I had to watch for him to leave this AM in order for me to sneak out to get to work. I’m afraid tonight he’s going to be breaking my door down.
This is what I get for falling in love with a criminal.
I feel heavy.
Heavy with regret.
Heavy with grief.
Heavy with fear.
I’m terrified. It's been twenty four hours and I still don’t know where Johnny is. The halls of the nursing home feel suffocating and I find myself wondering out to the patio that overlooks a small pond. Not many residents gather here. Most of them are nosy and would rather sit in the hallways or the t.v. room and gossip. It makes this a nice escape for me to catch my breath.
“Kiddo,” Bernie, my favorite resident, is here. Of course, he would be one of the few residents seeking stillness from the indoors. “You look pale. Sick.” He says accusingly. “Are you sick?”
Bernie is an old Italian. The nurses joke that he’s a former wise guy himself, but I never believed that. He’s too nice, too sweet to me. I don’t believe a man like him could ever be dangerous.
But now?
Now, I know that dangerous men come in beautiful packages.
I know there are men that can be sweet as honey, and still be sinners.
Within the short period of time I’ve known Gio I’ve been hardened. The old soft girl I used to be is gone, left in her place is stone.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
I was trying my hardest to fake it.
Bernie scoffs. “Girl, I’m older than dirt. I know a sad face when I see one. What happened? Was it that boy?” Bernie’s hands clench around the arms of his wheelchair. By older than dirt, he means he just turned 90. He outlived his wife, a fact that he tells everyone. He’s pissed about it, and it’s kind of sweet. He was angry that she got to go first, peacefully, and he was left behind to live without her. All of the nurses gush about it. How sweet, they say, he loves her so much.
“Yeah,” I slump into the bench next to his wheelchair. “It was a guy.”
“What are we gonna do about it then?”
I laugh, the sound light and sweet, it relieves some of the pain that’s been taking up space in my body.
“We’re gonna ignore his phone calls.” I give Bernie a smirk.
“Ah, madone.” He waves a wrinkly hand. “Does he drive a nice car?”
“A Porsche.”
“Key it.” Bernie tells me seriously.
Laughter bubbles up in my chest. I would love to see Gio’s face when he sees scratches across that perfect black paint job.
I won’t do it though. I’m not that type of girl. I won’t be spiteful.
“Do you love him?” Bernie asks once my laughter has settled.
I think about that question. Do I love him?
I love the way he touches me, the way he says my name, opens the car door for me. I love watching him with his family, dancing at his cousin’s wedding, telling stories about his sister. I love the way he looked at me that first day, and every day after.
He’s fiercely loyal, something I’ve never experienced before.
“I think so,” I say.
“Take it from an old man,” Bernie gives me a toothy grin. “Love isn't always easy, but it’s always worth it.”
The incessant calls have ceased only for Gio to be pounding on my door instead. I know it’s him. He’s the only person in my life who knocks so aggressively. Even Charlie only lightly pounded.
I take a steadying breath before I open the door.
He’s sinfully handsome, wearing jeans and his leather jacket, but I’m determined not to let his looks distract me.
“What did I tell you?” He asks me. He’s seething. His dark eyes hold me captive under their glare.
I’m taken aback by the anger. “What?”
He pushes through the door in a ball of fury, slamming it behind us. “Rule number one,” he points to the couch. “You were sitting right there when I told you to always answer my calls.”
I’m blinded by red. It fills me up, rising from my toes, making my hands curl into fists, coats my eyes and fuels my broken heart.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” the words tear from my lips. “What did you do to Johnny?”
Gio’s eyes flicker with something. Regret, maybe?
“That’s what this is about?” He exhales.
“I heard you on the phone. You said he was gone, that you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Gio runs a hand through his messy hair. “Why didn’t you come and talk to me?”
“Where is he, Gio? Did you kill him?”
