Blood Always

by Ramsower, Jill

  As her shuddering subsided, I scooped her into my arms and settled us onto the couch. I didn’t push her to talk. Her limits had been reached for the night, and I was confident that her intimation about another man had been purely fabricated to keep me at bay. Instead, I offered her what comfort I could provide with my presence and kept my thoughts to myself.

  I’d known members of the Gallo family had been involved in the death of her brother, but I hadn’t expected her to still hold that so staunchly against us. That had happened back at the start of the war in 2002—seventeen years ago. It was a bloody time period for everyone involved. So why had Maria held onto her steadfast hate of the Gallos after so many years?

  She had to know I wasn’t remotely involved in her brother’s death. I’d only been a new recruit when it happened. A grunt soldier making money runs and working for my father.

  Her hardened exterior made it clear she’d known heartbreak in her short life. I just hadn’t realized how deep those wounds still ran. That was why she pushed people away. Why she didn’t gossip with the other girls in her family. Why she had become a made woman at an early age. Why she cleaned guns in her spare time and could put me in a chokehold before I knew what was happening.

  She was savagely broken, doing the best she could to remain whole.

  But she was mine now. Mine to devour and mine to protect.

  In order to do that, I would need to know what threatened her most. Swim in those same waters that drowned her, so I could keep her afloat the next time it rained.

  She wouldn’t like it.

  She would resist facing those demons, but it was the only way. Once she was fully exposed and vulnerable, I could rebuild her walls, with me securely inside them.

  ***

  I met Enzo for lunch two days later. I’d debated inviting Maria but decided her absence would give me a better opportunity to learn more about my complicated bride-to-be.

  After her tears had subsided, she had passed out in my arms. I watched her sleep far longer than I should have, then slipped out from beneath her. I penned a short note before leaving but hadn’t heard from her since.

  Our exchange had been so volatile and poignant that we were both in need of time and space to regroup. A shift had occurred in the dynamic between us. I wasn’t sure it could be called a truce. We certainly weren’t friends. It was more like a ceasefire until further peace terms could be negotiated.

  In the meantime, I would learn what I could about her and prepare a plan of attack.

  “I apologize for running late,” offered Enzo as he joined me at my table. “I received an unexpected report that required my attention. It seems Sal may have hooked up with the cartels in his efforts to flee.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “It’s speculative, but our contacts in Kansas City identified two members of the Vagos MC in town. They normally stick to the west coast and Mexico, so their appearance was noteworthy. Their ties run deep with the cartels. As far as the Kansas City outfit could tell, the bikers were only in town a handful of days. It could be purely coincidence, but something tells me it’s not.”

  Fuck. The cartels were bad fucking news.

  “If he’s brought Mexico into this, we have much bigger problems than getting our people to befriend one another.”

  “I know, but until we have any more leads, it’s all just speculation. We haven’t even been able to verify Sal was still in Kansas City at the time. For now, we wait and listen.”

  Normally, patience wasn’t an issue for me, but something about Sal made me itch to take action. He was conniving and vindictive—unpredictable on a good day and utterly soulless at his worst. He had plotted against his best friend and betrayed his own family. There was no predicting what a man like that might do, and that was infinitely more dangerous than most threats we faced.

  I shared a hard, knowing look with Enzo before the waitress interrupted and took our orders.

  “The engagement announcement went well,” he offered, a questioning lilt to his words. He wasn’t the type to pry but was clearly curious about how his oldest daughter and I were getting along.

  “The feedback I received was surprisingly positive. Our families may be wary of an alliance, but they are not altogether against it. As for Maria, I think she’s coming around, but I’m afraid the loss of her brother made an indelible impression upon her.” Like Enzo, I had questions I wouldn’t ask outright. All I could do was hint at the subject and hope he’d give me some insight. Even asking a question was a source of information—revealing details about my interest and knowledge. We’d both spent our lives holding our cards tightly to our chests. Despite our desire to ally with one another, neither of us was prepared to lay down our hand.

  Enzo took a sip of his water, remorse tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She was nine when Marco was killed. She’d never been the parent pleaser her sisters were. It wasn’t uncommon to get calls from the principal about her behavior or to have to ground her for acting up at home, but when Marco died, it all got exponentially worse. The two were only eighteen months apart. Maria was somewhat of a tomboy, always wrestling with him or challenging him to a race. We were all affected by his loss, but she seemed to take it the hardest. When things didn’t get better, I decided to bring her into our world. She was only twelve, but she wasn’t made for a white picket fence like the other girls. She fell in love with guns and Krav Maga, spending all her extracurricular time at the studio. Between her work with me and her training, she eventually became more disciplined, but it’s a constant struggle for her.” His fingers toyed with the end of his fork as he paused, eyes boring into mine. “I know she’s not the easiest of women to get along with, but she possesses an unparalleled loyalty and devotion if you’re willing to earn it. There’s a reason I chose her to be your wife, and it wasn’t simply to make your life miserable. I think you may be one of the few men who could dig deep enough to reach her. Manage that task, and you’ll never regret it.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Hearing him talk, I felt somewhat like I’d been offered the keys to a brand-new sports car, only to discover it needed extensive engine work. When I had agreed to an arranged marriage, I had expected a wife, not a social services project. Yes, I’d gathered she was more complicated than most, but I was quickly learning Maria’s quirks ran far deeper than I had assumed.

