by Rye Hart
“He comes from a family built on blood and violence. He saw it all the time as a child like you did. And that kind of things affects men differently than it does women,” Enrico said.
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.
Enrico sighed as his hand fell from my back.
“I want you to be okay, but I also want you to not let your past memories blind you. He sits in his father’s seat now. A man who raised him. It’ll be close to impossible for him to not fall back into what he knows.”
“I’m not like my father.”
“You also don’t sit in his seat,” Enrico said.
“Romeo isn’t like that. He can’t be like that,” I said.
“Why? Because you don’t want him to be? Because you want him to be the perfect father?”
“Don’t you bring Matteo into this.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking. You think that because you had a son with him that it’s supposed to make him a better man, but it doesn’t. Romeo doesn’t know Matteo. Only of his existence. You can’t expect a child to change—”
“Get out,” I said.
“Julia, listen.”
“Leave me the hell alone, Enrico.”
I watched him sigh dejectedly before he turned his back. He made his way to the door and opened it before he turned around. I could see the hurt in his eyes from my dismissal of him, but he wasn’t helping. I knew the truth. I knew, deep down, that this might not be possible.
But I also knew a different side of Romeo, a side I knew still existed behind the angry walls he kept up.
Enrico left the room, and I flopped down onto my bed. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t allow myself. I needed to be strong, and I needed to find a way to sort through my emotions before Matteo got up.
But one thing was certain.
I couldn’t trust myself to see Romeo again.
“Knock-knock.”
“What, Uncle?” I asked.
“I come bearing juice.”
I heard my bedroom door open as I sighed and sat up on my bed. My uncle padded across the room with two glasses of freshly-pressed juice in his hands. He sat down beside me and handed me one, and I drank it without taking my lips off the glass once. I was thirsty. Desperate to erase the taste of Romeo from my lips. The apple juice slid down my throat and trickled from the side of my mouth, and I felt Stefano brush it away.
Like my father used to do when I was younger.
“Would you like to tell me why Enrico looks like you slugged him in the stomach?” Stefano asked.
“Because he forgets his place sometimes,” I answered.
“You were always spunky like your father,” he said. “What’s going on? Did you meet with Romeo for coffee?”
“Yes. And it didn’t go well. Again.”
“Let me guess. Enrico tried to reason with you.”
“He did.”
“I need to tell that man that he can’t reason with a woman who’s upset.”
I shook my head as I twirled the empty glass in my fingers.
“There was an article in the newspaper,” I said.
“What kind of article?” Stefano asked.
“Three gun runners dead on the dock. Enrico told me he felt Romeo was behind it, but I didn't believe him.”
“Ah.”
“Did you know it was Romeo?” I asked.
I looked into my uncle’s eyes, and he sighed.
“I had a feeling. But I couldn’t be sure. I know there have been rumors about the Martine family wanting to seek out peace as well, but I also know there are people in their ranks that aren’t happy about it. At the very least, I figured Romeo might’ve tried to talk his way out of things, and his bodyguards got trigger-happy.”
“So there is a chance Romeo didn’t kill anyone,” I said, hating how pie-eyed and pathetic I sounded.
“I didn’t say that. Romeo still has control over those men. He does sit at the head of the family table now.”
“He wouldn't give me a straight answer. All he said was that he was trying to undo the knots his father had tied around the family’s neck or something like that. I don’t know.”
“He’s not wrong in that Julia,” Uncle Stefano said.“Malaphors,” he said.
“What?”
“Romeo uses malaphors.”
“What’s that?’
“Mixing metaphors. It’s called a ‘malaphor.’ Like when someone says ‘it’s not rocket surgery.’”
I furrowed my brow at my uncle, and he chuckled.
“You always know the most useless tidbits of knowledge, you know that?” I asked.
“I’m good at crossword puzzles,” he said as he raised his glass.
“I’m angry with him, Uncle. He promised me he wanted to bring peace to the families. Then two days later, he’s slaughtering men on the docks.”
“He did leave the guns behind.”
“For any number of reasons,” I said.
I watched my uncle nod, and I was hoping someone was finally stepping to my side of this thing.
“What if I told you that I thought I could talk some sense into him?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I know I can help steer Romeo down a better course. Right the ship that seems to be taking on water from many sides he doesn’t even see. Mutiny’s looming over his shoulder, and if he wants to dig his family out from their self-made shadows, he’s going to be facing a lot of trials.”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking.”
“I believe the whispers, that the Martine family is looking for peace like I am. But peace doesn't always come without war. There will be people on both sides who don’t want that, who want things to remain the way they were. They will choose to stay in the past instead of leaping into the future. I can tell you this won’t be the last time something like this happens.”
“But he promised,” I said breathlessly.
“A man’s promise is always his bond, but that doesn't mean its execution happens the way a woman wants, Julia. If you can talk with him and plant the seed of having a meeting with me, I can help. Romeo and I can tackle the issues—”
“No,” I said.
