Vendetta (The DeLuca Family #2)

by K. A. Ware

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said feeling guilty for not checking on Rosa myself.

  “All right it’s at seven, do you want to come here and we can drive together?”

  “I’ll probably just come with Enzo,” I said before I realized what I’d said.

  Shit.

  “Enzo?” she asked, clearly confused since it was a well-known fact that we hadn’t been close in years.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, racking my brain for an explanation. “I’m actually staying at Enzo’s. They’re doing some work on my building, and I had to leave for a couple of weeks. They found lead paint or asbestos or something, you know, old building and what not.”

  I am the worst liar on the fucking planet.

  “I see. Well that’s certainly nice of him to let you stay,” she said, sounding like she wanted to pry but was holding herself back.

  “Yeah it was. Hey, Mom, I’ve got a lot of work, so I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”

  “Sure honey; see you both then. Give Enzo my love.”

  “Will do, love you,” I said and disconnected the call before turning to Enzo.

  “We’re so screwed,” I said just as his cell rang.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said, answering the call.

  I banged my head against the punching bag in response.

  Kill me—kill me now.

  “Oh you’re at Claudia’s?” he asked, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

  “Yes, she is staying with me. Yeah, they're doing some renovations on her apartment and she needed a place to stay for a couple weeks. Sounds good, we’ll be there. I can't wait to see you either. Love you too, bye.”

  “Guess who's coming to dinner?” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  * * *

  “They're going to know,” I said as we drove to Marcella and Rosa’s house.

  “They're not gonna know,” he said.

  “Yes, they will. They’re going to take one look at us and they're going to know,” I argued.

  “So what? We’re adults. Hell, we’re fucking married, for Christ’s sake. Even Aunt Rosa can't find a problem there.”

  “Because there's going to be questions we can’t answer. This is my worst nightmare.”

  “Really? Your worst nightmare is being with me?” he questioned.

  “No, of course not. Shut up! You know what I mean.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Don't worry. We just won't say anything. It’s not the fucking Spanish Inquisition; it's dinner with our mothers.”

  “For you, maybe. I swear to God if you leave me alone with them, I’ll kill you. No, you know what? That’s not bad enough. I’ll never give you a blowjob again.”

  “Whoa, hey now. That’s not funny,” he said, taking his eyes off the road long enough to give me a worried look.

  “I wasn’t joking,” I threatened. “I’m serious, Enzo. You leave me alone for even a second and they’ll be all over me.”

  “Relax, it’ll be fine.”

  Dinner was awful. Rosa smiled politely at us, but her heart wasn't in it. Marcella kept giving us side eyes like she was in on some big secret, and my mom was all over Enzo like he was the fucking second coming of Christ.

  I glared daggers at Enzo when his phone rang and he excused himself from the table, leaving me sitting there with both of our mothers staring at me expectantly.

  “So,” my mother said, “how long have you two been living together?” she asked.

  That’s it, his dick is going to be pissed when he finds out he’s never getting another blowjob as long as he fucking lives.

  “I’ve been staying at his place for a few weeks,” I said, deciding to answer truthfully. At least it was one thing I could be honest about.

  “That was Angelo,” Enzo said as he walked back into the dining room, effectively cutting the impromptu interrogation short.

  “We need to go,” he said, giving me a pointed look over his mother’s head.

  I nodded my understanding and started gathering my things.

  “Where are you guys going?” my mother asked. “We haven't even had dessert yet.”

  “I'm sorry. We’re going to have to take a rain check,” I apologized, hurrying over to give her a kiss.

  We quickly said our good-byes to everybody and made our way out to the car.

  “What was that all about?” I asked as soon as we got in the car.

  “Malory called; she has new information,” he said pulling out onto the street.

  “What do you think it could be?” I asked.

  “I don't know. Angelo just called and said to get to the house; she's meeting us. He said she couldn't talk over the phone.”

  “How does she fit into all of this? I’d never even heard her name until I got the letter.”

  “I have no clue. She's helped us out a few times; I’ve only met her once or twice.”

  “I mean I've heard of dirty cops, but dirty forensic scientists? I didn't think that was even a thing.”

  “She’s Angelo’s contact. I don’t know how they met; he’s never talked about it. All I know is, she's been called in a few times to help us find someone, she does her job, and leaves.”

  “Interesting,” I said, looking out the window to see the rain trailing down the glass as we sped down the highway.

  “Don’t,” Enzo said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t go digging. I see that look on your face. You’re thinking about all the ways you can find out more about Mallory. Just leave it alone. If Angelo wanted us to know, he’d tell us.”

  “Aren’t you curious?” I asked innocently.

  “No,” he responded quickly.

  “Oh, come on, you aren’t the least bit interested in finding out how they know each other?”

