Kiss & Control: A Mafia Romance Page 20

  “Make it quick,” I sigh, ready for what’s coming. I earned it. “Spare the face, will you? Ma deserves one of her sons to have an open casket.”

  An asteroid of a lump lodges in my chest when Nole’s face flashes through my mind. He died with his face stretched in horror, like he couldn’t believe I shot him. But it had to be done. Forever the coward, he slaughtered Aidan in his bed as he slept. Hell, he was trying to kill me. Eva.

  Eva.

  “How’s Eva?” I might as well ask before it’s all over. Die with a little good news for the long road to hell.

  “Evangelina,” he snaps, his jaw clenched hard enough that he might crack a tooth. “Stay away from my daughter, and you’ll live.”

  I trust that promise as much as I trust Pop when he swears he’ll only have two drinks at dinner. “How is she?”

  “Fine. We’re waiting on discharge forms, and we’ll be on our way home.”

  Despite the cocktail of drugs running through my veins, panic hits my chest like a lightning bolt. “You can’t leave her alone!” He needs to take her off the radar entirely.

  He waves me off, wiping a piece of lint from his button-down shirt. “She’s resting with two armed hospital guards who have no affiliation to me. Torin was clear in his instructions. We spoke a second time a short time ago after Evangelina informed me of the insider problem.”

  “You can’t take her home. It isn’t safe.” I don’t care if I have to kidnap her myself with one goddamn arm this time around. I won’t let her step foot on the Lombardi property. Who knows what Nolan promised someone to kill her?

  He rubs at his temple, his cheeks flushing red. His once carefully coiffed hair has seen better days, the black strands wild and streaked with gray. He must’ve stopped touching them up since the funeral. “You’re right. A shithole cabin in the woods is a better idea.”

  “It kept her alive.” She wasn’t the happiest camper in the forest, but I did my best with what I had available to me. It’s hard to compete with a three-million-dollar estate. But I refuse to fluff his ego and admit it. He has enough of a hard-on over himself.

  His lip twitches with a smile. “You’re argumentative for someone whose life I’m sparing.”

  “If you’d kill a man for saving your daughter, that’s your problem, not mine.”

  His smile spreads, revealing white teeth that are too perfect to be real. Everything about this guy creeps me the hell out. Fake, fake, and more fake. “You and I need to catch up and swap information. We didn’t talk much at the funeral. Well, other than you lying to my face about my dear daughter.”

  “I did what I had to do to keep her safe. If I told you I had her tucked away somewhere, you would’ve killed me before I left the cemetery.”

  He rubs a hand along his jaw as if he needs to ponder the thought. “Probably.”

  “Let’s start at the beginning of this clusterfuck. What happened during your meet with Shea the morning of Aidan’s murder?”

  Pop will never tell me the truth. Especially now that Nolan’s gone. I’ll be nothing more than Cain in his eyes. The wicked son. And I still get to break that news to him and Ma if Torin hasn’t already.

  Antonio lets out a gravelly laugh. “A tip floated in that you were trying to kill him. I think we can now deduce where that came from by a process of elimination. Well, your elimination.”

  “Why the fuck…?” I never hurt Nole. He’s my twin. Was my twin. I have to live with what I did for the rest of my life. Why would he start rumors about me trying to off Pop?

  “Come on, Fallon. Think like a bitch. He’d inherit the kingdom, kid. He didn’t want to share a single drop of your drunken daddy’s affection.” He reaches down, lifting a flask from his belt. “And your daddy, Jesus, I’ve never seen a man more ready to shit himself then when I told him. You really pulled a gun on Shea Tully at ten-years-old and lived to tell the tale?”

  Pop believed him. He thought I’d hatch a plan to kill him? Like the bottle won’t rob him of his liver and life sooner rather than later. Like I want any of the ruins he’s set to leave behind. His own sons killed one another. What kind of fucking legacy is that?

  I study the tube sunken in my hand, a thin layer of tape keeping it in place. Hopefully, it doesn’t mean I have to stay the night. I need to get to the cabin and start making phone calls. “He told you that?”