  The challenge I’d taken on had turned from sexual conquest to something altogether more dangerous. Something personal and intimate. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Maria was more than beautiful—she was every man’s fucking fantasy. But I’d been on my own since I was fifteen. I had family, but I answered only to myself and my boss. No woman had ever wrenched her way into my heart. The only time I’d even considered letting someone in, there were catastrophic consequences.

  “I hope I haven’t overwhelmed you,” Enzo added with a wry grin. “I only meant to explain that Maria was worth the effort. Just take it day by day—that’s all any of us can do.”

  I’d been so lost in my head that I hadn’t realized I’d gone silent. “Not at all, just processing the information. Considering the strides we’ve made in a short time, I have no doubt Maria and I will find a groove soon enough.” It was the only option—our marriage was a done deal. Now the question was whether our groove would involve separate bedrooms with locks on the doors or breakfast in bed and shower sex. I figured the odds were fifty-fifty.

  “Has Maria mentioned Sunday dinner?”

  “No, I don’t think she has.”

  “My wife insists the girls join us for dinner on Sundays. I’m not sure how she’s managed to coerce them all into showing up each week, but they do. You should come.”

  “If Maria hasn’t mentioned it, I would assume that means she doesn’t want me there.”

  “What Maria thinks she wants and what Maria actually wants are two different things. However, neither are relevant here since I’m the one inviting you.” The corners of his eyes creased, and mi
schief lit his otherwise stony gaze.

  “Well, then. I suppose I’ll see you on Sunday.” I lifted my water in his direction, unable to stop a chuckle when I envisioned Maria learning I’d be joining them.

  The remainder of lunch was spent on lighter topics—plans for future gatherings and possible business ventures. The more time I spent with him, the more I respected the man. It was a shame he’d left his operation in Sal’s hands for as long as he had. I was far too familiar with how much damage could be done when the wrong individual was calling the shots. Enzo’s outfit and reputation had taken a sizeable hit, but with his intelligence and business sense, I had no doubt he’d be back on top in no time.

  When I left the restaurant, I saw I had a missed call from Diego. The moment I was in my car, I dialed his number.

  “How did the meet go with Jimmy?” I asked the moment he answered.

  I’d sent him to talk to Jimmy Byrne, ringleader of the Boston Irish. Diego had been friendly with Jimmy’s father years ago, and I’d hoped their relationship would help negotiations. The Irish had full control of the meth market in Boston and most of Philly. I wanted to propose a business arrangement, but the Irish were notorious for two things: one, they came unhinged when provoked (and sometimes for no reason at all), and two, they rarely worked with outsiders.

  In his ten years as boss, Angelo had nearly destroyed our reputation with other organizations in New York. I had hoped reaching out to the Irish, who focused their business outside the city, might lead to a viable working relationship.

  “Not great. Jimmy sent a couple of his boys. They said as long as Angelo was still in office, their answer was no. Said he was too unpredictable, if you can believe that. Fucking Irish. They got the market cornered on unpredictable.”

  I was disappointed, but not surprised. “It was a longshot, but worth trying. Thanks for talking to them.”

  “This needs to end, Matteo. I know you were good leaving things the way they were, but something’s gotta give. As Consigliere, it’s my job to advise, and this is me telling you … it’s time.”

  “I know. I’ve been working on a plan. He’ll be in California this month—it’ll happen then.”

  “Good.” Silence filled the line, and I started to wonder if we’d lost connection. “It’s for the best. You tell me how I can help, and I’ll do what I can.”

  “Let’s just hope the building doesn’t come down around us.”

  “We won’t let that happen without a fight.”

  “Later, Diego.”

  “Yeah.” The line went dead, and I clenched the phone in my hand. As if one major transition wasn’t enough, my world was about to get that much more difficult.

  ***

  “I told you not to show up at my place unannounced. Do you have some kind of learning disability or something?” Maria crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her full breasts up beyond the cut of her blouse.

  I could have told her I was coming, but where would the fun have been in that?

  “I’m here to pick you up. It’s time to head to your parents’ house for dinner.”

  Her lips parted in a full circle, sending a surge of blood to my dick. “You’re inviting yourself to our family dinner? How did you even know about it?”

  I was trying not to laugh, but her tantrum was almost too much. “I had lunch with your father on Friday. He invited me. Now get your shit together so we can go.”

  The withering look she gave me could have shriveled a rose to dust—a promise of pain and destruction. She positively vibrated with anger, lightening crackling in her silver eyes. But she didn’t launch herself at me as I was sure she wanted to—a testament to her practiced restraint. She simply turned on her heel, grabbed her purse in a white-knuckled grip, and glared at me.

  I hid an amused chuckle behind a cough.

  Our forty-five-minute drive to her parents’ house on Staten Island was devoid of conversation, which suited me just fine. I had a lot on my mind, and the car ride was the perfect opportunity to organize my thoughts.

