Warning [Part Three]

by A. D. Justice

The three of us looked at each other, our eyes darting back and forth in surprise, when we heard the next voice.

  “That was Lorenzo.” Jillian walked into the kitchen ahead of Marco and me.

  Just before I entered the room, I heard my father. “Carrie, you know I can’t allow this. That’s my final decision.”

  He stood to leave the table, his last words effectively ending their conversation. He took one look at me and froze in his tracks. “Damon, you look even worse than I heard. You need to rest—right now. The home health care nurse is already here and waiting for you upstairs. We gave her one of the guest bedrooms to stay in.”

  “Dad, there’s a lot we need to discuss…there’s something the three of us need to tell you.”

  “Damon, I know you’re dedicated. But you have to take care of yourself right now. Marco can fill me in on everything while you rest. You and I will talk after you’ve recovered. Jillian looks dead on her feet—that’s not good for her or the babies.”

  “Don’t worry, little brother. I’ve got your back. Take Jillian to bed with you, or I’ll be tempted to steal her away while you sleep.” Marco winked at Jillian, and she giggled at his overt flirting.

  “You know, I’ve killed men for less than that, Marco.”

  “You boys,” Mama started. “Always picking on each other. It’s good to see some things never change. Now, Damon and Jillian—off to bed, you two. Marco, you sit down in the den with your father and behave yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Marco and I replied at the same time.

  The nurse, Michelle, was waiting for me just as Dad said, but I convinced her to give me a few more minutes to bathe before she started her assessment. When I finished, Jillian jumped in the shower while Michelle thoroughly chastised me for my complete lack of self-preservation. By the time Jillian crawled into bed with me, Michelle had finished the paperwork and started a saline IV in my arm.

  The medication Michelle injected into my IV hit my vein, and all the pain in my body melted away. Jillian’s warm body was snuggled up to my side, her arm draped across my stomach and her cheek rested on my shoulder. My eyelids became too heavy to hold open. I vaguely remembered hearing her soft, rhythmic breathing before the deepest sleep I’d ever had pulled me under and wiped away all my cares.

  Until I woke up.

  Darkness had already settled in, making the bedroom pitch black with the curtains drawn. I reached for Jillian, but she wasn’t there, only her cold, empty side of the bed. Concern and confusion propelled me from my slumbering position, making every muscle in my body revolt from the sudden movement. From how stiff I felt, I must have slept all day and into the night. If it was even still the same day, that was.

  After I sat up on the side of the bed, I turned on the lamp and waited for my eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. My eyes traced the IV tubing through the machine and up to the nearly full bag hanging beside my bed. Michelle must have changed it recently, and I must have slept straight through everything. After I pulled on my lounge pants, I stood, removed the bag from the pole, and made my way downstairs.

  A very serious conversation was underway, so I stopped outside of the den to listen before making my presence known.

  “Jillian, for the first time since I became the Boss of the Marchetti family, I don’t know what I should do. Our law says Leo’s betrayal couldn’t go unpunished, and the only punishment we have for betrayal is death. I know this in my head. But in my heart, he’s still my brother, so his death isn’t an easy pill to swallow. The problem I’m facing, Jillian, is Leo had earned his place in our world. He was a made man. You understand what this term means?”

  “Yes. It means he’d proven his worth and was protected by the family. He was untouchable.”

  “That’s exactly right. A made man is only punished by another made man. As the Underboss of this family, Leo would’ve been punished by me and no one else. But that’s not what happened, and my men may already know. How do you think that makes me look?”

  “I understand your concern. But before I answer your question, I have to ask you a couple.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Lina?”

  The pause in the conversation meant Dad was caught off guard by Jillian’s question. That didn’t happen with my father—except when Jillian was involved. She seemed to have that effect on the Marchetti men.

  “No, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She is the best person I know, and I love her more every day.”

  “If Leo had killed Lina, would you have spared his life?”

  “No. I wouldn’t have thought twice about killing him. I would’ve watched the light leave his eyes without a single regret.” Dad usually reserved that gruff tone for the rare occasions he had to repeat himself to one of his men.

  “My mother was the best person I knew, and I loved her more every day of my life. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for her. Leo taunted us when he described his plan to kill Damon and me. He couldn’t wait to kill you and Lina to take your place. He took great pleasure in describing how he murdered my disabled mother in cold blood.

  “So, I didn’t think twice about killing him. I watched the light leave his eyes without a single regret for what I’d done. If I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Now I’ll answer your question. If avenging my mother by killing the man who had an elaborate plan to overthrow you and kill your wife and your son means I can’t be part of the family, then I think that makes you look weak.”

  “Weak? How does that make me look weak?”

  “Because you’re allowing lower-level men to dictate how you run your family. Because you reward tradition over loyalty. Because you don’t have the courage to make your own rules when you know the archaic ones need to be changed. If you’re so worried about your treacherous Underboss being killed by someone who isn’t made, you can fix that by changing my status in the family. Induct me.”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely not.” My deep voice carried through the den, startling Jillian and Dad with my abrupt intrusion. “That is not happening. We are not making her a capo.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jillian

  “It’s time for you and the rest of the men in this family to join us in this century, Damon. Women can do more than stay home barefoot and pregnant. Haven’t Carrie and I proved to you we are more than capable of contributing by now?”

