Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2)

by J. M. Darhower

  Dante turned to Gavin. "Just tell me."

  "Your sister," Gavin said.

  Silence.

  "My sister," Dante repeated. "That's it? That's what you have to tell me?"

  "Yes," Gavin said. "Well, no. Your sister… she, well…"

  "Christ, Gavin, spit it out."

  "She wasn't in the car that night. When it exploded. Your sister wasn't inside of it."

  Dante stared at him. "You think I don't know that?"

  "What?"

  "I'm not an idiot, Gavin. I graduated high school. I took a fucking science class. There would've been something left if they would've been inside. There were no bodies in that car. I know."

  "What?"

  "Besides, the car had a remote starter. Bert said he wired it to go off exactly like the one that killed Joey. My father insisted. So it would've been triggered as soon as he hit the button."

  "I, uh… what?"

  Dante sighed exasperatedly, running his hands down his face. "Say what one more time, Gavin. One more fucking time."

  "I'm sorry, I'm just… why didn't you say anything?"

  "What's there to say? She wasn't in the car, but she isn't here, either. Something has kept her away, and that something probably means I'll never see her again… not in this life, anyway. And no offense, because you're not a bad guy, as far as guys go, but I'm not really down with the bearing my soul to another fucking man thing."

  Dante walked back into the house, done with that conversation, but Gavin's voice caught him, trailing him, not letting go. "I know."

  "Know what, Amaro?"

  "Where she is."

  Dante skidded to a stop and swung around. "You know where she is?"

  Hesitantly, Gavin nodded. "Or, well, I knew where she was. They're not there anymore."

  "They?"

  "Her… Matty… the baby…"

  Dante's blood ran cold. "The baby?"

  "Yeah, I mean, she hasn't had the baby yet. She's still pregnant. Or she was, last time I saw her."

  "Whoa… you saw her? You've seen her?"

  Gavin nodded again.

  "Alive?"

  Another nod.

  "You're telling me my sister is alive, and not only did you know, but you knew exactly where to find her?"

  One more nod.

  Dante's calm slipped, something inside of him breaking. The emotion he'd been holding back, forcing down, came flooding through the cracks. His vision blurred. His hands shook. The second a tear slipped down his cheek, he swung.

  CRACK

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The first time Gabriella laid eyes on Dante, lying comatose in the hospital bed, she had a thought: for someone with such a big reputation, he seemed so small. People spoke of him like he was larger than life, but there he was, this fragile human, with a broken body and a shattered soul, desperately needing to be healed.

  It took days before he smiled, weeks before he laughed, months before he loved, but once he did, she believed there was no stopping him again. He'd grown ten feet and his skin became steel, and the fragmented boy seemed almost whole, turning superhuman. He risked his life, moving fast as a speeding bullet, running into burning buildings and standing up for people. Small, he wasn't… larger than life had been right.

  But still, the underlying sadness remained, never going away, buried down inside of him. Sorrow.

  And the moment the apartment door opened and Dante walked in, Gabriella saw it again. He looked exhausted, and frazzled, and absolutely done with the world, but beyond that she sensed the sorrow. She saw it in his watery eyes. She saw it in his barely-there smile. She saw it, and she felt it.

  God, it hurt.

  It hurt to see him hurting.

  "Dante," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him.

  "I'm okay," he said, rubbing her back with one hand as he shut the door with the other.

  She clung to him as he walked her over to the couch, plopping down on it and pulling her along. Her hands explored him, caressing his face as she kissed the corners of his mouth.

  Reaching up, Dante grabbed her hands, pulling them away from him. "I told you… I'm okay."

  He kissed her once, softly on the lips, before pulling away. Gabriella's eyes darted to his hands as he pinned hers in his lap, keeping her from touching him. Even in the dim lighting, she saw his knuckles swelling. "What happened to your hand?"

  As soon as she asked that, he let go of her. "Gavin."

  "Gavin?"

  "Yeah, his face hurts about as much as you'd expect it to."

  "His what?"