His eyes change from deep sympathetic brown to bold anger. “Seriously? Do you really think I would do that to you?” He waits for an answer.
“I don’t know.” I huff. “I don’t think I know you.”
His hands grasp my shoulder in a second. “You know me. You fucking know me, Annie.”
I will the tears that are forming in my eyes to stay in place, to not embarrass me now, but it’s no use, they begin to stream down my cheeks.
“I would never hurt you. I was trying to protect you.” He holds me in place. Holds me steady.
“How?”
“He was gambling again. He was drunk and belligerent. I had someone pick him up and put him in rehab.”
I met his eyes for the first time. “What?”
“I put him in rehab, Annie. I’m sorry, I knew it would upset you but he needs help.”
“No.”
“Annie-”
“No.” I push his hands off my shoulders. “He hates it there. I promised him I would never do that to him.”
My mind is spiraling. The last time I tried to force him into rehab he lost his mind on me. He made me promise I would never put him through that. The memory spins in my mind. He’s probably so angry at me. He probably feels so fucking betrayed.
“You didn't,” Gio sighs. “I did.”
“It doesn’t matter!” I shout back. “I said I wouldn’t do that to him again and you put him there! Without even talking to me. What makes you think you have the right?”
Gio looks me over, assessing the angry woman in front of him. “He needs help, Annie.”
“It wasn’t your place.”
A short laugh leaves his lips. “So it’s okay for me to bail him out of a hundred k debt, but when it comes to actually getting him help it’s not okay. Is that right?”
“You’re not-”
“No.” He waves a hand, silencing me. “I get it, babe. When I’m useful to you, it’s fine, but I’m not useful anymore, hmm?”
“Gio-”
“Let’s get back to business.” He dismisses me again. “You fucking work for me, or don’t you remember that? He stays in the rehab facility. Once this job is done I’ll have him released.” He stalks toward the door before turning back to me. “And answer my fucking calls.”
The door slams behind him.
I sink down to the floor, the panic rising inside me again settling next to my anger and my broken heart. All three are fighting for center stage.
This sucks.
The fire is about a mile from the Pearce Headquarters and the same distance from the police and fire station.
It’s a small fire, minimal damage and nobody will get hurt.
This is the best way to figure out the timing.
Charlie and I like to cover all the bases. Annie will turn off the alarm and open the door, but there's a chance that as soon as she enters the building she’ll trip a silent alarm. An alert will be sent to the police and then our asses are grass.
We need to know how much time we have, and this is the best way to do it.
We sit in Charlie’s car, a black GMC Acadia that’s less noticeable than my Porsche. Charlie’s eyes flicker between the fire and the stopwatch he holds. We sit in a parking lot up on a hill where we have a better view of the field below us where we had a low-level soldier set the fire.
“Lights
.” I point to flickering lights in the distance. I can see most of the cop car and a fire truck in the distance. “Almost there.”
We watch as the lights get closer and closer to the fire.
“And, time.” I announce.
Charlie clicks the stop button on the watch. “Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds.”
“That’s tight.” We would need to get in, open the safe, and get out in under seven minutes. Six, really, if we want to get ahead of the police.
“We can do it.” Charlie shifted the Acadia into drive, keeping the lights off until we’re back on the road.
I’m skeptical.
“Timer doesn’t start until Annie’s in, she opens the door, let’s say we have five minutes from there. Tony can open the safe with the burning bar in three minutes. I need three for the camera, but I can do that while Tony’s at the safe. Let’s say you and Annie have two minutes to collect any valuables and then get back to the safe, as soon as Tony opens it we fill the bags and then we get the hell out of there.”
“It should work, but it’s tight.”
“So we practice.” Charlie shrugs.
“What if we take Annie out of the mix?”
Charlie's face snaps to look at mine. “Seriously?”
“Just tell me, what do you think?”
“It cuts into our time.” Charlie sighs heavily. “We have to cut through the front door, we can but the alarm is going to go off as soon as I touch it, and it's going to take me one-two minutes to get in there. We just don’t have that time. Why would she not be there?”
