by Bethany-Kris
It’d yet to happen.
Rose offered, and Diego always refused quietly in the background. It killed Renzo—like a knife right into his heart, but what could he do?
It was what it was.
He’d just worked up the nerve to head across the street to his sister’s shop when the phone in his pocket started to vibrate.
Fuck.
Renzo knew better than to ignore a call, but especially because the only people who ever called him were those from The League. Pulling the phone out, he swiped his thumb across the screen to answer it, and put the device to his ear.
He didn’t even say hello.
He didn’t have to.
“What are you doing?”
Yeah, Cree sounded pissed.
“Currently—watching a white car drive in front of my position,” Renzo replied dryly.
“Don’t you fuck with me, New York.”
“Nice to hear from you, too, Cree.”
Sarcasm was his best defense when he didn’t want to deal with one of Cree’s moods, to be honest. Plus, it just irritated the man even more when Renzo refused to feed into his attitude. A win-win, truly.
“You’re in New York?”
“How long did that take you to figure out?” Renzo asked. “I’ve been here for a couple of hours, now.”
“That wasn’t approved,” Cree spat.
“Listen, I told Dare I wasn’t a fucking babysitter. I’m not following that Italian everywhere day in and day out. Besides, I’ve got beads on him. I know where he is, and what he’s doing. The same shit he was doing for the last two goddamn weeks—nothing.”
“You have a job.”
“Yeah, I’ll get back to it.”
“Renzo!”
Ouch.
Full first name.
Cree was at his limit.
“Listen, I have something personal to handle, all right,” Renzo muttered, leaning against the brick wall as he eyed the shop across the way. “And then I’ll get back to the fucking Italian. It won’t be for long, and he is being watched. I’ve got people who keep me updated regularly. A day or two isn’t going to hurt, is it?”
“I have Dare on my ass right now about this,” Cree returned. “Calling me every five fucking minutes because you’re not where you’re supposed to be. I haven’t picked up yet, but trust that he’s left a voicemail each goddamn time.”
“So, lie.”
Cree said nothing.
Renzo almost chuckled.
“Why would I lie for you?” Cree asked, deathly calm.
That one seemed obvious, didn’t it?
“Because what I do is always reflected back on you, right?” Renzo did let out a bitter laugh, then, adding, “Wouldn’t want him to think I’m running wild when you’re the one who’ll have to answer for it, would you?”
Cree made a grunt. “You’re a fucking—”
“It’s not going to be for long,” Renzo repeated.
Although, he couldn’t say that was the truth. What he did know was that his five years were almost up—he was itching for it. This little side trip was just a taste of what was yet to come for him, and he planned on soaking every second of it up.
“Make sure your stupid ass is back on the job ASAP.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Renzo hung up the phone without a proper goodbye, and stepped out of the alleyway into the bright sunlight of the spring day. His first step toward his sister—practice, maybe, for what was yet to come.
Who knew?
• • •
Rose hadn’t changed a bit. At least, not in Renzo’s eyes. Sure, she was five years older than she had been the last time he laid eyes on her. Gone was that teenaged girl who seemed to behave and talk like every other teenage girl. In her place was a young woman with her hair pulled back into a neat braid, carefully applied makeup, and an artist’s smock covering a tasteful black dress that fell to her knees.
She was still his kid sister.
He looked at her from across the shop—he was going to fix the bell above the door that didn’t ding when he entered like it should have—and still saw the little girl who he had taken care of for almost his entire life.
He saw the paintbrush in her hand as she carefully worked on adding the details to the pottery vase in front of her, and remembered the girl he’d lifted packages of paintbrushes for so she could get her stroke just right. He saw the way she tilted her head to the right in her concentration, and remembered how she used to bend over a canvas on their living room floor for hours despite the ache in her back just so she could finish something because he couldn’t afford to buy her a proper fucking easel.
No, she wasn’t the same girl.
Yet, she was to him.
“Rose,” Renzo said quietly.
Instantly, his sister looked up from her work, that heavy concentration written across her brow flitting away. It took her no time at all to find him standing just beyond the doorway of her shop—her gaze widened, and her mouth fell open.
The paintbrush fell from her fingertips.
It took her a second.
Then, two.
She blinked like she was trying to convince herself what she was seeing was something that existed. It took her entirely too long to reply to him like she believed he was standing right there, but that was okay, too. Renzo didn’t mind waiting; he didn’t doubt this had been a surprise to her.
But he figured … when would be a good time to do this?
He didn’t know.
“Ren?” Rose whispered, her tone thick with emotions.
Renzo grinned. “Hey, Rose.”
“Oh, my God, Ren?”
“Yeah, that’s still my name.”
At least, his first name. His surname depended on whatever document he was using at the time provided to him from The League. Not that it mattered right now.
