Faked: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Vanessa Waltz

  Killian choked on the hole in his neck. He sputtered and stilled. I threw the Sig on the bloodstained floor, the ringing in my ears dimming to a dull roar punctuated by Michael’s screaming.

  Why was he yelling?

  A small, choking sound fisted my guts.

  I whirled as Liana stumbled into the wall. She slid down. A streak of red painted the white, marking her descent. She collapsed, clutching her stomach.

  I sprinted to her side. My fingers shook as I dragged her arms from the darkening skirt. A hole buried in her hip filled with crimson. My hands slipped until Michael thrust a towel underneath my palms. Blood soaked through it in seconds. She was bleeding too much, too fast.

  Michael dialed 9-1-1.

  She grasped at my forearms, the tan rapidly drained from her body. Her gaze faded to blue slits. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she mumbled my name.

  “Deep breaths, Liana. Don’t close your eyes, baby. Please.” My free hand cupped her pale cheek. “Stay with me.”

  I pushed on the wound.

  She grimaced.

  A sheer, black panic wrapped my chest. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.

  I blinked.

  People stood everywhere. Police and EMS swarmed the apartment. The paramedic listened to her lungs as I screamed. She couldn’t breathe. Why was nobody listening? Why—

  Someone yanked me away as they loaded her onto a stretcher. She was whisked out of my sight. I rushed after her, but officers pulled me back. They asked me things I didn’t understand. Over and over. The same stupid questions that made no sense. Their garbled voices sifted through my brain, like sound passing through water.

  She’ll be all right.

  She’ll make it.

  A sharp edge stabbed my palm—the seashell.

  A dull confusion swirled in my head. I must’ve ripped it from Liana’s neck. As my thumb stroked the familiar surface, my stomach dropped. A gallery of images flashed through my mind.

  I gave it to her.

  It was me.

  Twenty-Eight

  Vinn

  We love each other.

  We'll be together.

  I muttered the words into my closed palms, as though repeating them triggered a spell that’d make everything right. The bloody necklace wrapped my hands like a rosary. I didn’t believe in God, but I fucking prayed. Anguish shattered my last sense of control.

  During the hospital ride, I clutched at my hair. I screamed. I rode a wave of intense flashbacks in the waiting room. I covered my face, trembling, a deep pain gnawing at me.

  We love each other.

  We’ll be together.

  I wiped my eyes.

  White surrounded me, so vivid it burned.

  Michael sat a short distance away. He probably drowned in his guilt. His wife massaged his back, whispering hopeful words I clung to.

  “She’s been in surgery for a long time. That’s a good sign, honey.”

  He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “She'll pull through,” she said, her voice thick. “She grew up with you. That means she's stubborn as hell and won't give up.”

  I tuned her out, unable to hear give up without a wrenching agony in my chest. I focused on breathing. In and out. Slow. I counted my breaths as though they might help Liana in the OR.

  “Can I get you something? A clean shirt?” Carmela’s hand rolled over my shoulder and squeezed. “Cup of coffee?”

  I met Carmela’s winged gaze.

  Save her. Please.

  She flinched and let go.

  Michael's hot eyes cut at me, and I could've grappled with him on the floor if fighting with him hadn't gotten her hurt in the first place.

  A man in blue scrubs emerged from the double doors. He ignored everyone in the waiting room, making a bee-line for me.

  “Are you Liana Costa’s husband?”

  I stood. “Yes.”

  He rubbed his flushed neck. “She’s in recovery. The gunshot ricocheted through her pelvis, causing multiple fractures, and it tore through a major artery, but we were able to stop the bleeding. Her vitals are stable, but she’s in critical condition.”

  His words worked through my frozen brain.

  “When can I see her?”

  “Right now. One person at a time.”

  He brought me into a maze of dark rooms and showed me to a bed where Liana lay, unrecognizable under the tubes. A suffocating sensation tightened my chest.

  It’ll be okay.

  I gripped her ankle. The relief I’d waited for wouldn’t come. I didn’t want to leave her, but they made me return to the waiting room, and I sank in the same seat. Michael came and went.