  “No, I’m not. If Angelo is keeping his relationship with Mallory under wraps, he has a reason and I need to respect that. What if the roles were reversed and someone was snooping around trying to find out about you?”

  “Fine,” I grumbled.

  “I mean it,” he warned.

  “Watch it with the tone, buddy. I’ll leave it be, but you still don’t get to order me around.”

  The barest hint of a grin pulled at his lips, and I just knew he was thinking about the other night when I’d been all too eager to let him order me around. A shiver ran through me at the memory, and my thighs involuntarily squeezed together. The man was too damn sexy for his own good. Enzo must’ve caught the move, because his hand came to rest on my thigh, inching up ever so slowly until he was playing with the tops of my stockings.

  Thank you, Mom for insisting I wear a dress to dinner.

  His hand curled around my thigh and he roughly jerked it towards him, opening me up.

  “Wider,” he commanded in that voice that lit me up. I complied, spreading my legs wide for him. His eyes momentarily darted from the road to make sure I’d listened and a smirk lifted one side of his mouth. I’d come to learn that Enzo liked to play, and he always made sure we both won.

  “Pull your panties down,” he instructed, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “What panties?” I asked, incredibly satisfied at the hiss that left his lips when my words registered.

  His hand creeped up under the skirt of my dress until his fingers brushed the soft warm skin of my pussy. He took his time stoking the flames and bringing me to the brink just to back off right before I went over the edge. We were racing down the highway and even though the windows were tinted and I knew no one could see, I felt a rush of adrenaline at the illicitness of it. The danger of being caught, while unlikely, sparked an excitement in me that made everything he was doing between my legs all the more powerful.

  I looked over at Enzo, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on the road. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was angry. Without warning, he pressed two fingers into me, causing me to cry out at the sudden intrusion. He pumped his fingers, stret
ching me in a delicious way that had me panting.

  “Fuck! I love when you make those little sounds in the back of your throat. If you don’t come soon, I’m going to pull over and fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me for days,” he growled.

  The sound of his voice had my head spinning; I loved it when he talked dirty. My hips started to move with him. The way his hand was positioned was perfect for me to press my clit against his palm while his fingers massaged me from the inside.

  “Jesus, yeah, baby. Ride my hand like it’s my dick; show me how you want it,” he groaned.

  My body tensed and I cried out but he didn’t stop. He kept stroking me as I pulsed around his fingers and slowly slid back down from my orgasm.

  As we started up the big circular driveway, Enzo pulled his hand from beneath my dress. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as he placed his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean. If it were possible to spontaneously combust, I would have gone up in flames.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” I hissed as we walked up the stairs to the front door.

  “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do when it comes to you,” he said, placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me into the house.

  Mia was in the foyer, tapping her foot as if she’d been waiting days for us instead of half an hour.

  “Hey, where is everyone?” Enzo asked.

  “Office, we were just waiting for you,” Mia said, hooking her thumb in the direction of the back of the house. “Really?” she asked incredulously as we moved to head in that direction.

  “What?” I asked, pulling a face.

  What’s her deal?

  “We tell you to hurry up and get here because we have news about your stalker, and you two stop for a quickie?”

  “What? No, of course not,” I denied, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Bullshit! It’s all over your damn face,” she argued, turning her eyes to Enzo.

  He smiled and walked towards Carlo’s office. “We didn’t stop,” he called out before disappearing into the dark hallway.

  Fucking traitor.

  Mia crossed her arms and gave me a knowing look before we followed in the direction Enzo had gone.

  “Hey,” Mallory said as we walked in the office.

  “Angelo said you have information?” Enzo asked. Gone was the carefree guy from the car and in its place was the hardened enforcer of the DeLuca crime family.

  “Yeah, we found something,” she said, a trace of smartass in her tone that said she wasn’t intimidated by the big bad mobster.

  My kind of girl.

  “A body,” she continued.

  “Another girl?” I asked.

  “No, a man. Self-inflicted gunshot wound to the temple.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” I asked, confused.

  “From the surveillance pictures of you we found in the car, I’d say everything.”

  “Surveillance pictures?” I asked, stunned.

  “Yeah, I took pictures of everything I could get my hands on at the scene, but there were cops crawling all over the place,” she said pulling a face.

  I found it odd that she seemed to want to distance herself from law enforcement; she did work with them after all.

  “There was a suicide note too. I wasn’t able to get a picture but I got a good look at it when I was bagging it. It had the same contraction irregularity as the letter that you got. From the damage on the front of the car, I would guess it was also the same vehicle that tried to run you off the road,” she said, her face stone as she relayed what she knew like it was a grocery list instead of the resolution to the most terrifying experience of my life.

  “Who was he?” I asked.

  “His name was,” she said looking down at her phone, “Joshua Carrington.”

  I gasped. “No, there must be some mistake,” I argued.