  I doubt Pop ever told Ma that story. Probably threatened his men about blabbing, too. No one’s ever brought it up other than Nolan. It’s the eternal elephant in the room.

  He laughs, tilting the flask to his lips for a swig. “Juiciest bit of gossip I’ve heard in ages. Then your bitch of a brother called that night claiming your daddy gave Evangelina to the Bratva bastards. He wanted me to off old Shea, too. Messy son of a bitch. No one ever told him that lies catch up to you. One’s okay. Two’s a little tricky. But once you layer them like bricks, all it takes is one little leak to take down the wall of bullshit.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why one of your men would work with Nolan.”

  He offers a sip from his flask that I refuse. “Doesn’t explain why you snatched Chuckie and Perla, either. Carlo Ricci has been up my ass about his kid for over a week. Where is she?”

  “Last I heard, Chuckie was headed to a doctor with a hole in his gut, courtesy of Nolan. Perla… didn’t make it.”

  He lets out a shaky breath and downs a few gulps. “Motherfucker.”

  “I need to tell her.” I glance between him and the door leading to the hall.

  “No.” He rubs at his chin, the stubble scratching against his skin like sandpaper. “Not tonight.”

  “Before you leave. Please. I need to tell her.” This will solidify that she needs to run—not walk—away from me. Her not shooting me dead in the cabin was a mistake. I shouldn’t be in this bed right now. I don’t deserve it.

  He puffs his chest out, ready to throw on his tough-guy front. “She just got out of surgery, and…”

  “She’s a big girl. She can handle the truth. Besides, she’ll hate my guts forever.”

  She needs to if she wants a shot at life. I know he can’t say no to that.

  And he doesn’t.

  24

  Eva

  Papa breezes back in my hospital room as I’m stuffing a piece of candy in my mouth, a bite-sized Snickers that my nurse, Ashley, smuggled to me while he was out taking a walk. Like I’m stupid and don’t know that he’s checking on Fallon and calling every man on his staff.

  I promptly choke on the piece when Fallon strolls in behind him, his arm in a sling with a row of angry-looking stitches stretch across the right side of his face. He’s back in street clothes, unlike me, my outfit from the cabin replaced with a gown that leaves no secrets around back. At least somebody thought to bring him a change of clothes.

  “Someone would like to talk to you,” Papa announces, pausing by the door. He looks from me to Fallon with hard eyes. “Make it quick.”

  Fallon nods, and Papa heads back into the hall, his presence still sucking the air out of the room despite the door closing behind him.

  Fallon looks good, all things considered. He has pink in his cheeks, an upgrade from the pasty white shade earlier, and the blood—our blood—that covered him is gone.

  We stare at one another for an uncomfortably long pause until I finally speak up. “Nice sling.”

  His feet stay planted in his spot by the door. “Thanks. Only had to get shot to get it.”

  “Make it easier on me, please. Come a little closer. I’m working with one eye here.” I point to the ballooning side of my face, the result of his brother’s pistol whip.

  The doctor said it’s a broken orbital bone and that the swelling will eventually go down, but right now, I’m stuck talking to the man I crave like water after a stint in the desert while looking like Sloth from the Goonies. It’s not my proudest moment, but I’ll take what I can get. I don’t know when I’ll see him again. If I’ll see him again.

  He li
stens, drifting in and stopping at the foot of the bed until I gesture to the chair Papa vacated before his walk. Patrol, really. He hesitates, but sits when I keep pointing at it like a madwoman.

  “Thank you, Fallon.” It still feels bizarre to say his name aloud. Fallon. I like it. I have the worst urge to hobble over to Ashley’s whiteboard and write Eva and Fallon a hundred times over like a grade school crush.

  He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck with his free arm and wincing in pain. “Don’t thank me.”

  “You saved my life.” My life. My virginity. My corpse from things I never want to hear again. He deserves a lot more than a thank you, but he needs to wait until I have my own money. I refuse to touch Papa’s now more than ever. Hopefully Perla’s ready to get that apartment together she always blabbed about in high school. The one that's always seemed out of reach.

  “I told you, it’s my job.”