  My awareness faded to a dull murmur as hours ticked by. After a gentle suggestion from Carmela and a bundle of clean clothes shoved under my arm, I showered. Liana’s blood spiraled the drain. I cleaned her jewelry before dressing in jeans and a T-shirt.

  Numbly I headed toward her room. Michael and Carmela already sat vigil at her side. I joined them, winding the necklace around her limp hand, tucking the shell behind her fingers.

  Liana's brown waves spilled over the pillowcase, her eyes shut, her body lifeless. Maybe it was the fatigue. It was easy to daydream. The hospital bed melted into a deep orange sunset over water.

  “I'm sorry I forgot,” I croaked, waiting for a flicker of life. “It was a long time ago, and so much has happened between then and now, but I remember everything—the seagulls, the stack of fried cod, and you begging me to stay. I'm sorry I didn't. I had so many dreams, and I was going to chase them. After a few years of service, the GI bill would've paid for college.”

  “You were so upset I joined. You stormed up and down the beach, screaming, crying. I couldn’t calm you down, so I grabbed a shell off the sand. I pressed it into your hands and promised I’d come back. I told you to hold it when you thought of me.”

  Her strangled cry echoed in my head—“I love you, Vinny!”

  “You too, kid.”

  My eyes pinched.

  “They shipped me out, and it was a disaster. I read your letters so many times. I had a major problem with my CO. He did terrible things. It’s a long story, but my issues with him escalated until they kicked me out. Then they dumped me in Boston. I couldn’t get a loan. I couldn’t find a job.”

  The weight of my story seemed to stifle the air and rise, sucked through the vents.

  “I never wanted to be vulnerable again, so I pushed you away…I’m sorry I didn’t catch up until I realized I’d lost you.”

  There was nothing more to say.

  I’d purged it all.

  I squeezed her hand.

  Michael's chair scraped the floor before he exited. Carmela's fingers threaded my hair before she followed him, leaving me in the machines' horrible noise.

  Twenty-Nine

  Liana

  A kiss woke me from sleep.

  The patch of heat burned high on my cheek, and I smiled stupidly. Blankets weighed me down as I sought my husband’s warmth, my fingers brushing a cold surface. Air hissed into my nostrils through plastic tubes that tickled. My eyes cracked open.

  Too bright.

  I shut them. “Vinny?”

  “Right here.” He clutched my heavy hand. “How are you feeling?”

  The catch in his voice staggered my heart.

  I took in the intense white blanketing my sheets, ceiling, and walls.

  What the hell?

  A violent memory clawed my head, and a knife seemed to saw into my hip. I craned my neck, but the movement pulled at sore muscles. I winced, patting the fabric constricting me. Bandages wrapped my torso.

  “You were shot, honey.”

  A numb shock ricocheted down my spine. “I was?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where—why?” I blinked, sifting through blurred images. “I don’t remember.”

  “Killian got you. He’s dead.”

  Vinn’s jaw clenched. He sat beside me in a hospital chair, wearing a wri
nkled gray T-shirt and gym shorts. He seemed wound like a steel spring, his eyes glassy and distant. His hands clasped mine, which curled over something jagged. He stroked me over and over.

  “Are you okay?” I coughed.

  A miserable smile broke through his melancholy. “You scared me, Liana.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He let out a deep, shuddering breath. “Now I know what it’s like on the other side of the curtain.”

  “Vinn, it’s all right. I’m alive, aren’t I? It doesn’t—hurt that bad.”

  He softened. “Li, the doctor said you’re pregnant.”

  Shocked wedged the words in my throat. I opened and closed my mouth as a warm glow moved through me.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  I fidgeted with the sheets, struggling to contain my grin. “And the baby’s okay?”

  “So far.”

  A cry of relief broke from my lips. My hands tingled as though with new life.

  “Michael told me a few things,” he said, smiling broadly. “Like the fact you’ve had our kids’ names picked since you were thirteen.”

