I took in a deep breath and tried to center my whirring thoughts. They scattered and fluttered just out of my reach, so I just went with my instincts, like he’d told me to.
“I’m with you. All the way.” I softened my tone, and he took another step back.
Daniel held his hands out in the stop position. I stepped in between them.
“Here—” he pointed to his head, “and here—” he pointed to his heart, “are going to have to be enough.”
Another piece of me broke at the desperation and resolve in his words. “No.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “We get here too.”
He stiffened when I pressed my body against his. This was home. He knew it.
“I refuse for you to live that kind of life!” he roared. I drew back, though I fisted his shirt in the small of his back. I couldn’t let go. “What if I’m moved upstate? Or out of state? Do you think I’d make you stay with a man you’ll hardly get to see? I’m looking at a minimum of twenty years. You deserve better than that.”
I clutched the soft cotton of his dress shirt. “I’ll move closer. And as long as I get to see you, that’s all that counts.” He gently shoved at my shoulders in an attempt to distance himself. I held fast, though my voice rose. “And how do you know you’ll be in for at least twenty years? You haven’t even been arrested.”
He arched a brow as if to say, haven’t I? My stomach plummeted.
“Oh my God. When?” Panic pushed to the surface, overpowering everything else.
“Last night.” His indifference had me shaking him.
“Are you okay?” My eyes roved his face and every visible part of him I could see, searching for any sign he’d been hurt.
“I had my own cell. If that’s where I end up, it won’t be so bad.” He shrugged, and I pushed at his chest.
“This isn’t a joke. How could you be arrested, spend the night in jail, and I not know about it? How are you out now? When do you have to go back?”
“This is exactly why I let you go. I can’t stand to see you dragged into this mess. There’s nothing to be done, and it’s not worth your worry.” His hands went back into his pockets, but he held my gaze.
“You are worth it!” I shouted, stabbing my index finger into his chest.
“No. I won’t have you coming to see me in a prison. That’s no place for you. And it’s not like you can just waltz in anytime you please. You’d spend more time traveling than we’d actually get to visit.” Excuses. All of them were pitiful excuses.
“So what? Do you think if we aren’t together that’s going to stop me from worrying, or missing you?” He offered me a bland look in response. “I’ll visit you any fucking way.”
“I’ll refuse to see you.” Steel was in his gaze.
“Try and keep me away,” I challenged, squaring my shoulders.
“Goddammit.” He pounded his fist low on the wall behind us. “Let me do right by you. Let me fucking protect you. Please.”
“Enough!” I screamed, even as the please permeated my frustration. Of course he’d use that weapon now. “No more excuses.”
“Reasons. They’re reasons, not excuses.”
“I don’t want to hear them.” I slid my hands to his face. “They don’t matter.” I softened my tone and pressed up on my toes. I brushed my lips against his. “Start from the beginning. Make me understand.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath. My mouth hovered near his. I needed him to make the next move. We were close. All he had to do was take us back. I didn’t care what he’d done—in the past or over the last few weeks. I’d forgiven him already.
“I know people who have been through this. I’ve seen what it does to a wife when a man goes to prison.”
“That’s them and this is us,” I said stubbornly. “I’m not saying it will be easy—”
“You have no idea what we’d be up against. Let’s forget about the fact that I could be transferred here, there, and everywhere. The second one of those fuckers says something inappropriate to you…I’ll be in for a legitimate murder.”
“Who the hell is going to say something to me?” I asked incredulously.
“Donato’s wife was felt up by a guard. And let’s not even get into the shit other inmates said to her, and to him about her.”
“Do you honestly think I’m afraid of what someone might say to me?” I threw both hands up. “I won’t like it, but—”
“What if it drives me to beat the everliving shit out of someone? Any chance for parole will fly out the window the second someone says a word to you,” he said through gritted teeth.
“If Donato handled it, you can.”
He snorted. “Oh, he handled it all right. That guard mysteriously disappeared.”
I swallowed hard at that, but I wasn’t going to let anything he was saying deter me. “I’m offended you think so little of me. That I can’t handle this.”
“It’s not you that can’t, Vivian. It’s me. I’m the one that can’t deal with it.”
He pinched his lips together and scrubbed his hand over his face. It pained me to see him this way.
“I can’t do this to you. I never wanted you to be tangled up in my past. And if I keep you, I’m no different than my father. A selfish bastard who couldn’t see past anyone but himself.”
“But I know that’s not who you are. I love you, Daniel. That’s all we need to get through anything.”
His eyelids flew open. “Before you, I’d have said that way of thinking was naive.”
“And now?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
“You’re my reason for…everything.”
I forgot to wait for him to kiss me. I smashed my lips to his and locked my fingers behind his neck. My eyes remained glued to his. Anguish, determination…and love stared back at me.
His arms banded behind my back, and he pulled me flush against him. “I don’t like this,” he protested, even as he slipped his tongue between my parted lips.
