by K. A. Ware
Frankie turned her gaze to me across the empty cab, her tired eyes curious.
This is Frankie, my Franny. No matter what, she’s still mine. No matter what, we’ll get through it.
Steeling my nerves, I let the words stumble out, my voice sounding off to my own ears.
“Before I got to you, did he?” I asked, not able to finish.
“No,” she said, quickly understanding where my head was at. “No, he just watched me, while he…”
I had to swallow down the bile that rose in my throat when realization dawned on me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed the anger to seep from my body. She didn’t need my anger. I didn’t know exactly what she needed, but I knew it wasn’t anger.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked. After everything she’d been through, I wanted her to be wherever she was most comfortable, that I could do.
“Home,” she said, slumping against the seat.
“Home?” I asked, not sure which place she was referring to.
“Our home,” she clarified, reaching across the console to cover my hand with hers.
* * *
A week later we buried her mother. I held her hand as we watched the casket lowered into the ground, and my heart broke for her. With her mother gone, the house went to Frankie. She’d decided to put both her mother’s house and her loft up for sale, explaining that she couldn’t bear to keep either of them after everything that happened. I didn't blame her.
In the haze of chaos after Angelo was carted off to the hospital, we hadn’t been told anything other than her mother was dead. Only in the light of day, and after speaking with Antonio, were we able to piece together what had happened.
She’d been tied to a pipe in the unfinished basement where Antonio found her. There was no telling how long she’d been down there, her body beaten and sliced to within an inch of her life. Antonio had untied her and tried to help in some way, trying to stem the blood that was slowly leaking from her countless wounds, but she was too far gone. Instead, he explained how he’d held her as she passed, trying to provide a shred of comfort to her brutal end.
Frankie had broken down upon hearing what Eddie had done. I held her for hours, long after Antonio let himself out. I was her rock. I let her cry while my mind tried to make sense of the realization that the man I’d called a brother was responsible for her pain. I wasn’t sure how to process it.
I’d trusted him with Frankie. The thought had never crossed my mind that he would ever do anything to hurt her. The bitter taste of betrayal filled my mouth every time I thought of him, then the guilt would come. After everything I’d seen and done in my lifetime, how was it that I was so completely duped?
For days, I combed through my memories, searching for something that would’ve hinted that Eddie’s interest in Frankie had turned to obsession. I lamented over every detail, trying to see clues I may have overlooked, but there was nothing.
Given that Eddie had been able to get in and out of Frankie’s loft undetected, I wondered why he hadn’t tried to get to her when she was at my house. He knew where I lived. He’d been there before, when we were planning the meeting with the Russians. So why did he stay away? The answers to that and so many more questions burning through my mind would be buried with him six feet under.
For the second time in less than a year, my Aunt Rosa buried her son, but this time the only person in attendance to hold her hand was my mother. In light of everything Eddie had done, Aunt Rosa turned into herself. She didn’t speak to anyone but my mother and spent most of her time in church mourning the loss of a son she never really knew.
It took a few weeks for the physical wounds Eddie had inflicted to heal over. However, the scars on our souls he had left in his wake were permanent. We’d never be able to understand why he did what he did. The only choice we had was to pick up the pieces that were left and try to move forward—together.
Epilogue
Frankie
Four months later…
“Are you sure you're up for this?” Enzo asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, taking his hand.
“I'm serious, if you don't feel comfortable, we don't have to do this.”
“It’s a baby, not a rabid dog. I’ll be fine, really.”
“If you're sure,” he said slowly.
“Jesus Christ,” I snapped. “Can you please stop?”
“I’m done,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze.
I appreciated his concern but if he didn’t stop pestering me about my ‘feelings’ I was going to knee him in the balls. The past few months had been rough, but I was dealing with it. I’d even gone as far as weekly appointments with a therapist.
At first I wanted to rip my fucking hair out at the way she would just sit quietly and watch me, waiting for me to answer some arbitrary question. After a few weeks though, it got easier. I felt less like she was judging me and more like she was actually helping.
I was careful with what I told her, not giving any indication to my involvement with the DeLuca family, instead focusing on the loss of the baby and my mom’s death. We talked about what I went through when Eddie had kidnapped me as well, but surprisingly enough, that wasn’t the most traumatic part of everything that had happened. The knowledge that he’d violated my privacy and dug through my life like he had was more disturbing to me than the physical attack. It was a long road ahead, but I was confident I’d make it out on the other side, not unscathed but still whole, with a few battle wounds to show for it.
It had been a week since Mia gave birth to a healthy baby girl and we were on our way to see them for the first time. They’d only been home from the hospital for a few days, so we decided to wait it out a bit and let them settle in. Besides, between Pauline and Elena, I think Mia had more help than she could ever need. She’d sent me a text yesterday begging us to come for a visit so she could get some peace. Apparently having two mother hens doting on you wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
I’d had to build up the courage to actually see the baby. It was one thing to watch Mia grow throughout the pregnancy. It was an entirely different thing actually see her baby alive and well. I knew I would still feel that pang of sadness, but I’d made peace with the past and facing my fears was the first step to moving on. I’d talked about the possibility of having kids with my therapist. While I didn’t think I was ready yet, I was confident that I’d get there someday soon.