  "I punched him," Dante said, grimacing as he flexed his hand. "Should know better than to hit that hard-headed bastard."

  "You punched Gavin? Why?"

  "Long story," Dante muttered. "Look, can we talk about this later? I need to take a shower and wash off this… whatever. It's been a long day."

  "Sure," she whispered, although he didn't wait for her answer, disappearing to the bathroom. She stared down the darkened hallway as the water started running, the door open a crack. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the light. Gabriella took a few steps that direction, curious, when her phone rang in the kitchen.

  Diverting that way, she pressed the button to answer. Gavin. "Hello?"

  "Dante knows."

  Two words. That was it. Two words that had the power to make her knees weak. "Knows what?"

  "About his sister. I told him, and he clocked me right in the jaw for it."

  "Oh God."

  "It's been one hell of a night, and I can't get into it right now… it's not my place… but I just needed to let you know."

  "Does he know that I knew?"

  "I'm pretty sure he riddled it out. I mentioned that I should've let you tell him… I wasn't thinking, and well, point is, cat's out of the bag, and he's in a bad place right now—a weird place—so be careful, okay?"

  "Okay," she whispered. "Thank you."

  Gabriella hung up and stepped into the hallway, looking toward the bathroom. It was still dark, the water continuing to run. Gabriella edged that way, pausing at the door to push it open further. A faint noise, a sharp inhale and shuttering exhale, struck her like a punch to the chest. Crying.

  Frowning, Gabriella undressed before pushing the flimsy curtain aside just enough to slip into the shower behind him. Dante stood in the darkness, under the hot spray, his forehead pressed against the white tile wall, his eyes closed and the water masking his tears.

  Gabriella ran her hand up his back, her fingertips tracing his spine.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, "for whatever's making you feel this way."

  Dante drew her to him as he reached over to shut off the water. He said not a word, pulling her out of the shower, dripping water all over everywhere as he led her to the bedroom. Right away, his mouth was on hers, his hands roaming as he dragged her onto the bed. Hitching her knees up to push inside, he nuzzled into her neck, nibbling on the skin near her shoulder, as he thrust hard, over and over.

  "Dante," she moaned, wrapping her legs around him, lifting up to meet each stroke. Her hands ran through his hair, gripping the locks, holding onto him as he found comfort in her body. "Oh God, you feel so good…"

  He groaned, increasing his pace, each thrust desperate, hands everywhere and mouth moving, tasting every inch of skin his tongue could reach. Pain nipped at her gut as he hit deep, so deep, every bit of him in every bit of her. She could barely handle it.

  Tugging his head up, making him look at her, she whispered, "I'm so sorry… so, so sorry."

  He thrust hard in response, making her breath hitch as he stared her right in the eyes. As soon as she inhaled, he pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her roughly, stealing the air back out of her lungs. His hand drifted down between them, stroking her, bringing her to the edge. She gasped, arching her back, orgasm rippling through her.

  Dante wasn't far behind, grunting, slamming his hips against her a few times before stilling, breathing heavily. Gabriel
la hugged him, holding him, not wanting to let go.

  He pulled out, not letting go of her, tugging her into his arms, onto his chest, as he rolled over onto his back. Still, nothing was said as they lay in silence.

  Gabriella could feel the sorrow closing in around them.

  She wished, more than anything, she could chase it away, but she felt powerless to stop whatever was happening.

  Sleep caught up to Gabriella eventually, the sun shining through the bedroom window when she awoke. Groggy, she rolled over, shielding her eyes from the light, tangled naked in the sheets. Alone. As soon as that struck her, she sat up and paused. Dante sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, his head down as he stared vacantly at the messy bedroom floor. "Dante?"

  "I trusted you," he whispered. "I thought you trusted me, too."

  "I do."

  "Didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Didn't trust me enough to tell me what you knew."

  "Gavin said—"

  "Fuck Gavin. You're my girlfriend. You're not supposed to keep secrets from me."