I tilted my hips toward him, his erection hard against me. “Feels like you do.”
His lips twitched before he touched them to mine again. “I want you to have a life. If I let you stay, you won’t. I can’t take your life from you.”
“You already have,” I murmured against his mouth. “All of me belongs to you.”
He groaned, his hold tightening. “Damn right it does.”
“I’m staying. You don’t get to decide.” I tipped my head back and gave him my I’m not fucking around look.
He dropped his forehead to mine. “I never had a choice anyway.” His eyes were clearer when he looked at me. “You’re the only way, V.”
“Are you done pushing me away?”
He swallowed hard and cradled my head to his chest. “I-I don’t know how to deal with leaving you on your own. It’s hard for me to accept you settling when you deserve so much better.”
I sighed and burrowed against him. “You are more than I deserve. And we’ll find our way. Please don’t make me do it without you.”
Daniel kissed the top of my head. “I never really left you.”
I popped up to look at him, eyes rounded. “What about her ?”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe I was done, that you’d see right through my bullshit. I secured a modeling contract for Giselle in exchange for her pretending to be my girlfriend. She never spent one night here, just left some stuff so Muriella would tell you. I never touched her. Never wanted to.”
“Where is she anyway? I thought she was here.”
“She was. Paul intercepted her at the door. Apparently Muriella told him she wasn’t allowed on the premises anymore.” His eyes danced with mirth. “She said she was going back home. I told her that was fine.” He fingered a lock of my hair. “No one could ever take your place, but I had to make it convincing. Should have known it wouldn’t matter.”
“Neither of us can stop this.” I motioned between the two of us. “You should know that by now.”
“I get why you wanted to keep us away from those people. I’m glad you did in some respects. I never want to come home to a scene like that again.”
“You won’t,” he said, resolute. “I was wrong. I should have been honest with you from the start. A mistake I won’t make again.”
His features transformed. He kissed the tip of my nose. “Why do you always have to be right?”
“It’s just part of life.” I shrugged.
“Two seconds after telling you the truth and I see things so much more clearly.” He held me close. “I have to go, but you’ll be here when I get home.”
“Wait. We need to talk about how we’re going to get you out of this. Where are you going?”
“To get some answers.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Daniel
Twenty-Five Years Earlier
“Who the fuck is it?”
I balled my fist and pounded on the door again at the sound of my father’s voice. A roach skittered in front of my foot and through the wide gap under the door of room 213. I hope he steps on it barefoot.
The window air conditioning unit kicked on, a pitiful whine that morphed into an overworked wheeze as it strained to keep up in the heat. Pink paint peeled from the edge of the door frame revealing the piss-yellow that had coated the metal before. Six Michelob bottles were lined up against the railing across from the room next door, divots in the cement walkway in front of them. Target practice at close range.
The curtain moved. Seconds later, the door opened. My father’s evil face appeared, and his smug expression made my stomach drop. He’d lured me again. I knew better than to come to this dump of a motel, yet I’d done it anyway.
His cheap-ass suit reeked of even cheaper cigars. To think I’d once believed my father to be a sharp dresser. Once I’d seen men in real tailored suits, I realized he was just a piss-poor imitation.
He raked his eyes over my own suit, judging me down to my shoes. “Well, well. Aren’t we the big man?”
My fingernails dug into my palms as I struggled to contain my temper. He was making fun of me when he wanted something from me? I had to get out of there.
“We’re done here.”
I took a step toward the stairs and he caught me by the shoulder. “The hell we are.” He squeezed and dragged me into the room. We were the same height now, but I hadn’t filled out yet. I worked on it every single day.
“Take your hands off me.” I surprised myself at the calm in my voice.
My father dug into my shoulder to spite me. Always had to prove a point.
“What did you have to do to earn that suit? I doubt you’ve got the balls to kill anyone,” he taunted, kicking out the one chair at the small table near the window before he dropped into it. The lamp on the nightstand put off a yellow glow in the otherwise dark room. He tipped a bottle of scotch toward an empty glass, liquid splashing out on the cracked fake-wood table.
“I’m a busy man,” I said, ignoring the jab.
He laughed, tossing half of the drink down his throat. “You’re no man. Never have been. Always hiding behind your mother’s skirts.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Do not talk about her.”
“Try and stop me.” He polished off the drink and looked at me like I was nothing. “Once that cunt got you, she never wanted to put out anymore. She was a hell of a fighter, I’ll give her that, but not strong enough to keep me from fucking her whenever I wanted to. I don’t know why I bothered—”
I had my hands wrapped around his throat before he finished the sentence. His eyes widened as I picked him up from his seat and slammed him against the wall. He grabbed at my forearms and struggled to loosen my grip. Fury fueled me. I was too strong, and I enjoyed it as he fought me and lost.