  “That’s not what I meant, Jillian. At all. We all recognize how smart and strong-minded you are. You became part of this family even before you knew what that meant. But there are a few important decisions you and I need to talk about first, and we haven’t had the time. We have some things to figure out together before you make this kind of commitment.”

  I weighed his words and his request against what Vincenzo and I were talking about—in a nutshell, whether I could ever truly be part of the family. Could Damon and I be together if I was never taken seriously in the family? Would I always feel uncomfortable around everyone else, knowing they thought less of me? My heart and mind agreed on the issue, but maybe Damon had other ideas I hadn’t thought of yet. Then again, maybe he didn’t realize what was truly at stake.

  “All right, Damon. I’m willing to hear you out. But this conversation isn’t over.”

  “For now, the conversation is over, cara. I’ve heard some of the newer families have women capos, but our family doesn’t—and won’t as long as I’m the Boss. None of my men want to see their women in the line of fire.” Vincenzo rose, intending to have the last word.

  “But their women are in the line of fire, whether the men want to see it or not. Look at Carrie and me, what we’ve been through. Do you honestly think your enemies care if we have a rank in your army? Do you think that’ll stop them from killing us if our death furthers their cause? Time
s have changed, Vincenzo, but you haven’t kept up.”

  He stopped in his tracks when my words sank in, making him consider possibilities he’d never entertained before. The odds were not in his favor in that equation.

  Damon eased onto the couch beside me and laid his IV bag on the backrest as his dad left the room. I watched Damon try to get comfortable, but he couldn’t find a suitable position. He was hurt worse than he showed the others. Probably more than he even realized while his adrenaline was freely flowing through his veins. After he’d had time to slow down then sleep, his injuries started catching up with him.

  “Here, lie back.” After I helped him turn, I leaned forward, pressed against him, and helped support his weight as he leaned backward. With his back against my chest, he settled between my legs, and I wrapped my arms around him. “How’s that?”

  “Perfect. I’m not too heavy on you and the babies, am I?”

  “No, my love. Most of your weight is on my chest, not my stomach, but you’re fine. Don’t worry about us.”

  “I have no idea how long I’ve already slept, but I’m sure I could take another long nap right here.”

  “You slept for about fourteen hours, Damon. I’d say your body needed the downtime to start repairing itself. You should’ve stayed in the hospital.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe I just needed you in the bed with me to feel better. For the record, I’ll always vote for the latter.”

  “What did you want to talk about? I don’t like cliffhangers, so let’s hear it now.”

  Perfect timing, as usual, Mama Lina came rushing into the room.

  “Damon, I know this isn’t the best time, but you’ve been asleep all day, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to you.” Mama Lina patted his cheek.

  “Now’s fine, Mama. What’s on your mind?”

  “Jillian and I made funeral arrangements for Benny. Visitation is tomorrow afternoon, and his funeral is the next day. Maybe I should ask to postpone it a day or two until you’re better.”

  “No, don’t do that. I’m well enough to sit in the funeral home for a few hours. Thank you both for doing that for Benny.”

  “Of course. He was part of our family. It’s getting late, so Vin and I are going to bed now. But you two need to eat all of this food now.”

  She put a tray with two plates piled with enough food for the whole family, two tall glasses, and a pitcher of iced tea on the coffee table beside us.

  “My kids need to eat. You haven’t eaten all day because you’ve been asleep the whole time. I made your plates, but there’s plenty more where that came from if this isn’t enough. Now, eat, eat!”

  Funny thing, I didn’t even realize I was hungry until the delicious aromas hit me, causing me to salivate uncontrollably. Pavlovian conditioning at its best—Italian-food style.

  Damon’s low grumble vibrated through his chest, groaning because he’d only settled against me moments before. Plates of heaping mounds of food meant he had to move again for both of us to eat. He started to sit up, but I tightened my grip on him and held him in place instead.

  “Wait. I have an idea,” I said to Damon. “Mama Lina, give me one of the plates and leave the other one on the coffee table. I’ll feed us both off one plate at a time so Damon doesn’t have to get up again.”

  A small smile played on her lips. Her expression, combined with the way she stole glances at our intimate but comfortable embrace, wordlessly conveyed how pleased she was with my idea.

  “Good night, kids.”

  “Good night, Mama,” we replied at the same time.

  She started to leave but stopped to watch our joint feeding plan in action. With the plate in Damon’s good hand and the fork in mine, I cut a hefty helping of stuffed shells with marinara sauce and offered the first bite to Damon. Only…I was behind him, leaning around his side to find his mouth…and I missed.

  When I saw the long red streak of marinara sauce across his cheek, I started laughing and couldn’t stop. The harder I tried to hide it, the funnier it became, until we were both shaking because of my giggles. Mama Lina drew her lips between her teeth, trying to control her mirth while I took the plate from his hand and she passed Damon a napkin.