  Bullshit. He can say it until he’s blue in the face, and I still won’t believe him.

  I narrow my functioning eye at him. “Your job was to bring me chicken piccata and kiss me?”

  I expect him to volley back, to score a spike at my expense about how I threw myself at him, but he doesn’t. He remains silent, his eyes fixed on the bandage covering where the IV stuck in my hand a little while ago.

  “I have bad news.”

  Here it goes. Papa probably let him know that he can find him anywhere and make him disappear. He does that with any guy in a half-block radius of me except for Dario.

  “What is it? Did my father threaten you? Ignore him. I’m moving out with Perla. He can pound rocks.”

  I won’t tell Papa my new address. I won’t tell anyone. It’s not like Mama or Nikki will care, either. Neither of them bothered to show up tonight. And to think I would’ve given anything to see any of them a few hours ago.

  His jaw clenches, and he speaks through tight lips. “You’re not moving out with Perla.”

  “Shut it. Don’t you boss me around, too. I’ll move in with Perla and get a job. Maybe you can help me find something. I’ve never had one before.” It’s a little embarrassing to admit at twenty, but embarrassment is already out the window. He’s seen me at my worst.

  “Perla’s dead, Eva.”

  Ashley said they gave me the good shit when she removed my IV. She wasn’t kidding. I shake my head, sure I’m hearing things. “What was that?”

  “Perla is dead.” He delivers it louder this time. More forceful. More serious.

  “You said Papa had her,” I drawl, blinking rapidly. He’s confused. There’s a kink in the information pipeline somewhere. Papa has her, and he’s mixing her up with someone else.

  “Nolan grabbed them after your father let them go. Someone tipped him off in advance. He knew exactly where they’d be.”

  “No, no, no, no!” I point at him, rage making my finger shake. “Stop playing around. I can’t take anymore of this today.”

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. My heart wants to leap out of my chest and throat-punch him right now. He can’t joke about Perla. He can’t joke about death. I’ve seen enough for one lifetime today with front-row seats.

  His eyes mirror the ache in my chest. “It’s not a joke, Eva. She’s dead.”

  Perla can’t be dead. She’s my best friend. My favorite pain in the ass. My shopping buddy and boy-crazy confidant. The only person who makes me feel human in the Lombardi bubble.

  Denial tries to fend them off, but the tears rain down. This doesn’t feel like my body. My story. My reality.

  His lips find my forehead with a soft, lingering kiss.

  As he leans back into the chair, I lose sight of him when the tears flood the room in a blur. I’m so caught up in it that I didn't see him slip out of the door.

  Out of my life.

  25

  Fallon

  The sunrise cuts over the horizon as I walk out of the hospital’s front doors. Leaving is against medical advice and will cost a small fortune, but there’s no point spending any more time in its walls. I’m patched up with a dozen stitches in my face, a few dozen more in my shoulder, and a splinted arm that’s now throbbing since the pain meds are wearing off.

  I have shit to do. Calls to make. Jobs to run.

  Not to mention, I have a hell of a mess to clean up at the cabin.

  And then there are my parents. Fuck.

  Pop might shoot me dead on the spot, but Ma needs to hear the truth from me. I need to own what I did. If Pop taught me anything, it’s taking control, even if he’s long given the reins over to whiskey. At least if he kills me, I won’t have to pay the medical bills for Nolan’s fire powered kiss to my shoulder and face.

  A whistle catches my attention.

  It’s Torin leaning against his truck, double-parked in an employee of the month parking slip. He’s looking between me and the looming structure where doctors sewed me back together all night like Humpty Dumpty. “Aw, you’re going to be an Irish Tony Montana with that scar,” he cracks, gesturing to his cheek. “Wrong side, but we’ll pretend.”

  I ignore him, heading to the passenger side to climb in. He’s lucky I need him to get back to my vehicle, otherwise I’d tell him and his jokes to go fuck themselves.

  “Don’t be a piss ass,” he grumbles, sliding behind the wheel.

  I open the door and cock my head at the pristine seats. Blood coated nearly every surface when we rolled in last night. “How did you…?”