  “What? Did you know him?” she asked, looking over the top of her glasses at me.

  “Yeah, I knew him; he was my assistant. There's no way! The guy was scared shitless of me.”

  “I don't know,” she said, shaking her head. “He was found dead with your picture in his car and a knife that fits the description the medical examiner gave for the murder weapon of those girls.”

  “I just can't believe it. Why?”

  “I have no clue. From what the detectives said, he had no priors,” she said shrugging. “Some people are just sick in the head and have a good way of hiding it.”

  “I guess,” I replied, running through all the conversations I’d had with Josh. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember anything that would indicate he was capable of murder.

  “All right, well if that's it, I’ve got to get back to the lab,” Mallory said, placing her cell phone back in her purse.

  “Yeah, of course,” I replied numbly. “Thank you so much for letting us know.”

  “I'll see you out,” Angelo said and guided her out the door.

  “Thank God it's over,” Mia said, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  The drive back to Enzo’s was decidedly less exciting than the trip to Carlo and Mia’s. We spent the majority of the ride in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t get over the fact that I hadn’t even considered Josh could’ve been the stalker. I felt stupid that I’d so easily discounted him.

  “It just doesn’t feel real,” I said as we walked into the house.

  “You’ll probably feel like that for a while,” Enzo said, placing his keys on the kitchen counter and grabbing a beer from the fridge and offering me one.

  I shook my head. “Just water.”

  He handed me a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the island and looked at me expectantly. The fact that he was waiting for me to continue almost made me crack a smile.

  He knows you better than anyone.

  “Why?” I asked, still trying to process everything. “What would possess him to do that? I mean, think about it. He killed all those girls, stalked me for months, and then he kills himself? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn't have to make sense. The guy was crazy,” he said.

  “I guess you’re right; I just feel weird is all,” I said, rubbing at my temples. I could feel a migraine coming on.

  “Obviously this isn't a normal situation, there's not any one way to feel,” he said in an effort to reassure me. It didn’t help.

  “You're right, there's not a way to wrap your head around something a crazy person does and why they do it,” I said, grabbing the bottle of aspirin on the counter and downing four. “Jesus, I’m exhausted. I just want to crash. I’ll move my shit back to my apartment tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, straightening, his posture suddenly ridged.

  “I'm tired?” I asked, confused by his question.

  “No, the other part.”

  “What? The moving my stuff back to my apartment?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why would you do that?”

  “Because that's where I live?” All my answers were coming out as questions because I had no clue what the hell had his panties in a twist.

  “Not anymore,” he said, bracing his hands on the counter to look me head on.

  “I’m too tired for this shit. What are you talking about?”

  “You live here,” he said distinctly.

  “No, I live in an apartment across town,” I said, finally realizing where he was going with the conversation. “Enzo, we just got back together. Hell, we weren't even together in the first place. It’s a little soon to be talking about moving in together, don’t you think?”

  “We’re married,” he deadpanned.

  “Yes, but that's not really the same thing,” I argued.

  “It’s exactly the same. If you want, we can renew our vows or whatever—I don’t care. But you're my wife and you're not going to be living somewhere that I'm not,” he said, abandoning his beer and moving
around the island to stand in front of me.

  “Excuse me, but you don't get to tell me what to do. We’re just starting out; it’s crazy to even be talking about marriage at this point,” I reasoned, the argument sounding pathetic even to my own ears.

  “You’re just arguing for the sake of arguing. We’re already married. What would be insane is living separately,” he said, picking me up without warning.

  I shrieked in protest as he carried me fireman’s style toward the bedroom.

  “I've spent years sleeping alone and I'm not going to do it again. I finally have you and you're not leaving my side,” he said, setting me back down and capturing my lips in a scorching kiss, and I melted into him.

  “This conversation isn't over,” I insisted, before letting him pull my dress over my head.

  24

  Enzo

  Present

  “You know, you could move in with me,” Frankie said as she stared at me over the top of her laptop.

  We were on the couch in the living room; her feet propped up on my lap as she worked and I watched the game. We’d been arguing back-and-forth about our living arrangements for the past week and had yet to come to an agreement.

  “No,” I said simply.

  “What do you mean, no? Isn't this something we could at least talk about? It’s close to work for both of us instead of having to commute all the way across town from your house,” she argued.

  “It’s our house,” I said, giving her a pointed look.

  “No, it’s not. Besides, my gym is right down the street from my apartment. Do you know how hard it is to find a gym with a pole dancing class?”

  “First, I’ll install a pole in our room so you can practice any time you want. Second, it is our house; I bought it for you.”

  “What are you talking about? You said you bought this place years ago.”

  “So?” She was right, of course; I’d bought the house two years ago, but that didn’t mean I didn’t buy it for her.

  “Would you stop being so fucking cryptic? You know I hate it when you do that,” she complained.