as I panted heavily. The darkness weighed heavily on me, and I couldn’t figure out if I was still trapped in my dream or in reality. A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed the hand and pulled as hard as I could. The figure landed with a thud on the ground, groaning slightly. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the pain in my leg as I kicked out with my good leg.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Antonio shouted as he caught my leg just as it was about to hit his ribs. My other leg gave out under the pressure and I collapsed on the ground breathing hard. Antonio was up in a flash, flipping on the light switch.
I squinted under the bright light. “Sorry about that.”
“You were shouting,” Antonio said bluntly.
“Sorry,” I grumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “Bad dream.”
“And you always attack people when you wake up from a bad dream?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” I spat. I felt like he was testing me, always looking for any sign that I was lying.
“What was the dream about?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. None of it made sense. Somebody was talking to me about a threat and then I was falling.” I looked up into his eyes, his presence calming me once again. “Maybe it was the accident.”
His lips pressed together tightly before he nodded. “Maybe. Did you recognize the voice?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t recognize anything. It was just whispers.”
“It could have been someone you talked to…before you came here.”
My head pounded and I pressed my fingers against my temple. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Right now, I just wanted to forget that I even had a dream. “Does it matter?”
He watched me for a moment. “You tell me. You’re the one that can’t remember anything.”
“It probably wasn’t even real, just a nightmare.”
He nodded. “But nightmares have a way of telling us things about our past or what’s to come.”
I frowned. “Do you really believe that?”
He stood suddenly and walked for the door. “Do you want the light on or off?”
“On,” I said quickly. There was no way I could get back to sleep right now. His footsteps pounded down the stairs, though he was probably walking normally. This headache seemed to intensify everything. That was probably what happened. It was the headache that made the dream so intense.
Standing from my spot on the floor, I walked over to my suitcase and pulled on some thick socks and a sweatshirt, then headed downstairs. I wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon. I pulled a ponytail holder from my wrist and wrapped my hair up out of my face as I walked into the kitchen. Being as quiet as possible, I dug around for a tea kettle, but came up empty. There was a microwave though, so that would have to do. I had seen some tea bags around here earlier, and I dug one out and plopped it in a cup of water.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped, pressing my hand to my chest. “Jesus, do you always have to sneak up on people?”
“I was walking in my own home,” he hissed. “I hardly think that qualifies as sneaking.”
Turning from him, I filled a cup with water. “I was just making some tea.”
“With what?”
“The tea bags I found in here.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t buy those. I wouldn’t use them.”
Biting my lip, I decided to take a chance. I needed something soothing. Putting in two and a half minutes on the microwave, I pressed start and leaned against the counter. Antonio still stood there, just staring at me.
“What?”
“Are you staying up?” he asked irritatedly.
“Well, I can’t fall back asleep…I’ll be quiet.”
Sighing, he walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. I took the rare opportunity to study him. He looked tired, like he didn’t sleep much either. He rubbed at his eyes and rested his head back against the couch. When his eyes shut, I found myself studying every last thing about his face. He had tan skin, which seemed strange when he lived up in the mountains, so maybe he wasn’t from around here. He had a strong jaw under a thick beard and dark, thick eyebrows. I wouldn’t say he was classically handsome, more like rugged, but that could have been his long hair. It hung down just around his jaw, giving him a badass vibe. Thick biceps stretched his t-shirt, showing the strength I knew he possessed.
The longer I watched him though, the more I wondered what he looked like without the beard and long hair. Something about his features was familiar, but I couldn’t figure out how. It felt like he was someone I might know, but that was ridiculous. How could I know this man? I only met him after crashing my car. And wouldn’t he recognize me if I knew him?
Shaking off that line of thinking, I opened the door to the microwave after it dinged. Taking the steaming mug of tea into the other room, I sat down on the other end of the couch. He opened his eyes and glared at me, like he didn’t want me that close to him.
I glared right back. The man had a serious attitude problem, and if I was going to be staying here, we were going to have to come to some sort of truce on the death glares. Besides, he was the only person I knew. I needed to get along with him, and for him to not hate me.
I sipped the tea, grimacing when I tasted it.
“I told you not to drink it.”
I set it on the table, shuddering slightly. “It’s not just the tea. It’s that it was warmed up in the microwave.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tea always tastes better when it’s made with boiling water from a kettle.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “How do you know that?”
I stared at him, a little stunned. “I…I don’t know. That’s weird, isn’t it?”
“That’s more than weird. You don’t know your name, but you know that tea is better when made with boiling water from a kettle?”
“I guess…” I frowned, shaking my head. “I don’t know. It’s like when I made the stew. I just knew how to do it. It was almost like I knew how it was going to turn out.”
“Like the tea,” he supplied.
Nodding, I shrugged. “I guess. I can’t explain it.”
Dead Man's Hand: A Small Town Romance (A Good Run Of Bad Luck Book 1) Page 7