  He rolls his eyes, starting the truck. He bumps up the heat to accommodate my current lack of clothes, the t-shirt and jeans he gave me hardly suitable for a late fall morning in the mid-Atlantic. “Don’t ask questions.” Almost to put an exclamation point behind that statement, he reaches under the seat and plucks out a zippered sweatshirt and tosses it over. “Stick one arm in and drape it over the other.”

  I slide a reluctant arm into the cotton jacket, gritting my teeth as I rest the opposite side over my injured shoulder. This injury is going to be a bitch while it heals. “What are you, a fucking magician?”

  He backs out of the slip. “I’m prepared for anything. You should be, too.”

  “Sorry, the whole brother-trying-to-kill-me-slash-make-me-out-to-be-a-murderer thing threw me for a fucking loop, Tor.” It still has me reeling, sitting here in the relative calm of his truck, struggling to take it all in. The sheer amount of loss in such a short time overloading every system. Aidan. Nolan. Eva.

  I lean into the seat, tilting my head toward the ceiling. Fuck.

  We drive along in silence, Torin cutting through the quiet suburban streets to the highway while I piece together what I have left to go home to. Ma. My apartment. A handful of our men who might still talk to me after shooting my twin through the heart. Not exactly a lot to work with.

  The nearest hospital to the cabin sits by the shore, the area desolate other than locals this time of year. As kids, we’d vacation in nearby Ocean City, splashing in the waters of one of New Jersey’s few dry shore towns. I know Ma chose it because Pop could only drink what he’d fit in a cooler, and she’d secretly dump out bottles when he passed out on the balcony, frying in the sun and bitching at us later when he woke up looking like a lobster.

  It’s a long drive back to the cabin, one that skims the shoreline and eventually dips into the forest again. Perfect for nodding off. But I can’t sleep. Not like this.

  Torin knows it, too, eyeing me after a good ten minutes of coasting down the highway. “So you’re sweet on the Lombardi girl?”

  Maybe I should’ve faked a nap. “I’m not sweet on anyone.”

  He grins. “If you looked at me like you look at her, I’d pop you in the fucking mouth and take out a restraining order,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I got pregnant just watching you.”

  “I’ll take you to the clinic,” I deadpan, and he throws his head back with a laugh.

  “You must have a magic cock. That girl has stars in her eyes for you, too.”

  No fucking shit. That’s exactly
why I want her to hate me. I’m everything she doesn’t need. She’s confused and scared, and hopefully she’ll realize it sooner rather than later.

  “You’re talking nonsense,” I mutter, wishing I had a sleeping pill. At least it’d earn me some quiet time, a break from him and the thoughts whirling in my head.

  “Hey, it’s not the craziest shit I’ve seen,” he says with a shrug. “Ma would like her. She’s got balls of steel.”

  “Would you drop it?” He’s bringing on a headache I didn’t have before.

  “I have to admit, I’m surprised you went there.” He cuts into the right line, illegally passing a minivan. “Mr. Maintain Control let his dick slip and fall into a hot piece of ass.”

  Hearing him talk about Eva like a fuck toy makes my blood boil. She isn’t a piece of ass. “I didn’t stick my dick in her.” I would’ve, though. I would’ve fucked her and regretted it like she would once she came down from the loneliness of the cabin. I won’t be a mistake she regrets. I won’t let her be a regret of mine, either.

  “You want to.”

  My eyes drift from him to the passing marshland, realizing he missed the turnoff to the country road cutting into the Pines. I glance back at him, unease pricking the hairs on the back of my neck. “Where are we going? The cabin’s back...”

  His attention stays glued on the road ahead and he signals to turn on the expressway. “Home. The cabin’s already taken care of. Nole will be ready for his funeral. Ma just needs to give me the information.”

  I eye him, grabbing the oh-shit handle when he takes the turn a little too sharply. “I don’t know how to contact you.”

  “We’re talking to them together, Fally.” He grips the wheel, white-knuckling the leather for a moment before patting it soothingly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

  The truck eases into my parents’ driveway a little after 8AM; the concrete crusted with ice melt residue.