“I deserved more than what she had for enduring her buttoned-up pussy,” he managed to say through his shrinking windpipe. I increased the pressure, my knuckles turning white. “Like. A. Robot,” he said between breaths. His eyes danced. He didn’t think I’d kill him. He thought I was a joke.
“Shame she died so young,” he coughed out. ”Don’t you think?”
My ears rang as the implication of his words bounced around in my head. I demanded an answer without saying a word, and he smiled. I cut off his airflow, snarling as I gripped his neck with all the force I had.
“You son of a bitch.” I shook him as rage unlike I’d ever known took hold.
He turned white, but there was no fear in his eyes. “You’re just like me,” he rasped, his hands clutching me. “You can’t change your genes any more than you can change your destiny.”
The words were a gut punch, breaking through the haze of anger. If I killed him, I would be no better than him. I refused to be my father’s son. My head cleared as I realized this.
I shoved him against the wall. With one final squeeze, I let him go. He dropped to the floor, spluttering as he clutched his throat.
I stood over him, my nostrils flared. “Fuck you.”
I slammed the door on my way out and flew down the stairs. Climbing on my motorcycle, I sped off, making it to the closest service station, though I had no idea how I got there. It took me three tries to shove a coin into the payphone just outside the entrance to the mini-mart. My fingers trembled as I pressed the worn-out buttons.
“Salvatore.”
“He killed her,” I said breathlessly. My eyes stung with the acknowledgment. “He killed her.” This time my voice was barely above a whisper.
“Slow down, son.” The calm in Donato’s voice helped a little.
I sagged against the concrete block wall, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go. My vision went blurry. My chest heaved. One thought was on repeat in my head.
“He killed her.” Speaking the truth didn’t make it any easier. I doubled over, barely able to stand.
“Where are you? I’m coming for you.”
I swiped at my eyes, the back of my hand wet. “No. No.”
“Daniel.” The sympathy in his voice nearly sent me over the edge. I couldn’t stand it. Didn’t want it.
I straightened and held the phone away from me as I sucked in a deep breath. At least I could see again. “We’ll meet as planned.” The crack in my voice betrayed me.
A long pause floated across the line. “I’ll see you at three-thirty,” Donato finally said.
I hung up the phone with a limp arm and leaned against the wall for support. He killed her. He fucking killed my mother. And I couldn’t return the favor because that’s not what she would have wanted me to do.
My chest squeezed, and I swallowed hard. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be here with me now. I thought she died because she was sick, but he’d grown tired of her.
He killed her.
He killed her.
He killed her.
* * *
Three forty-five. Where was he? I stood from the chair I’d been waiting in for half an hour and went to the water fountain. I punched the button, a pathetic stream of liquid spurting from the spigot. I bent, wetting my lips.
I didn’t have the paperwork. If Donato didn’t show, I wouldn’t get my passport. Then I couldn’t get away from here. I needed to go to Vienna with him. The more distance I put between me and the monster who’s blood ran through my veins, the better.
I sat down again. God, these chairs suck. I tried to adjust to a more comfortable position on the plastic, but that was impossible.
If I’d gotten my driver’s license, I wouldn’t have needed him for this. It never occurred to me that Donato would let me down, especially on something this important. When we got back from our
trip, I was headed straight to the DMV. I drove without a license all the time, but I was almost eighteen, and I needed legal ID so if I got pulled over, the police wouldn’t have an excuse to arrest me. I almost had enough saved to buy an apartment, one with enough space that I’d never feel cramped again. A whole floor. If I kept at it, I could buy a whole floor.
The glass door to the waiting room swung open. Donato came in, immediately finding me. I stood and met him halfway.
“I got held up,” he said.
My brows dipped, surprised he’d offered any explanation at all.
“They haven’t called me yet.”
He squeezed my neck affectionately and steered me toward the chair I’d vacated. “Ready for this? We’ll be gone a week. Maybe a little longer depending on how things go.”
I nodded, anxious to get away from New York, if only temporarily. “It’s just the two of us going?”
Donato had barely briefed me on the trip. We were going. That was about all I knew.
“Yes.” He flipped through the paperwork in the envelope he’d brought. “We’ll stop in Italy. I’ll show you where my grandparents are from, and we’ll pick up a few things for Valentina.” His lips turned up at the mention of his wife. She was a kind lady, like my mother. If I ever had a wife, I’d want her to be like them. Except I was never getting married. Everyone always left me. I was better off on my own.
“Daniel Elliott,” the clerk called.
We both stood and followed her to her office. Donato had come up with paperwork showing he was my legal guardian. He’d smashed the only roadblock to my first real form of identification. And when he tried to pay the fee, pride filled his eyes as I shut him down and took the cash from my own wallet. In what seemed like minutes, I had a passport.
“May I have a copy of the approved application?” Donato asked smoothly as we stood to leave the office.
The woman smiled and did it immediately. Someday, people would listen to me just like they did to Donato.
It's Not Over (Paths To Love Book 1) Page 27