All at once, Rose seemed to snap out of her daze. Renzo barely had time to open his arms to catch his sister as she flew at him. Her hug felt like bars locking around his neck—so fucking tight, he couldn’t breathe properly.
Renzo didn’t even care.
He held her just as tight.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he muttered into her hair.
Rose’s laughter mixed with the sounds of her crying. “Me, too.”
He wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, but it didn’t matter, either. It was perfect—just him and his sister. The rest of the world stopped existing for a time. It was perfect. A reunion he had been wanting forever.
One of many, honestly.
Rose pulled away a little bit, but Renzo still kept a hold of her. “You couldn’t call and let me know you were going to be around, or what?”
He shrugged. “Last minute decision.”
That wasn’t a lie.
She laughed, still crying. He wiped the tears from her face without saying a word about them. She let him.
“Just … where have you been?” she demanded.
Renzo arched a brow. “Rules still apply, Rose.”
Don’t ask.
Don’t know.
Don’t tell.
Simple.
Rose let out a shaky breath. “But why?”
Well, he wasn’t sure if that fell into the category of the rules, or not. Sometimes, it was better to play it safe, but he figured … his sister had waited all this time, and he did owe her something.
“Someone made a deal for me,” he said, knowing he couldn’t give much more than that without explaining The League. That was most certainly off the table entirely. “Stuff you wouldn’t believe was true even if I told you it was, Rose. But there’s rules—okay? As long as we follow them, then it’s good.”
“But if you don’t follow them?”
Renzo smiled crookedly. “Let’s not find out, yeah?”
God knew he pushed the line enough.
“Okay,” she whispered, her hands fluttering across his chest before patting him quickly. “Ho
w long are you in the city? Could you come for dinner tonight? I’m sure Diego would love to see you, and you must want to see him. I mean, if you can and you don’t mind but—”
“Rose, relax.”
His sister let out a hard breath, and sniffled. “It’s been a long time, Ren.”
He hated that water in her eyes.
Hated the tears that escaped.
Mostly, because he knew that he was the cause.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
It was the best he could offer.
“Diego would like to see you, though,” Rose murmured.
“Even though he never wants to talk to me when I call?”
“Because he’s scared. He knows you’re going to have to hang up again … he doesn’t want to say goodbye a second time, Ren. He’s almost nine years old, but he’s not stupid, and he hasn’t forgotten everything that happened. Keep that in mind.”
Well, then …
Fuck.
“I’ll come over for dinner,” he promised.
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, whenever you want. Also, I’ll give you the number to my hotel room. If you’re free tomorrow, give me a call and we’ll work something out for that, too.”
He still couldn’t give her the cell number he used—The League let him call his siblings, they weren’t allowed the same, unfortunately.
Rose smiled brilliantly. “Yeah, okay.”
• • •
As easily as it had been for Renzo to agree to dinner with Rose and Diego, his nerves decided to make an appearance as soon as he was standing outside of his sister’s place later in the day. He couldn’t place why, exactly, but it was there.
Maybe because it had been so long.
Maybe for Diego …
Maybe because this was the universe’s way of reminding Renzo that no matter who or what he was now, he was still fucking human. And the universe had come around to kick him in the ass with something like anxiety just because it needed a good laugh.
Who fucking knew?
He wanted to see his brother, though. He greatly wanted to spend more time with Rose because honestly, he didn’t know how long this trip was going to last. Who knew, Cree might just get pissed off enough that he would come after Renzo to bring him back, or put him back to work. Or shit, he might send someone else to do the job.
Either way, how long he was able to stay here was contingent on a lot of things that he had absolutely no control over. If he didn’t go up there tonight—whether he was fucking nervous or not—then he didn’t know when he would get another chance.
When his contract was up, sure … if he stayed alive that long.
Christ.
His thoughts were morbid tonight.
Renzo finished the smoke he’d been using as a way to take the edge off, and stubbed it before dropping it into his pocket. Now or never … He hadn’t thought to call up and let Rose know he was downstairs, but that was mostly because he was trying to stay off the phone when it came to his sister. At least, then, the fuckers back at The League wouldn’t think his family was the one and only reason he headed to New York when he should have been working. Sure, he could have used a payphone but fuck it.
Next time …
Coming around the corner of his sister’s building, he headed for the front entrance. He planned on just getting Rose to buzz him in, but as he came up to the front door, something made him hesitate.
Something made him stop.
Maybe it was the buzz that drifted over his skin.
Or the way his fine hairs stood up on end.
Like his nerves just knew.
Knew to stop.
Knew to look.
Knew she was there.
Renzo glanced over his shoulder as a cab pulled up on the other side of the street, and sure enough, he watched Lucia step out of the back of the yellow car. Holy fucking shit—his heart probably stopped right then and there, he couldn’t be sure. It was like the whole fucking world tilted, and put itself on the correct axis again.