I exhale. “So you’re saying we need her?”
Charlie inhales sharply. “Yeah, skip. I don’t see how we can do this without her.”
I drum my fingers against the panel of the car door. I’m annoyed, not at Charlie, more so at myself.
I let Annie in.
I know better. I know that there are no happy endings for men like me. I’ve seen time and time again that this life doesn’t bode well for women. They either stand by a man’s side and are hurt repeatedly, killed, or worse. Or, they’re a side piece that will never have a normal life.
Annie is neither of those things.
She is pure, innocent, perfect.
And now, I’m going to drag her down with me.
I want to do right by her, set her free, but she’s in too deep now. I need her, so she’s not going anywhere.
“Is she angry?” Charlie asks. “About her brother?”
“Something like that.” I mumble.
“She’ll get over it, skip.” Charlie is good for giving a positive outlook. While other men in our life would get angry, frustrated, and declare that doom is inevitable. Charlie will point out the rainbow in the distance.
He’s something else.
“She’ll see that it was the right thing to do. I mean, jeez, you kept her brother from getting beat down, or worse. Plus, I mean, they tried to rob you.”
I chuckle. Yeah, that’s what started this whole thing.
“I’m not so sure,” I tell him. “This might be too far for her. I don’t think she really realized what she was getting into.”
She was far too innocent. She asked silly questions, I could only imagine how much she doesn’t know about me, about my business.
This is why men in this world only marry Italian women. It’s easier that way, they know what they're getting into. Annie doesn’t have a clue.
I need to let her go.
Right after this job is done.
911, Dad’s house.
I have a code with my brother. Things go wrong, a lot. It comes with the territory of our business. So, we made a code. If anything is wrong with our family, it’s 911. It’s only to be used for family emergencies, not for business or la famiglia.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. I’m already in the Porsche when I see the text come through, if I take the next turn I should be at my dad’s house in a few minutes.
My heart races.
I made an oath to la famiglia to put my brothers before anyone else, including my true family. In my heart, deep down, I know my blood family, my father and my siblings, are the most important thing to me.
The engine purrs as I navigate the streets of Federal Hill to get to my father’s house. I push it above the speed limit, something I normally avoid, but today I need to get there fast.
When I pull into the semi-circle driveway of my father's house, the sight hits me like a ton of bricks.
Gian is in the driveway, on the ground. My dad is leaning over him, pressing down on his shoulder. My body is shaking, is my brother okay?
When I step out of the car, the sound hits me next. Gemma’s wailing is piercing. She’s wailing and repeating I’m sorry like a mantra. My eyes scan the scene to find her. My next shock is seeing her wrapped in the arms of a tall, muscular man with brown hair and a beard.
Liam fucking O’Connor.
My vision is blurred with red. The O’Connors, the Irish mafia is here, holding my sister.
“Let her go.” My gun is out and aimed at the man with his arms on my sister.
“No!” Gemma shouts. “Not him, it wasn’t him.”
I march closer to them. “I don’t give a fuck, move Gemma.”
Liam puts his arms up instinctively signaling he wasn’t about to hurt us. Gemma stands in front of his, her arms extended, pleading.
“What the fuck is happening?” I’m closer to them now, gun still aimed. Right now if I shoot it will go through Gemma into Liam, something I’m not willing to do. She needs to move. “Move Gemma.” I tell her again.
“Listen,” she pleads. “Put the gun down and we can talk.”
I don’t flinch. “What happened to Gian?” My eyes flicker momentarily to my brother, still bleeding in the driveway.
“He’s alive,” Dad answers. “But we need to get him to the hospital.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.” Liam finally speaks.
“Fuck you O’Connor.” I spit. “Why are you here?”
“They’re together.” My dad cuts in. “Leave it, for now, son. We need to get Gian out of here.”
