A woman like Calla was all good, all sunshine and light. I lived my life in the shadows where I belonged. But somehow it felt like my shadows changed when I first set eyes on her the day before. Like my shadows became her shadows. Like I was meant to follow her light anywhere.
It didn't matter that she spent most of her time in yoga pants and with her hair in a ponytail, looking more and more exhausted with every hour that passed. Something about those big, shining dark blue eyes called to me.
But I kept my distance. If her husband Chad could prove himself to Matteo, he'd be useful.
Very useful.
It wasn't every day that a Police Lieutenant wanted to join the Bellandi payroll.
So I watched her, made sure that she wasn't meeting with anyone on her husband's behalf. Even though I knew from that first day I followed her that the only crooked thing she had going was her smile.
She walked along through the park, pushing her two-year-old son Axel in the stroller and trying to will him to stay asleep. She did it more and more lately, as if the baby just never slept. Never gave her a moment's peace. Judging from the look on her face and the way she snuggled with him on the couch all night, I suspected it might be true.
The stroller veered to the side suddenly, something shifting, so it tilted to the side. She tried to put it right, but it woke Axel anyway. She groaned, dropping her head for a moment before she bent down to inspect the wheel. I couldn't see from my place what had happened, but the way Calla buried her face in her hands and took out her phone was enough of a sign. She typed a number in, putting it to her ear as she reached down and grabbed her son from the stroller.
She bounced him rhythmically while she spoke to whoever she'd called for help; her face looking more and more harried with every second. When she finally hung up, she turned a smile to her son and shushed him before she spoke to him.
With every second that she waited, her body slumped more and more. The weight of her two-year-old was exhausting her, and I could practically see the way her back pained her when she tried to straighten out.
At 5'3", she was far too small to be holding Axel for long periods of time like that. But she did it anyway, never even trying to set him down as he snuggled into her side desperately.
With a muttered, "fuck," I knew I couldn't watch her suffer. Knew in that moment I'd do anything to make her life just a little easier. It would end badly, there was no way getting up in her face and talking to her would end well for me.
But I did it anyway.
I stepped out of my shadows, making myself visible as I walked along the path more noticeably. "Excuse me," I said, and even to me my voice sounded rough. I didn't talk much, avoided it when I could, but particularly when I was on a hunt or doing surveillance, I could go days without ever speaking a word.
I tried not to wince, tried to give her the friendliest smile I could manage. But I wasn't friendly. I didn't know how to be. I'd lost everything that had made me human a long time ago.
I cleared my throat. "Do you need some help?"
She spun around, fixating that deep blue gaze on me so suddenly it was like a punch to the gut. My world spun, narrowing down on the flush that spread over her pretty cheeks and the way her pursed little mouth tipped into a blinding, ever-so-slightly crooked smile.
"You don't mind?" she asked, but her body sagged with relief.
"Let me take a look," I agreed, going to the stroller and squatting down. I could feel her eyes on me, feel the way she watched me. I didn't imagine Calla saw many men like me in her sheltered life.
It should stay that way.
"Thank you so much for this," she sighed. "My husband is on his way, but it can be hard for him to get away from work," she explained. I resisted the urge to laugh at her attempt to let me know she was married. Under normal circumstances, it would have been smart. Dissuading interest early on could benefit her, but she should have known that a man like me could take whatever he wanted. Married or not.
"It's no problem. Your boy looks like he's having a rough go of it," I grunted, finding the part where the tire had come off the rim.
"He's teething," she responded. "These teeth will be the death of me. He's usually an easy boy, but something about these has him miserable." She wiggled her nose on his, making him squeal with laughter even as he clung to her. "Don't they, cookie monster?" she asked him.
I snapped the tire back onto the rim, feeling grateful that it had been something so simple. The sound of her laughing in response to her boy's joy, that was something I couldn't handle. Not if I wanted to have any chance of leaving her alone.
I straightened, and the position put me closer to her than I wanted to be. Axel reached out his arms, straining toward me while Calla tried to contain him. "I'm so sorry," she laughed. "He isn't usually so friendly."
A boy after my own heart.
I held out my hands, lifting him under the armpits and out of Calla's arms. She looked panicked for a brief second, but then relief crossed her face as the weight left her back. I stared at the little boy in my arms, dark hair he'd inherited from his father but his mother's blue eyes shone back in his face. His little hand reached up, touching the scar through my eyebrow in confusion before he laughed and punched my nose.