My uncle’s eyes hardened on the side of my face as I bowed my head.
“I won’t see him again,” I said.
“You have to trust me, Julia. If meeting with you is doing this much harm, then I can step in and try. But I can’t simply approach him. The opposition would view it as a hostile act. He has to reach out to me, and that means you need to plant a seed.”
“Why can’t you reach out to him?” I asked.
“Because there are circumstances surrounding your father’s death that would make my phone call seem like a set up for retaliation.”
I slowly panned my gaze up to my uncle’s eyes.
“My father’s death?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You said he died in a car accident.”
“He did.”
“Then why would you talking with the Martine—”
I scurried off the bed as my heart rate began to accelerate. I felt that apple juice creeping up the back of my throat.
“Are you telling me?”
“We have no proof, Julia. Only whispers. The coroner we hired to do the autopsy said your father died instantly in that car accident. And that the driver was drunk.”
“But you don’t believe him,” I said.
“I have my doubts. There are whispers in the Martine family that we lashed out at Romeo’s father and killed him in retaliation for the supposed death of your father.”
I put my head in my hands as tears crept up the backs of my eyes.
“When will it stop?” I asked.
My back fell against the wall. I slid down to my ass in exasperation.
I felt my Uncle sit down next to me before his hand settled on my knee.
“You have to see the bigger picture here, Julia. You have a son to take into ac
count and a very serious task ahead of you. I can’t do this without you. I need you to cooperate with me and not allow your emotions to get the best of you.”
I dropped my hands from my face and scooted away from his grasp.
“You won’t bully me into this,” I said. “I’m not ever standing in the same room with that man again.”
“Listen,” he said, finally losing his patience. “Your father’s death affected all of us. We’re all grieving. We’re all hurting. Even after two years of him being gone. But this is a chance he never got. A chance to stop the bloodshed the last fifteen years has brought. And you owe it to him to try. You owe it to that little boy of yours to try.”
My eyes hardened on my uncle as I scrambled to my feet. I watched him get up and tower over me. Looming. Like my father used to do whenever I’d stepped out of line.
“Eventually, Romeo is going to come for his son. And if you burn bridges because of your stubbornness, you're going to lose him. You don’t stand a chance against the forces Romeo has at his disposal.”
“Are you saying you won’t defend your only nephew if I piss you off?” I asked.
“I’m saying you were born into a circumstance you got away from once. Your father dragged you away, but you came back. And you came back for a reason. I believe that reason was to unite your family. To see if Romeo could be the father you know Matteo needs in his life. And if you’re not willing to fight for that, then you don’t deserve the man you’re searching for.”
“You’re trying to manipulate me, and it won’t work,” I said. “That was a dirty tactic my father used on me many times, and you won’t get away with it.”
I took a step toward my uncle, and he backed down. He settled onto the balls of his feet and rolled his shoulders back. His facial features softened, and he cleared his throat, smoothing his hands over his chest.
“You have your father’s strength,” my uncle said. “That steely resolve that can quiet a room. But it would do you well to think about what I’ve said.”
Instead of answering, I lifted my chin in defiance and stared my uncle down. “Being a stubborn woman won’t get you what you seek, Julia. If you don’t want peace and if you don’t want Romeo, then leave. Take Enrico, and your son, and head back upstate. Live your life as you see fit.I’ll makes sure no one will come after you. But if you stay, I will assume you want to help. Which means you’ll have to stop fighting and start cooperating.”
I clenched my fists at my sides as Stefano made his way to the door. He closed it behind him, and I could hear Matteo rustling around in his bed. He was getting up from his nap, and he would surely want to go do something fun. It sounded good because I didn’t want to be in the house any longer.
I wasn’t going to allow a killer to be in my son’s life. I wasn’t going to allow him to know a father who was a ruthless and cold-hearted criminal. None of it sounded like Romeo, but all of the evidence pointed to the contrary. I’d give Stefano the benefit of the doubt and think about things, but it wouldn't likely change my mind.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go back upstate.
The farther away from Romeo I could get, the better.
CHAPTER 13
ROMEO
I jerked awake and looked at the clock. Just before three in the morning. I couldn't remember my dream, but the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. My entire body was poised to fight, and I didn't know why.
Until I heard it.
Someone was moving around the house.
I sat there and listened to the movements. The heavy footfalls and the boots sticking to the floor. I listened to see if I could figure out how many there were, but I only heard one pair of feet. One lone man in the house, and I knew from the sounds that it wasn’t my brother. How they got in without triggering the alarm system was beyond me, so I had to assume there were at least two of them. One in the house and one of them monitoring the outside. Ready to move in case anything spun out of control.
Like me.
I slid from my bed and grabbed my gun from my bedside table. I slipped the full magazine into itand held it tightly in my hands. My mother was just down the hallway from me, and my brother was head-deep in his night shift with the familyworking. And no one dared to come over at such hours without calling me on my phone first. No, this was an intentional break-in. Whoever was in my fucking home was gunning for something. Looking for trouble. And I was going to give them what they came for.