  Nice one, Mike.

  My cheeks flushed. “Of course he did.”

  “So, it’s true.”

  “Josh, Chris, and Vincent.”

  A secretive grin staggered across his face. “Three boys, huh?”

  “I didn’t think we’d have any girls—why in God’s name am I telling you this? It’s embarrassing.” My mind careened as I struggled to grasp a single thought.

  “Your inhibitions are lowered at the moment.”

  “Taking advantage of a gunshot victim should be beneath you.”

  He said nothing, but his smirk was enough of a response. “Let’s get back to my questions.”

  “I plead the fifth. Call my attorney.”

  He leaned forward. “There was never anyone else.”

  I nodded, sighing.

  “You lied to me. Why?”

  His hushed voice filled me with a wild hope.

  I met his widened gaze, eyes welling.

  “Because I wanted you so much. Because putting myself out there for you was terrifying. You would never, ever feel the same about me. You would never love me.”

  An understanding seemed to dawn over Vinn, blowing away the storm clouds that’d darkened his mood.

  “You love me?”

  “Yes,” I murmured, marveling at how easy it was to tell the truth. “Since I was little. I named all my imaginary boyfriends after you. I pictured you every time I thought about dating or marriage, and it drove me crazy that you were always going to be with someone else.

  You were there when my parents died. You turned the worst day of my life into something special, and I loved you for that. I loved you before I understood what it was. I could never stay away from you or get you out of my mind.”

  Vinn rubbed his forehead, his frown deepening. He was the opposite of composed, red-faced, strung-out, on the verge of exploding. He nudged open my palm.

  I relaxed my hand, revealing the seashell necklace. My stomach dropped with the weight of Vinn’s torment, and my lips parted with a broken whisper.

  “I’m so sorry. I wanted you to remember.”

  His tortured gaze pinned me to the bed. “I do now.”

  “I took the shell to a jeweler, and he drilled a hole and put in a cheap string. And I never removed it. Not once. Not even in the shower. When the silver tarnished, I replaced it with gold. I was that obsessed with you.”

  “I get it. I didn’t at first, but I think I understand.” He fixed me with a potent stare. “I’m not that man anymore, honey.”

  “I-I know. It was stupid.”

  “I still love you. That never changed. Not for one second. No matter what happens, that will never change. I love you. I always have.” He cupped my face, gliding his thumb across my cheek. “I thought that was obvious.”

  My throat thickened, and I lost him behind a sheen of tears. “You’re not mad?”

  “No. I’m the happiest asshole who’s ever lived.” He paused, grinning. “You’re carrying my kid, so that’s that. You’re stuck with me.”

  He kissed me.

  I burst into happy tears.

  Two weeks later, I limped into Vinn’s car.

  He squeezed my hand as I hissed through every pothole home. I shut my eyes through the abnormally long drive, gripping Vinn’s palm as we snaked over roads.

  A salty scent breezed inside, and then I paid attention to my surroundings. We’d arrived at a colonial house overlooking a misty beach. My jaw dropped as Vinn rolled into the driveway nowhere near Boston.

  I gripped the door handle. “Where are we?”

  Vinn parked the car. “Your favorite place.”

  “Salisbury Beach?” I laughed, ignoring the ache in my side. “You're laying it on thick.”

  “We’re staying here for a while.”

  Excruciating pain had marked my hospital visit. I’d refused everything but over the counter meds, determined not to let an opiate touch the baby.

  Michael had visited often. It appeared they’d set their feud aside in the face of my difficulties. Vinn still shouted him down when he suggested that I recuperate at his mansion. Carmela had yanked a red-faced Michael out of the room before they started World War Three across my bed.

  The timeline of my pregnancy made it obvious that Vinn hadn’t betrayed his best friend. Michael wasn’t thrilled about being lied to, but at least he didn’t hate Vinn for something he’d never done.

  Vinn left the car, lugging in two enormous suitcases before he helped me across the green lawn and up the wraparound porch, into the house furnished with quaint furniture.