Oh, sure, he’d known for a long time that he was living the wrong way—that everything about life just felt off. He knew it was because he was without her, but he’d become comfortable in this, sort of. He’d gotten used to feeling this way, and the sudden shift set him off balance. It took him entirely too long to blink out of it.
He wasn’t surprised that she was at his sister’s place—he knew Lucia kept in contact with Rose and Diego, when she could. Rose filled him in on that, but she promised to never mention him to Lucia. Not that she talked to him about Lucia, or anything else.
She couldn’t.
Those fucking rules …
Fucking hell.
God.
She looked beautiful.
Just the same.
And yet, wonderfully new and different. That picture in the file had not done her justice.
Renzo didn’t even have the time to appreciate seeing Lucia for the first time in almost five years. Not when she looked up, and all at once, her gaze connected with his across the street. Her eyes didn’t widen, and she didn’t act like she was seeing him. It was as though, for a brief moment, she was staring past him.
Or … like maybe she was seeing a ghost.
Her mouth opened like she might say something, and her brow dipped. She started to raise a single hand toward him when all of the sudden, the cab she had stepped out of pulled off into the street, taking her attention away. She looked that way to watch the cab drive off, and Renzo fucking panicked.
Rules.
Those goddamn rules had been beaten into him—five years, that was the damn deal. She wasn’t even supposed to be in New York! Why was she here?
Before he could think better of it, he slipped back around the building. By the time Lucia looked his way again, he was already gone. He watched her shoulders drop, but he couldn’t think on it for long.
His panic was far more relevant.
What would The League do if this was the rule he broke? God knew he broke every other one they set out for him, or at the very least, bent the rules enough to earn himself a punishment. But this one? Her? That was the line they drew in the sand, and made sure he understood it well.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
His soul was screaming.
It wanted to go back—to her.
His brain was louder.
He headed down the street.
Away from her, and his family.
Just … away.
SIX
Lucia couldn’t breathe.
Oh, God.
She couldn’t fucking breathe.
She felt frozen on the side of the road. Standing just beyond the sidewalk, people blew behind her going in all directions. She could see people walking on the other side of the street, too. Going to somewhere, or coming from something. She didn’t know, but they all seemed to be moving in slow motion.
Her world had slowed.
Almost stopped.
Like her heart.
She was sure her manicured fingernails were digging crescent marks into her palms, but fuck, she couldn’t feel anything. Nothing but the beats of her heart. A thump-thump-thumping beat that felt like it was about to pulse its way right out of her chest, if it were possible.
She couldn’t hear anything, either. The city had seemed so loud to her that day. Almost two weeks in New York, and for whatever reason, the city came alive more than ever. And just like that, with a split second, it turned into nothing. No noise; nothing. There was only a rushing in her ears—her blood, she knew.
She had seen him.
Didn’t she?
She saw Renzo.
He was different, sure. Gone was the young man, and in his place was someone else who looked like him and stood like he used to. Gone was that leather jacket that he told her once he had won in a bare-knuckle boxing match. In its place was a new leather jacket full of zippers and opened so she could see the barest hint of ink peeking out at his th
roat. Strong features dusted with dark facial hair, and eyes so fucking expressive.
Those eyes hadn’t changed.
Even from all the way across the street, it had been his eyes that she noticed first.
Hadn’t it been him?
It had to be him.
Where had he gone?
Lucia felt like she had suddenly walked into the Twilight Zone, and absolutely nothing felt right or made sense. She knew that she probably looked like an idiot standing there on the side of the street staring across as though a ghost had just crossed her line of vision.
But that’s exactly what it felt like, too.
He was the fucking ghost.
A ghost from her past.
Sort of.
Renzo couldn’t be from her past when he had never left her mind, right? He still felt like a constant presence in her life every single day. He was never far from her thoughts. He was always in her heart, even though it felt empty, too.
God.
She couldn’t date because this man had ruined everything for her. Sex, men … love. All of it. She didn’t even try.
Her mind screamed move.
Her body didn’t.
She closed her eyes, and opened them again, looking away from the passing cab to stare across the street, only to find it was empty. Coming to visit Rose had been a last-minute decision—she kept in contact with Renzo’s younger sister just because she felt like it was the right thing to do. Sometimes, she didn’t call as often as she wanted to, and she certainly didn’t get to visit as much as she should, but Rose had never said anything one way or another.
And Diego …
That kid couldn’t wait to get on the phone with her. He could chat for hours about the most mundane things, but Lucia didn’t care. She would sit there and listen to him go on and on as long as he wanted her to listen.
She figured that since she was in the city, the least she could do was stop by. Especially as she still wasn’t sure when she was going back to Cali.
But she had not been expecting to see …