Enzo and I had decided not to renew our vows. We didn't need a reminder of our commitment to each other. Even though the intentions were different now, the promises we made to each other all those years ago still held true and that was perfect for us.
“You ready?” Enzo asked as he parked the car.
I took a deep breath and smiled at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”
We made our way up the stairs, and before we even reached the landing, Mia had the door flung open.
“Thank God you’re here. I swear to fuck I was going to start shooting people just to get your asses out here,” she complained.
“Good to see you too, Mama,” I said, giving her an affectionate backhanded smack on the arm. Mia and I were not huggers.
“Where’s the baby?” Enzo asked.
I laughed. He was way more excited to see the baby than he’d let on before.
“She’s napping,” Mia said, leading us into the kitchen.
“Oh,” Enzo said trying not to sound disappointed, but it was written all over his face.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be up in a few minutes. I swear to God the kid has a personal vendetta against sleep. Besides, Carlo and I have something we want to talk to you about.”
“What’s up?” I asked as we all saddled up at the kitchen island. Carlo was already there, sipping on a glass of wine.
“Mia and I want you to be her godparents,” Carlo said abruptly, earning a smack from Mia.
“Seriously? You couldn’t have eased into it?” Mia accused.
“What?” Carlo asked, a b
ewildered look on his face. Subtlety was not Carlo DeLuca’s strong suit.
“What my dear husband meant to say,” Mia clarified, “is that we would be honored if you’d be Lucy’s godparents.”
“Lucy?” Enzo asked.
“Shit,” Mia cursed. She hadn’t told us the baby’s name yet; instead, she demanded we meet her so we could be properly introduced.
The soft cries of a newborn pierced the air through the baby monitor that was set up on the counter.
Mia moved to get up, but Carlo placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her in place.
“I got it,” he said and left the room.
When he returned, he was holding a small bundle wrapped in a green blanket. He passed the little baby burrito over to Mia, who gazed adoringly at her daughter. She moved the blanket out of her face and turned so we could see.
“I’d like you to meet your goddaughter, Luciana Regina DeLuca,” Mia said, her smile huge.
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled on my lips; she was gorgeous. Her head was covered in dark fuzz and a little dimple poked out in one cheek when she yawned.
“I get Regina, after Gina, but where did you get Luciana? I asked.
“Carlo’s mother,” Mia smiled softly, her eyes sad.
“It’s beautiful,” I said quietly, still gazing at the little angel.
“Here, hold your goddaughter,” Mia insisted, placing the blanket wrapped bundle in my arms despite my silent protests.
“Wait,” I said, straightening. “We didn’t say yes.”
“Oh well, too late now,” Mia said with a wink and we all laughed.
The End
Acknowledgments
The journey to bring this story to life was a rough one. To say that blood, sweat, and f-bombs were used in abundance during the process of writing Vendetta would be an understatement. However, despite the challenges and setbacks, I came through the other side completely in love with these characters.
Steph, ducky, crazy bitch, and critique partner extraordinaire, I couldn’t have made it through the process without you. Our constant stream of texts and #duckflu jokes kept me sane. From the moment I read your very first email I knew that you were one of my people. Your insight and brutal honesty have been invaluable and I sincerely hope to be able to return the favor.
Mitzi, thank you so much for taking on my crazy, comma loving ass. Your professional demeanor and kind words were such a relief to my stress addled brain. I look forward to working together on many more projects in the future!
Cassy, dear God woman, I don’t know how you do it but I’m so grateful for your ability to take my discombobulated ideas and make them into something beautiful. You seriously rock!
My friends and family, you are all saints for dealing with my obsessive personality and complete inability to engage in anything non-book related for the past few months. You guys are my foundation and I cannot begin to tell you how much each and every one of you mean to me. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love without you guys cheering me on.
Again, thank you to everyone in my life that has encouraged me throughout this process, it’s been a crazy six months and I’ve never been happier.
About the Author
K.A Ware is an indie author living in Portland, Oregon. While she was born in the Portland area, K.A moved to Texas as a teen and fell in love everything the great state had to offer. She goes back to visit as often as she can. K.A. moved on to live in Alabama and Washington before settling back in her hometown.
Her days consist of working at her real life job in the financial field and taking care of her young daughter. Writing is not her only passion, K.A. also serves on the Board of Directors for a local non-profit and spends way too much time reading.
When she’s not busy mothering, working, writing, or reading she enjoys spending time with family and friends and embracing the weirdness that is Portland. K.A. loves music so if you ever find yourself at a metal show at the Roseland, take a look around. She’s the crazy redhead head banging at the front.
Stalk Me Online…
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Also By K.A. Ware
OMERTÁ
The DeLuca Family – Book One
http://amzn.com/B012F2QGXA
HOT MESS
Dirty Bitches – Book One
http://amzn.com/B019E8N550