“Will you kill me, Gio?” She lifts those blue eyes to meet my gaze as she asks the question. The sound of my name on her lips sends sparks through my veins.
Will I kill her?
I don’t know how to answer that, I’ve never been in a position where I’ve had to leave a man behind.
“Annie,” I warn.
“Just tell me.” she pleads. “I’m the weak link here, will you kill me if this doesn’t work?”
“Annie,” I start, “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” I turn and start jogging again.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she picks up her pace and begins following me, anyway.
I lead us through the tree cover landscape. She breathes heavily behind me but she doesn’t stop or complain, just follows.
Her question plays on a loop through my head.
Will I kill her?
The trail is beautiful, but I still can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading me to my death.
I follow him anyway. Maybe that’s dumb, but I don’t see another option.
I wonder if he would let me buy my freedom? But then I would have to get fifty grand from someone else.
“Keep up,” he calls. He’s several paces ahead of me now.
He runs effortlessly, his breathing is even, and he can hold a conversation. It doesn’t help that he looks too good in a pair of snug running shorts and a white shirt. His t-shirt only showcases a small damp patch around the v of his back.
My shirt on the other hand is drenched in sweat and clinging to my body. I’m convinced there's a fire in my lungs, just burning away my insides. I hate running, but I don’t mind watching Gio run.
My body betrays me when I look at Gio. Logically, I hate him. He put me in this situation and beat the shit out of my brother. Still, when he’s within eyesight, I can’t help but be attracted to him, and if he gets close enough to me I’m sucked into his vibrational frequency.
He starts to slow, and I can see a break in the trees leading to the parking lot ahead. I’m relieved because I might pass out if I have to run a second longer, I’m hot and absolutely miserable.
“Gio.” He announces into the ringing cell phone. His strides slow to a walk and his steps crunch along the gravel as he heads to the Porsche.
I’m barely out of the woods when I stop to lean onto my knees and catch my breath. My bun is now loose and strands of hair are falling haphazardly and sticking to my neck and face. I’m dripping with sweat, this might be the worst workout ever.
“Arms up.” He shouts at me without stopping his phone conversation.
Begrudgingly I push up to stand and raise my arms. I know he’s right, but I still don’t want to listen to him. I’d rather just lay down on the gravel than stand at all, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be pissed if I crawl on the ground like a child.
“What?” he shouts into the phone. “Who shot him?”
My breath hitches and I stumbled on my way to the car. I know he’s a dangerous man, still, the idea of someone he knows being shot doesn’t sit well with me. Luckily we’re the only ones in the parking lot to hear his conversation.
He waves a hand for me to move to the car. My legs ache as I force them forward.
“Okay.” He huffs sitting in the driver's seat. “I want the funeral covered. Give ten large to his wife, she needs to be taken care of.” I watch him as he listens to the person on the other end of the phone talk. “Yeah, and this doesn’t stand. You hear me? I need to know who acted.” Without waiting for a response he jabs the end call button with his finger.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He’s seething with anger, hands gripped around the steering wheel, eyes locked out the windshield. He whips his head to face me at the sound of my voice. “Yeah,” he scrubs a hand down his face, his anger slowly subsiding. “Just dealing with something.”
“Someone got hurt?” I question.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Killed.”
“Oh.” my heart clenches. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, not your fault Annie.” He turns his attention from me to start the car, putting it in reverse.
“I know, just, that sucks.”
His eyes find me again, studying me. I don’t think he expects sympathy from considering the reason we’re even here together. He looks raw, the hard layers of him fading away.
“I’m sorry that happened.” I whisper. “You’re sweet to take care of his family.”
He pulls the car out of the spot, navigating it back on the road.
“Thank you.” he finally responds.
Maybe, just maybe there's more to Gio DelGado.
He drops me off at my apartment complex with the parting words of “run more”. He doesn’t walk me up to the door, just speeds away from me. He was frustrated the entire ride, hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel as if he was trying to suffocate it. I wanted to know what happened, the question was on the tip of my tongue the entire ride. He probably wouldn’t have answered it even if I did ask.
I’m the enemy, I don’t get that kind of inside knowledge.
I know that someone close to him just died, and honestly, I’m not even sure what happened, but his sudden departure makes me feel used and unwanted.
I shake the feeling and head for the stairs. I’m sweaty, exhausted, and desperately in need of a shower.
As soon as I hit the second-floor landing, I see my brother. He’s slumped against my door waiting for me.
I’m not naïve here, I know Johnny’s not reliable and that he wasn’t staying as clean as he told me he was. Now, I wonder if the apartment and job in Boston were even real, or if he was putting up a facade to trick me.
Still, I can’t just drop him. He’s the only family I have left. Plus, I’m his only support system. It’s always been just us, I can’t abandon him now even if I am still mad at him.
We grew up dirt poor, mostly because our father gambled away all of our money, so money isn’t a strong suit for either of us. Dad was always gone, out looking for his next fix or for a bookie that would loan him money and take his bet.