  "I didn't want to, but it wasn't safe. Your father—"

  "Is dead. He's dead now, so it doesn't matter. It wouldn't have mattered then, either. I wouldn't have put them in danger. I told her… the last time I saw her, the last time I spoke to her… I told her she was on her own. I told her I couldn't help her anymore. And it would've been nice... it would've been really fucking nice... if one of those times I was grieving my sister you would've had the heart to tell me she was okay, that she'd made it on her own, that I hadn't doomed her."

  Gabriella stared at him, stunned, her hand grazing along his back before he stood up, moving out of her reach. "Dante, please."

  "I need some time to think."

  "Time," she said, "to think."

  "I need to clear my head, to figure out what all of this means for me, because right now, I can't make sense of it, so I need some time."

  "How much time?"

  "I don't know," he said. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

  "Where will you go?"

  "Home."

  He walked out, leaving her sitting there, tears stinging her eyes as she whispered, "But this is your home."

  "Toto, I've got a feeling our asses aren't in Kansas anymore."

  Genna stared out the side window of the Lincoln as those words tumbled from her lips, accentuated by an icy cloud of breath. The heat in the car was hardly working, likely something she screwed up. It hadn't been a problem in the southwest, where it didn't seem to get cold enough to run it, but New York's frigid temperatures were proving to be her nemesis.

  "Tell me about it," Matty muttered, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He'd taken over driving not long after they'd set out on the road. It had been a long trip… more small towns, more rundown motels, and more evading local police. Same ol' shit. While the car wasn't exactly stolen, it wasn't legal, either. It hadn't been registered in years, the Illinois license plate affixed to the back damn near older than her. "It looks like a war-zone."

  "It is," she said. "That's why Dante calls it ground zero."

  Dante…

  The mere thought of him made Genna's chest tighten.

  The closer they got to New York, the more her anxiety acted up, nausea brutally rocking her during the trip. She blamed it on 'morning sickness', although that had long ago gone away, seeing as how she was nearing the end of the pregnancy. She was a wreck, unsure how to act, unsure what to think when it came to her brother. They'd barely been on speaking terms when he disappeared, finding themselves on different sides of a battlefield in a war she wanted nothing to do with, a war he'd spent his life fighting, a war—judging by the look of the streets as they drove along—that hadn't relented at all.

  Little Italy.

  Gone was the sunshiny neighborhood full of friendly faces and familiar shops. Buildings were burned down, windows boarded up, streets blocked off. Matty had filled her in on a bit during the trip, like how her father had tried to kill Jonny Amaro, but they'd just felt like stories. Tales of another life, of another place. It wasn't until they drove by the quarantined shell that had once been Casato, pulling onto the block that had been rocked just months ago by a violent car bomb, that it sunk in.

  "It's funny, though, isn't it?" Matty asked as he stopped at a red light. "They want to control these streets so bad that they go to war over them and end up destroying it all."

  "I wouldn't call that funny, Matty. Joe Pesci is funny. Our fathers are just assholes."

  "Funny, how?" Matty grinned, leaning toward her. "Funny like a clown?"

  "Don't even." She shoved his face away. "Don't be quoting Goodfellas to me right now. I mean, holy shit… that's like saying Bloody Mary in the mirror in the dark. What are you trying to do, conjure the fuckers? It's goddamn Candyman all over again!"

  Matty laughed, pulling away from her when the light turned green again. He continued driving, veering west. Genna left him to his curiosity as he drove into Soho, navigating the familiar streets to The Place. He slowed as he passed the remnants of the building. It, too, had burned.

  "My father's seriously gotta be pissed about that," he mumbled, continuing on, not wanting to linger too long in one spot. "And those guys who hung out there, you know, they weren't bad. They just got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

  "Don't we all?" Genna watched in the side mirror as she frowned. She hadn't expected to feel so… heartbroken. "I'm sad I'll never see that pool table again. I lost my virginity on top of it."

  Laughter burst from Matty. "You were not a virgin."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I know. I didn't take it easy on you that night. Had you been a virgin, you would've been in tears, not mewling."

  She scowled. "Mewling?"