  We were the last to arrive at the house. Judging by their array of expressions, her sisters and their men had not been informed we were coming. I shook hands with Nico first, then Sofia, who smiled politely. I had no history with them, so our introductions were casual and respectful.

  Alessia and Luca, on the other hand, were a different matter.

  “You remember, Alessia, I’m sure,” Enzo offered in greeting. “And this is her boyfriend, Luca. He’s a Russo man.”

  I offered my hand to Alessia, and while she clasped my hand in return, her face went porcelain white.

  “It’s good to see you doing well.” The last time I’d seen her, Diego’s cousin from Sicily had taken it upon himself to extract revenge for the death of Diego’s son by nearly killing her with hundreds of cuts all over her body. She’d been naked and covered in blood when I found her. My presence clearly reminded her of that horrific scene months before, but there was little to be done about it. I was marrying into this family. Alessia would have to get used to seeing me.

  When I shook hands with Luca, distrust and accusation swam in his black irises. I wasn’t sure whether he was more bothered by the fact that I’d seen his woman naked or the fact that a man from my family had been the one to hurt his woman.

  A little of column A, and a little of column B.

  Either way, his message was clear—I would not be earning his favor anytime soon.

  “Luca,” I said with a curt nod. I wasn’t about to grovel for his approval.

  He shook my hand without a word, the silence between us as sharp and deadly as any blade.

  “All right everyone, dinner’s on the table!” Carlotta called, slicing through the tension in the room.

  We all turned toward the dining room. My hand naturally migrated to Maria’s lower back as we walked. Her spine stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. When we took our seats, I ended up between Maria and Alessia, much to Luca’s visible irritation.

  We took turns passing the salad, and Carlotta attempted to ease into conversation with small talk, but the sticky awkwardness in the room refused to dissipate.

  I wasn’t the type of man who caved to the pressure to apologize for anything. My family had been fully owed blood for the loss of one of our own. If anything, the Genovese’s owed me a word of thanks for bringing Alessia home alive. However, as much as it pained me to concede anything, it was easier to smooth things over now than to suffer through the awkwardness for a minute longer.

  When a break in the conversation arrived, I turned to Alessia and extended an olive branch. “I know it doesn’t change what you went through, but Rico is no longer alive.”

  Knives and forks stilled. The weight of everyone’s stares danced between Alessia and I.

  “I heard, and I have to say I was relieved.”

  Luca piped in with a muttered grumble. “Too bad it was a quick ending—he deserved far worse.”

  “I can’t imagine being run down by a truck was pleasant.” I probably should have allowed him his anger without comment, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Before Luca could retort, Maria cut in nonchalantly. “That’s what you get for being too drunk to see straight.”

  “An interesting assumption.” I lifted my wine glass casually. “I don’t believe his blood alcohol levels were released to the public.”

  She shrugged a shoulder, finishing a bite of salad lackadaisically. “I thought surely I’d read that somewhere.” Her eyes lifted to mine, a sensual lashing of defiance.

  So, the kitten had claws.

  My little lynx had been the one to orchestrate Rico’s death. Even more intriguing, we never would have known if she hadn’t blatantly admitted it. Her confession had been no accident. She wanted me to know.

  Maria had, yet again, managed to surprise me.

  I sipped from my wine, then smiled slow and wolf-like. “A lucky guess, then.”

  She lifted a perfectly sculpted brow as she pl
ucked a cherry tomato from her plate and sucked it between her lips, all without removing her gaze from mine. Challenge. Provocation.

  The thought of her punishment had my dick straining against my zipper. She’d killed a made man. Had there been others? Rico’s family would demand revenge if they had any idea, but they wouldn’t have the opportunity. I wasn’t about to tell them—that would just stir up trouble. This way, her suffering would be all mine.

  Sometimes it was good to be king.

  During our exchange, Carlotta had retrieved the main course, setting dishes on the table. “We have so many blessings in our lives recently, I say we focus on those. I’ve got two of my babies getting married soon, and that means wedding dress shopping!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I want all of us girls to go—is there a day this week that works?”

  When I glanced back at Maria, she looked like someone had spit in her wine. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to laugh out loud.

  “I could leave work early on Wednesday,” Alessia offered.

  Sofia chimed in next. “I’m working from home, so whenever works for me.”

  All eyes turned to Maria.

  “I … uh … guess Wednesday … um. Fuck. Sure.”

  Totally unfazed by Maria’s lack of enthusiasm, Carlotta squealed. The women spent the next half hour discussing gown styles, floral arrangements, and possible venues for Sofia’s wedding. I’d agreed at my lunch with Enzo to host Maria’s and my wedding at the Hampton estate, so that matter was already settled.

  Carlotta did the majority of the talking, but I got the sense that was a customary tradition in the Genovese house. Each individual played their role—Maria was the silent observer.

  A predator, ever vigilant and scheming.

  But I was the bigger bad—the lion to her lynx—and I was closing in for the kill.

  Chapter 7

  Maria

  “Who invited Giada?” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at Alessia when I spotted our cousin enter the bridal boutique. The two women were inseparable, so the question was redundant.