I opened my door quietly and cleared the corners, then went to peek my head in on my mother. If someone was in that room with her, they would be the first to die. I kept my steps as quiet as I could, holding my breath as I cleared each corner. I pushed open each door upstairs leading all the way to the room my father and her shared when he was still alive. I reached for her doorknob and silently opened her door, then thrust my gun out in front of me and readied myself to shoot.
But she was fast asleep and didn’t seem to be disturbed by what was going on.
I went into her closet and looked around before charging into her bathroom. Once I knew no one was in the room with her, I went and locked all of her windows. I don’t know why in the hell she slept with them unlocked, but tonight she wouldn’t. I went over and locked her bathroom window, then locked her bedroom door from the inside before shutting it.
I knew she had a gun underneath her pillow. She’d have enough time to grab it if someone broke through the door.
As I made my way downstairs, the rustling grew closer. I cocked my gun and felt my way around the wall, feeling for the light switch. My steps were silent, even though I towered over most people. It was one of the first things my father ever taught me how to do. Walk with purpose and silence. Never announce your presence until you mean to. It was a lesson that had stuck with me throughout my years, and I was suddenly glad for his training.
It would allow me to keep my promise of protecting Mom.
It was dead silent, and I knew whoever was in the house had heard me cock my gun, but I was ready for them. No one had a right to come into my home and startle me awake. To frighten my mother in any way. My fingers reached around for the light switch so I could illuminate the room around us, but I moved too slowly.
Before I could flip on the light, something hit me in the back of the head. A searing, blinding pain shot through my forehead and tunneled my vision. I stumbled forward and hit the ground, watching as my gun slid from my hand. Sliding away from me and out of reach as I tried to catch my breath.
It was hard to breathe, and my gun spun into the darkness of the room.
I rolled out of the way, less than a second to react. Instincts were taking over as my body tried to deal with the pain. Tried to work through it and overcome it to keep my body stable. Something heavy and thick hammered into the marble tile floors. My eyes widened. I kicked out with my feet and caught the intruder in the stomach, listening as he stumbled back and groaned in pain.
He fell toward the stairs, and I was on my feet in an instant. I stumbled over to the man lying against the stairs and grabbed his shirt. I delivered a punch to the man’s jaw and heard it dislocate. I delivered another blow before I yanked him off the stairs, holding him in midair. I pulled his bloodied face to mine and looked into his unwavering stare.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you made a big mistake tonight.”
I grabbed the mask over his face, but I couldn't get it off before I was hit again from behind, like the fucking cowards they were. They couldn't even look me in the face and fight because they knew they had a disadvantage. They knew I’d tear them limb from limb. But the pain shooting through my body blackened my vision and I could feel blood dripping down my neck.
I stumbled to the side and fell onto my back, my blurry vision staring up at the ceiling.
I saw the darkness creeping from the corners of my eyes. I was choking on blood as my hands began to shake. Nausea was rolling my stomach. I tried to get up, but ever
y move I made sent painful jolts of fire surging down to my toes.
“What should we do with him?” one man said.
“We should kill him,” the other man slurred.
“But that wasn’t our command. The boss doesn’t want him dead yet.”
“Fuck the boss. If this little bitch is out of our way, he’ll give us a fucking medal.”
“We follow orders. Until boss wants him dead. Then, maybe we have a bit of fun.”
“Well, we got what we came for. We need to get out before someone finds us.”
The masked men were standing over me, and I was helpless to rip their heads off. The darkness was all-consuming. I could feel my body shaking with pain. Blood was dribbling down the side of my cheek. My head felt like it was splitting in two. I could feel blood drying on the back of my neck as the two men left.
I drew in one last breath as I watched them leave before the darkness took me under, relieving me of the pain I felt and thrusting me into another world.
A world where Julia was in my arms, pregnant with my child, while Matteo cuddled into my chest.
CHAPTER 14
JULIA
I sat at the table and ate my cereal as I stared out into the backyard. Getting out into town with Matteo the other day had done me a lot of good. We went shopping for the next book he wanted to read and got dinner in town. Pizza was his favorite, and I smiled as he stuffed himself full of it. The innocent glow in his eyes and the unabashed love he had for the food reminded me of why I was doing all this. Matteo deserved a family. He didn’t deserve to be cooped up in an estate in the middle of nowhere up north. Enrico was the only sort of father-figure he knew, and even then it wasn’t enough. I wanted Matteo to know his father. His uncle. His cousins. I wanted them to all be a part of his life. It was what my father would’ve wanted.
But peace had to happen first.
And whatever I could do to make that happen for my son was what I would do.
I took another bite of my cereal before my phone buzzed. I had a text message from my uncle. I furrowed my brow and unlocked my phone when I saw the “urgent” signal in the right-hand corner of the message.