I’m only two years older than him, but I grew up taking care of him as if he were my own child. I cleaned the house and made sure he had everything he needed. We made dinner time into a game of who could come up with the most creative combination of canned goods. We’d add stale goldfish to a tuna noodle casserole or garlic to buttered noodles and call it gourmet. It wasn’t until after our mom left that I realized we were the definition of poverty.
My only priority was to get Johnny out of this life. I repeated it like a mantra. When the world was crumbling around me I focused all of my attention on him, getting him through this part of our lives.
Once we grew up this was all supposed to end.
And then we grew up. Dad’s still a miserable alcoholic and Johnny is too close to following in his footsteps.
I felt like a disappointment.
I ushered my clearly high and heavily bruised brother into my apartment, The word failure echoed through my head.
I’m the only person he has, and I still can’t help him pull his life together.
But I also can’t help but be mad at him for getting me into this mess.
“You never called me back,” I tell him, leading him to the couch.
“I’m sorry Annie.” his voice is sad, pleading.
I face him. “I just wanted to know you were okay.” I take in his appearance. His face has some old yellow bruises lingering, his body looks skinnier, and he’s babying his right arm, holding it tightly against his chest.
“What did they do to you?”
“You don’t want to know.” He tells me, sinking deeper into my sofa.
I rub the aching muscles at the back of my neck. “Probably not.” I agree, if he tells me how badly Frank beat him up there's a chance I’ll take it out on Gio and that won’t help either of us.
“I’m okay.” He adds.
“You’re alive.�
��
“Yeah,” he stifles a laugh.
“How’s Rob?”
“He pissed himself.” Johnny smiles at the memory, “But he’s fine.”
I frown. “That’s awful.”
“It could have been worse.” we sit in silence for a moment before his gaze reaches back up to me. “I should thank you, ya know. For saving me. He was going to kill me.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “It was a bad plan.”
“It worked.” he shrugs.
“Barely.” I purse my lips.
“But it did.” He leans forward placing his elbows onto his knees. He uses his hands to hold his head. He looks like a kid. Like the baby brother I raised. “Annie,” he begins, his tone serious. “You just got an in to the fucking mob. Do you realize that? We’re set for life.”
He’s happy with himself. Proud even. His matching blue eyes meet mine with a look of delight.
Anger floods my body, red glossing over my eyes. “Is that really what you think happened?”
This man. My baby brother. Is a fucking idiot.
“Johnny, they could have killed us! And he’s using me for a job, if I fuck up we could still lose our lives. Do you understand that?”
“An-”
“No, listen to me, for once. Stay under the fucking radar. Don’t do anything that could get you killed and let me finish this out, okay?”
He nods dismissively. “Okay. Fine.” He stands, dusting off his jeans and heading for the door. That’s how he is, unable to take any type of negativity. Everything has to be on his terms.
“Please, Johnny,” I add. “Don’t make me lose you too.”
His face softens as he looks back to me. “You won’t lose me Annie.”
Somehow I doubt that.
The city animal shelter is an oasis of sorts for me. Rows and rows of happy, fluffy animals beg for my attention. I often come here when I’m sad, or stressed, or happy. Any emotion is the right emotion to seek comfort from these little cuties.
I want to take one home more than anything, but I don’t have a schedule that allows for an animal, especially not a dog who requires a lot of attention. Now that Gio owns half of my life I barely see the inside of my apartment unless I’m sleeping or changing clothes. That doesn’t stop me from visiting the shelter though.
“Are you adopting a dog?” His breath hits the base of my neck as his husky voice infiltrates my ears. I jump at the sound, but I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Gio.
“Jeez,” I stammer, spinning on my heels to face him. “Are you stalking me?”
A grin spreads wide on his face. “Tracking, actually.” He holds up his phone to show me an app with a pin on my location.
My own phone feels heavier in my pocket. For a minute I forgot that my every movement was watched. I feel like a piece of property, owned by the mobster.
“What do you want then?” I purse my lips, and cross my arms over my chest.
“Just following up.” he leans casually against the cinderblock wall that separates the dog kennels.
I haven’t seen him in a week, since he took me running. He looks good as ever, my memory doesn’t do him justice. He’s dressed in all black from the leather shoes on his feet to his suit and silk shirt. His jacket is pressed, shirt wrinkle-free. He looks perfect, and more attractive than I want to admit.
“Wanted to see how your training is going.” He smiles, flashing me a view of his pearly white teeth.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “Take a walk with me.” He gestures outside the shelter.
I have a brief moment of fear. After not hearing from him in a week he shows up and asks to take a walk. All of my internal alarms are going off.
He pushes off the wall to lean in close to me. “It's fine, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.” he whispers, then pulls back from me showing off a cocky grin.
“No one piqued your interest?” A staff member asks as we help back to the entrance.
“Not today.” Gio flashes her a charming smile. “Come on, honey.” He presses a hand to my lower back, leading me out of the shelter.
We walk down the street, we’re in a nice area of downtown Providence only a few blocks away from my apartment building. The street is lined with cute shops that have wooden tables, metal chairs, and exposed brick. The hipster blueprint. We walk silently until we reach a residential area. It’s a historic district with old houses that have been redone. This is one of my favorite places to walk.