My eyes move between my sister with that monster and my father on the ground with Gian. Begrudgingly, I tuck the gun into the back of my pants and run to dad and Gian.
“Lift him,” Dad orders. We carried him to my father's escalade, placing him carefully in the hatchback.
“What about her?” I look back at Gemma wrapped in the arms of the enemy.
“Leave her.” dad sighs. “For now.”
I raced to the hospital. Dad is in the back, hands pressed to Gian’s shoulder. “The bullet’s not close to the heart, I think.” he says to me and Gian, but mostly to himself. “Not close to the shoulder.” He adds. “You’re going to be fine, son. They’re gonna stitch you up and you’ll be fine.”
My father’s voice cracks.
We can’t handle another loss.
“They’ll ask questions.” Gian grunts, clearly in pain.
“Didn’t see nothing.” I shout from the front seat.
“Won’t stop ‘em.” He adds.
He’s probably right. A made man walking into the hospital with a bullet hole causes suspicion. The hospital is required to report it, so the police will arrive before Gian even gets out of surgery. This isn’t our first time.
We could have called Doc, a shady veterinarian who’s on our payroll, but he’s shit at gunshot wounds. The last man who was shot died from the fucking infection.
Not Gian, I’m not about to let him die.
“Why’d she bring him here, dad?”
“Not now,” he responds.
“He shot him?” I need to know. What the fuck happened?
“No,” He responds. “They got here right after. It was a hit, definitely one of his, but it seems like he was trying to warn us.”
“You believe that?” I huff.
“I don’t know what I believe.”
Yeah, neither do I.
T
here's blood on the sleeve of my white shirt. I dab at it uselessly, it’s not going anywhere. I knock on the door again, begging for Annue to answer. Then I dab at the blood again.
It’s like a ritual for me. Blood. Door. Blood. Door. Annie.
If I continue doing this it will keep all the feelings at bay. All of the turmoil going through my head. Everything threatening to break me won’t happen. As long as I keep with this ritual.
It makes no sense, but it’s all I have at this moment.
“Gio?” Her voice is angelic, even when her face clearly shows that she doesn’t want to see me. “Are you bleeding?”
I look down at the blood on my shirt. Is it mine? Is it Gian’s? Is it someone else's?
“Come inside.” She touched my arm, it feels electric. Even just the feelings of her hand on my shoulder as she leads me into her apartment and to the couch is soothing.
“Stay there,” she instructs. “I’ll get a washcloth.”
I obey. My head can’t come up with anything better to do even if I wanted to. She’s back in seconds, unbuttoning the shirt and checking for cuts.
“You’re okay.” She sounds relieved. Is she relieved? “Just a few scratches.” She wipes at the blood on me with a wet cloth.
“What happened?” The question comes out as a whisper.
I look at her now, her ocean blue eyes are filled with worry. She must’ve tied back her hair when she went to get the washcloth. She’s wearing short pink pajama shorts and an old East Providence high school t-shirt.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I need to bring myself back to reality, back to my body. When I open them, Annie is still here, Gian is in the hospital, and Gemma is god-knows-where.
“Someone shot my brother.”
Her face changes quickly showing me a panicked look. “Is he okay? Where is he?”
“Yeah,” I scrub a hand down my face. “He’s fine, he’s at the hospital getting stitched up. My dad is with him.”
“Okay.” She exhales a rush of air. “What happened?”
I meet her eyes again. “Do you really want to know?”
Her breath is sharp as she thinks it over. “Yes.” she finally answers, nearly a whisper.
I inhale deeply, I want to tell her the whole story. Everything that led to this that I’ve never told a soul. “Gemma met this guy in college, her senior year. Dude was a prick.” I rest my elbows on my knees and lean into my hands. “So she’s hanging out with him and then one night he slips something into her drink.”
Gio: The DelGado Trilogy (An Enemies to Lovers Romance) Page 12