  “I asked Carmela to decorate. I hope you don’t mind.” Vinn wheeled me into a cozy living room.

  I dropped into the couch. “Isn’t this a rental?”

  “I bought it.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. The doctor was very clear. You need rest, and this is the perfect place.” Vinn disappeared to the kitchen and returned with a tall glass of water.

  “There are photos of us!”

  Ignoring Vinn’s protest, I limped toward the fireplace and grabbed the gilded frame I’d kept on my desk. My gaze swam as I fingered our cheerful faces, overcome with a swell of grief and happiness.

  Vinn set the cup down, hooking his head over my shoulder. “I thought this would be a nice vacation home. For us and the kid.”

  My lungs tightened. I crashed into his chest. I sank my fingers into his shirt and cried, purging every dark feeling that’d plagued me since we’d been separated.

  Vinn's big hand caressed my back. He stroked my hair, but I couldn't stop crying.

  It wasn’t about the house.

  Or the gunshot.

  It had nothing to do with him, or his fight with Michael, the baby, or the fact my life had been flipped upside-down.

  It was hope.

  It had died and been re-kindled so many times. We'd be together one day. He would love me. Life was so fucking cruel. I'd looked in all the wrong places. I'd suffered so needlessly when all I had to say were three words.

  He would’ve said it back.

  He loved me, too.

  Epilogue

  Liana

  Four years later

  Our first boy turned three, days after I graduated from law school. Josh was his father in miniature form—camera-shy, sweet, and introverted. He blew out the candles as my husband cradled our newborn, Vincent.

  Josh grinned toothily as the house erupted in cheers, and I scanned the table, grinning at the people who filled my heart. Michael hugged Josh, and helped him cut slices of cake as his four-year-old, Luke, clung to his legs. Carmela passed out paper plates, beaming. Carmela's pixie-like sister clapped her hands, radiant beside her tanned husband, Alessio. Queenie and Vitale ignored the noise as they cozied up in a corner, kissing. My law school buddies clinked their champagne flutes with the few Vinn counted as his fr
iends.

  Since we married, Vinn and I had left Boston to the beach home for a month-long vacation every summer. Then we started inviting Michael's family and his in-laws. It was too crowded, so we built extensions to fit everyone. Eventually, it became a base for barbecues, holidays, and birthdays.

  A bottomless peace settled into my soul whenever I stepped inside this place. I exhaled a deep sigh as Vinn slid his arm around my waist. Warmth tingled my cheeks as he kissed the shell of my ear. His thumb stroked the round, circular scar from the gunshot wound.

  The recovery had been difficult, especially with a baby on the way. A media firestorm had lit up the local news until Alessio Salvatore threw enough dollars at the CEOs who pushed the articles out of the circuit. It'd been handled quietly. Vinn had kept the details from me, but the police investigation dropped shortly after Killian went 'missing.'

  A faint line creased Vinn’s forehead, his gaze riveted to my face before it moved over my body. My heart jolted as his fingers grazed my thigh.

  “Your mom’s watching the kids tonight. Let’s sneak off later and fuck.”

  His velvety voice dipped heat in my chest.

  I drank in the comfort of his closeness, the very air electrified as he nipped my skin. “You sure my brother won’t walk in on us?”

  I referenced the incident involving an unlocked door and Michael drunkenly wandering in the wrong bedroom while Vinn and I were preoccupied.

  Vinn laughed loudly, something he’d slowly learned to do during our marriage. The best part of my life with him was Vinn blossoming into a devoted father who hosted playdates and always managed a small, tentative smile. The kids had softened his harsh edges. He was still a don, but, at least in private, he was my gentle giant.

  “Joshie, hold on,” Vinn barked, detaching to grab our son. “You need sunscreen.”

  Vinn slathered the stuff on Josh’s body. Michael corralled the children and ushered them outside, where a cloudless sky mirrored the water. Vinn fitted our son with a lifejacket before he brought Josh to the water. They played in the waves before Josh decided to build sandcastles with his cousin, Luke. Michael’s older kids raced the beach.