“You’re not training?” Gio asks, taking my non-answer from earlier as a no.
“Not really.” I mumble. Between work and school, my time is limited, plus I hate running.
“You need to run daily. I can have Charlie or Tony join you if you need it.”
“No.” I quickly answered. The idea of running with one of his goons makes my heart speed up. No thank you.
He cocks an eyebrow at my response. “Do you want me to join you?” he asks
“No,” I whisper, sounding unsure of myself.
He grins at that answer. “If you want me to make more time for you Annie, all you need to do is ask.”
I don't respond, there's nothing to say to that smug grin on his face. Besides, he's my employer, not a friend for me to hang out with.
It also doesn't help that my heart races when he's around.
“I love these old houses.” I tell him, changing the subject. “This one,” I point at the one we're passing. It's a charming two-story family home, a little run down and in need of love, but still adorable.
Gio’s lips turn to a straight line. “This has to be the worst one on the block. Why?”
I smile gazing at the house. Sure, it isn't as well maintained as the rest of the houses on the block, but it's the details that make it charming. It has an arched doorway, original brick, and ivy that grows up the side. “See the shutters?” I point to the black shutters on the front of the half with crescent moons cut out of the top and bottoms. “I love that detail.”
He stares at the house for a while, squinting his eyes. He doesn't see the charming details that I love.
“Hmm,” he hums. “To each his own.” He gives me a pitiful smile and continues walking.
“Fine,” I huff. “But it’s adorable. I stand by it.”
He chuckles. “Whatever you say, Annie.”
My childhood home holds too many memories for me.
It's a large two story family home built in a fancy Providence suburb near Federal Hill. The house is a product of the dream life Giuseppe and Maria DelGado built together, the dream that blew up the day she was gunned down.
I scrub a hand down my face as I look over the house. Mama would be disappointed if she saw it now. The landscaping is overgrown, the grass needs cut, and inside I’m sure to find piles of trash. Dad and Gemma are the only ones living here now, and neither are doing well without ma.
There used to be so much life here, and now, just humans who can’t hold themselves together for more than one meal a week.
Ma was the type of mother and wife who loved to take care of everyone. As a kid, I’d be greeted after school with the smell of fresh-baked cookies. She was involved in every committee, both at school and in the neighborhood. She volunteered, donated time and money, she helped everyone she could.
She was genuinely the best part of our family.
And they took her.
Ma and Dad, Maria and Giuseppe, had grown up a few miles away in Federal Hill, the hub of Italian immigrants and la Familia. This house was proof of the sacrifices and violence they had risen above.
Since Ma's death, everything was different in this house. Plants died, dishes sat in the sink, laundry was never cleaned. Gian and I had tried to hire help for dad and Gemma, but even with a maid the house was never as clean as ma would have liked. Dad and Gemma didn’t even notice most of the time, or if they did they didn’t care much.
I guess that’s the problem wit
h grief.
You’re too numb to care.
I grab the tray of chicken parmesan and stuffed manicotti from my car. None of us can cook. Gian and I are lost causes when it comes to cooking, dad can’t even make toast, and Gemma refused to learn because she was, I quote, a feminist. Petey, a chef at one of my restaurants makes us a whole buffet now for our Sunday dinners. It’s not the same, but it’s better than starving.
“Gem says she’s not joining us.” Gian greets me at the front door with his arms crossed and his foot tapping, a normal stance for him.
“Nice to see you too.” I push through the door balancing the overstuffed trays of food.
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves a hand.
“You know she’s struggling.” I set dinner on the counter pivot to face my brother. “You still worried?”
Gian is good at hiding his feelings around everyone but me. We have a sort of understanding of each other that no one else can match. He’s older by exactly eighteen months and those are the only months we’ve been apart. There are no secrets between the two of us. I can tell when he’s pissed, sick, moody. We’ve opened all of our businesses together. He’s my closest friend.
I can sense the anxiety radiating from him. Anyone else would look at him and only see the calm and collected made man he presents himself to be. But me? I know that underneath that facade was a brother and a son worried for his family.
“Yeah,” he scrubbed a hand over his face. Unlike mine, that has too much stubble, Gian’s face is clean-shaven. “It’s been six months.” his face is pained. “And she’s still not herself.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know how to help her.” Gian flings his arms out in desperation.
“I know.” I sink back against the counter. “She has to get through it on her own. The grief counselor-”
Gian shoots me a look. “Fuck the grief counselor.”
The grief counselor was a last ditch effort we made to help Gemma. We hired a woman who specialized in dealing with death and paid her handsomely to keep quiet. Three sessions with Gemma and no success other than driving us crazy with her five stages of grief and motivational sayings. We didn’t even need a conversation to know that the woman needed to go. We fired her and left Gemma to her quiet crying over Ben and Jerry’s instead.
Gio: The DelGado Trilogy (An Enemies to Lovers Romance) Page 6