  His exaggerated wipes along his cheek while trying to clean off his face only made my laughter worse. His whole body was relaxed, not a single tensed muscle, as he tried to clean off the sauce that only smeared across his skin. My imagination ran wild as I pictured his expression while he also tried to hide his laughter.

  “You did that on purpose.” His tone was calm and casual, but I didn’t miss the hint of playfulness. Or that he waited for his mom to leave the room first.

  “No, I didn’t, Damon.” He probably couldn’t even understand my broken words spoken through my continued fit of laughter.

  “You’d deny it either way, doll. You’re not fooling me. So just remember this moment and how you took advantage of me in my weakened condition. Remember how you laughed and picked on me when I’m virtually helpless and starving. I only have one good hand. I look like I went head-to-head with Iron Man. Not to mention, I still have an IV stuck in my arm. But that’s all right, you go right ahead and have your fun.”

  I couldn’t stop laughing throughout his entire mock tirade. Even though it was an accident, I wouldn’t have changed it for anything. We needed a reminder that we’d laugh and be carefree again. That we had more to look forward to than a lifetime of fighting the world and seeing our loved ones die.

  That we could choose to be normal, or at least, our version of it.

  “Here, open your mouth and take this bite of food before it gets cold. You can’t falsely accuse me anymore if your mouth is full.” I successfully found his mouth that time.

  “I can still talk.” He made a point to prove me wrong, even if his words were muffled. “And, for the record, it’s still warm. Had I gotten to eat it instead of having it smeared across my face, it would’ve been hot instead of warm. You gave me a hot marinara sauce facial.”

  “I’m cutting off a bigger bite for you next time. Big, hot, and delicious. Stuffing it right in your mouth.” I sliced through the shell, making sure to coat my piece with extra sauce, and brought the fork to my mouth.

  “I’ve got something big, hot, and delicious I’d like to stuff in your mouth right now.”

  A huge drop of sauce slid down the shell…and onto Damon’s bare shoulder. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen in slow motion. With the plate in one hand and a fork in the other, there was no way for me to catch it midair. Damon’s yelp of pain when the hot sauce landed on his shoulder probably should’ve made me feel bad for not being more careful.

  But I burst out laughing again instead.

  “Talk about adding insult to injury.” He shook his head. “Want to grab some salt and just pour it directly into my wounds next?”

  “You’re such a baby.” I lowered my mouth to his shoulder and licked the sauce off his skin. Taking my time, I lapped up every trace of it, noting the change in his breathing, the tensing of his muscles, and the low growl from his throat. “I licked it all up. It tastes too good to waste a single drop.”

  “Now I know you’re trying to kill me. Count your blessings I’m not able to spank your ass right now.”

  “You never told me you were into that. Have you been holding out on me, Marchetti? I feel so betrayed right now. Maybe I should talk to Marco about this…get his opinion.”

  He turned his head to the side enough for me to see his arched eyebrow and the warning in his eyes. When he opened his mouth to counter, I quickly pushed another bite of food between his lips. He chuckled, knowing I was only teasing him, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Getting lost in him was so easy—too easy. He didn’t know, but just being by his side helped me focus on the wo
nderful things in our life and forget about the terrible things. Or, at least, push them out of my mind for longer stretches of time.

  He was a ruthless killer; I knew that. I justified his actions by separating the man from the job, since his targets weren’t innocent bystanders by any means. But the lethal mafia capo was so far removed from the playful, affectionate man I loved, that most of the time I had a hard time seeing him as both. The man who I knew showered me with all his love, made me feel protected, desired, and fearless.

  To my surprise, we finished every bite on both plates while talking, sharing memories, and laughing together. He held the plate in his good hand while I fed us. After he put the second empty plate on the coffee table, he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position.

  “Are you ready to go back to bed with me?”

  “That depends. Are you going to be good in bed?”

  “You and I both know I’m always good in bed.”

  “Let me rephrase that. Are you going to behave?”

  “I have no plans to behave anywhere, least of all in bed with you.”

  “Marchetti, you are incorrigible.”

  “Take me upstairs, and I’ll let you attempt to fix that. For you, maybe I’m corrigible and can be fully redeemed.”

  “I’m almost positive you’re beyond the point of redemption by now, but I’m happy to give it my best shot.”

  He waggled his eyebrows, his gaze instantly changing to that sexy but lethal stare that slayed me every time. The hooded eyes. The unintentional swipe of his tongue across his lips when he looked at me, like I was his next meal he couldn’t wait to taste.

  My intention, however, was to have him for dessert.

  When we woke the next morning, I felt more rested than I had in months. Damon did too, because he called the nurse into the bedroom almost immediately to remove his IV. She protested at first but ultimately gave in to his demands. His main argument was directly related to Benny’s funeral. Damon refused to carry a saline bag around in front of his men and anyone else who could be watching. Sickness was a sign of weakness, a trait that wasn’t in his DNA, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to question it. He compromised by agreeing to drink extra water throughout the day and stay off his feet as much as possible.