"Axel!" Calla scolded.
"He's alright," I said, hearing a smile in my voice for the first time in as long as I could remember.
A beautiful woman in front of me, a boy who somehow looked a lot like me in my arms. It was everything I'd wanted once upon a time, before it had all been taken from me.
When Axel lost interest in using me as a punching bag, Calla took him back and settled him into the seat of the stroller.
Once she’d gotten him buckled, she turned her attention back to me, smiling happily. "Thank you again. So much. Can I give you some money or-"
"You've already given me more than you know," I whispered, reaching out a hand to her face. "Have a good life, tesoro."
My hand cupped her cheek as she stared up at me in confusion. I knew I could never speak to her again, never touch her, but I knew I'd never be able to walk away from her.
The moment my thumb touched her high cheekbones, something in me shifted.
I was found.
✽✽✽
Calla
One year ago
Dead.
My husband was dead.
The man across the table stared back at me, pity and sympathy in his eyes.
I hated it. I hated that I'd gone from having everything I could ever dream of, to being the woman people pitied.
Leaving Axel and Ines with my dad even for an afternoon had been brutal, the way they clung to me desperately. Afraid that I wouldn't come home. A six and a two-year-old had no business knowing what that kind of pain felt like.
They were too young to understand. Too young to know their father had been gunned down on the street, working to keep people safe. Protecting us all. "Your late husband arranged for a considerable trust for you and the kids, should the day come when he could no longer provide for you. Your benefactor will use it to make payments into your account monthly, and it will be enough for the three of you to live the way you've become accustomed to for at least one year."
"I-I don't understand," I mumbled, wiping my nose with the tissue in my hand. It felt like I never stopped crying lately, even the knowledge that Chad had gone even more out of his way to see us taken care of after his death sending me over the edge. "Where did he get that kind of money?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss it, Mrs. Latour." He smiled at me, his face kind even in the face of my confusion. "But in the meantime, I hope it helps to ease the financial burden you're facing after his death. You can continue to stay home with your children during this time of transition, content knowing that you'll have money to pay your mortgage and put food on the table. Your benefactor is aware of all your bills and expenses, and he'll send you money accordingly."
"My benefactor. Did he know Chad?"
I asked, wringing my hands together.
"Yes. He knew your late husband very well and promised he would see you taken care of."
I nodded, but my eyes darted up into the camera briefly. The same feeling of warmth slid down my spine, the same way it had for years. I felt eyes on me so often it became my new normal. I knew something about this situation was strange, unusual, but the signature on the paperwork in front of me was my husband's. An exact copy of his scrawl I'd spent too much time telling him he needed to make legible.
"If he knew Chad so well, why didn't he meet with me himself? I don't understand why he wouldn't want to see me. I'd like to thank him," I said, holding my head high as I stared at the man in front of me.
He smiled, and something about him seemed so familiar. Like I'd seen him before in passing, but I couldn't place him. His brown eyes were warm on mine, his salt and pepper hair short and well-styled. He wore a fitted suit over his lean frame, and the style of it was refined. Expensive.
"He would like to remain anonymous for the time being, but I can promise you he only has your best interest at heart. There will come a time when it is more appropriate that the two of you meet, but for now the important thing is for you to take the time you need to heal. To grieve your loss, Mrs. Latour. I wish you the best of luck in what will undoubtedly be a difficult road."
He stood from the table in the office where we met, the elegant deep wood of the table seeming far too elegant for the industrial quality that the building held. The building was under construction, a luxury apartment building with renovations going on in the upper floors. The bottom level seemed to be most complete, and we met in the front office where I imagined a building manager might make himself at home.
But nobody occupied the office just yet, though it was set up to be luxurious and professional for when the time came. I stood after him, taking his hand for a shake. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lombardi," I said, swallowing down the threat of tears. He'd shown me kindness when he didn't need to, understanding how uncertain I must feel in the circumstances.
"Please call me Don. The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Latour. I hope that the next time we meet is under more happy circumstances." I nodded, even if I felt confusion over why we would meet again.
I didn't understand what happened to my picture perfect life.
I stared into the camera before I left the office, unable to stop the way my skin tingled in that too familiar way. I could practically feel the person sitting on the other side of the screen.
Watching. Waiting.
Always.
Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2) Page 35