  "Like a cat in heat."

  She shoved him, damn near making him swerve the car into another lane. "You just did not compare me to a cat in heat!"

  "You practically backed that ass up into me, begging me to stick it in, baby."

  "See, that's it… I'm done with you." She shifted around in the seat, slouching, trying to get comfortable but the damn seatbelt was tight on her stomach no matter how she turned. "Just take me to my father's house and drop me off. It's about time we go our separate ways."

  "Over my dead body. That's the last place I'll be taking you."

  "What if I demand it? What if I refuse to go with you?"

  "Then I'll tie you up and throw you in the trunk."

  "See, I knew it!" She lugged her body his direction again, groaning from discomfort, and waved her finger all around his face. "When I saw you on the elevator that day, I totally called that shit. Creep."

  Matty pulled her hand away from his face. "I'm not taking you to that house. Ever. But I know where we can go."

  "Where?"

  "Neutral ground."

  Neutral ground. New Jersey.

  "You sure the house is still there?" she asked. "Everything else seems to have been wiped off the map."

  "Positive," he said. "Just like I'm positive you weren't a virgin."

  "Whatever. I didn't mewl, though. I would never."

  "That sounds like a challenge."

  "One we'll save for another day," she said, shifting around yet again. "Ugh, can you make it speedy? I've gotta pee here."

  "You just did that."

  "Yeah, well, tell that to the baby bouncing on my bladder."

  Reaching over, Matty ran his hand along her stomach, rubbing. "Take it easy on your Mom, kiddo. We need her in one piece."

  Genna rested her hand on top of Matty's, slipping her fingers between his as she smiled. She could feel the bumps, the baby shifting around in her stomach, kicking against Matty's hand, his thumb steadily stroking the spot that kept moving.

  He was right, as it turned out, the house in New Jersey still there. Matty parked the car in the driveway, not having a way to open the garage, and hesitated as he approached the front door. "Shit."
r />   Genna danced around behind him, her bladder about to burst. "What?"

  "No key." He felt his pockets. "I didn't even think about it."

  "Oh, pfftt, no problem." She headed back to the car, yanking the door open, and snatched a screwdriver off the floorboard. She wiggled it in his face as she returned. "Easy-peasy."

  "Stealing cars… hustling pool… breaking and entering… just a few of your many talents."

  "I also do that thing with my tongue," she said, slipping the screwdriver around the doorjamb, near the lock, surprised to find it already loose. "Uh, Matty?"

  "Yeah?"

  She popped the door open. "Someone has pried this thing open before."

  He caught her arm to stop her. "Wait, it might not be safe."

  She pulled away and walked right in. "Sorry, man, but I've gotta go. If someone wants to, like, stab me, they can do it after I'm done."

  "Genna…"

  Genna sprinted to the bathroom, relieving the pressure on her bladder. Closing her eyes, she clutched her stomach, a wave of pain sweeping through her—nothing alarming, but enough to be a nuisance. "Come on, kid, we can't do this right now. I need you to give me some time here before you try to make your grand entrance."

  Matty passed her in the hallway when she stepped out, carrying a few bags of stuff they'd accumulated on the road.

  "I'll get the rest," she said, heading for the car. She grabbed the last two bags, slamming the trunk closed. The moment she did, a swell of nausea ran through her. Blinking, she came face-to-face with a gun, a man clutching it that she didn't recognize.

  He stared at her in stone cold silence. He was maybe twice her age, looking like Andy Garcia circa Oceans 11, sort of attractive but mostly like he might shoot her if she moved too fast. Mobster.

  "Who are you?" he asked, his voice low.

  "Depends," she said. "What answer won't get me shot?"

  "Genna, did you get—?" Matty's question stalled when he stepped out of the house. The man glanced that direction, and Genna's mind moved fast. While most people had enough compassion to not harm a pregnant woman, especially one so far along, Matty was fair game when it came to target practice. Gaze darting around, she weighed her options, considering kneeing the guy in the junk, when Matty's voice rang out again. "Alfie?"