Gia
“I’m telling you, Marco, something is wrong!” I stepped in his path, blocking him from leaving the kitchen.
His dark eyes narrowed on me. “Goddamn it, girl. He does this. You two fight, and he runs off, as he has a tendency to do.”
Enzo would leave for a little while to cool off, sure, but he always came back. And if he was talking about when Enzo went upstate, did he forget I was there, too? He wouldn’t have gone without me.
“Will you just listen to me, Marco? It has to be the goddamn O’Rileys. They were the ones who shot at us!”
“How do you know?”
I swallowed. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but I just . . . it has to be them.”
“Enzo has plenty of enemies,” Marco snapped as he pushed past me.
“How are you so cavalier about this? He’s your brother!” I called as he walked away.
He didn’t respond, and he seemed like he couldn’t care less. It was maddening. If Enzo wasn’t home by the time it got dark, I would talk to my father. He wouldn’t care what happened to Enzo, but he cared about me, and maybe that would help.
Time ticked by, slow and dreadful. My mind raced. Was Enzo still alive? Was I chasing his ghost?
I dug through Enzo’s drawers, trying to find anything that might give me a clue. I most wanted to find the address to the Irish pricks. It wouldn’t be in with his deodorant and socks. I vaguely remembered the location of Jameson’s shop upstate. I’d remember if it was in front of my face, but not the way to get there. I caught a glimpse of something that made me look twice—a black cellphone, flat against the wall of the drawer. I picked it up, half expecting it to be a secret phone. It was worse. It was Bullseye’s fucking phone, the one I told him to throw in the river. I knew it was his because there was a big crack in the screen from Bullseye landing on it after Enzo shot him. A bullseye decal branded the back, and their family business logo sat in the corner. Yeah, it was his damn phone.
I pocketed the phone. Atheist whined before dropping his head to my lap. “I know, boy, I miss him, too. I’ll find him.” I would try to find him. No, I would find him. I just wasn’t sure if he’d be dead or alive. I patted Atheist’s silky head before getting up and putting on my jacket.
* * *
I pulled up to my father’s home. My home, though it felt less like it lately. I waved away guards as I pulled my car into the garage. My throat seemed to close up, as if warning me against this, but what choice did I have? If Enzo’s piece of shit brother didn’t care to help him, how did I expect my father to? He’d be aiding our relationship, which was something he didn’t believe in. This was the solution to my father’s problem, yet there I was, asking him to let go of animosity and years of rivalry to help me find Enzo. He’d happily let the problem sort itself out, even if it broke my heart.
A guard stopped me at the door leading into the house from the garage by putting the barrel of his rifle in my path. I gripped it and pushed it away from me. “Fuck off,” I snarled. He knew who I was. He knew I was still part of this family, even if I was fucking the enemy.
With purpose-filled steps, I walked down the long hallway and grabbed the doorknob, inhaling a deep breath before opening the door. I knew my father would be there because he did his best business once darkness fell and the house was quiet.
I spotted his salt-and-pepper hair creeping over the back of his chair. The door slammed behind me, forcing his attention my way. His face was equal parts happiness and disappointment. I was certain he never thought he’d see me fall for a rival in his lifetime. He probably hoped he’d be long dead before a travesty of that magnitude occurred.
“Daddy,” I said as I walked toward him.
His face softened with every step, as if he recognized me a little more the closer I got to him. It was a draw I knew he couldn’t overlook. I leaned into him and breathed in his scent. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around me.
“You wouldn’t come to me unless something was wrong,” he said as he lifted my chin to look into my eyes.
“It’s Enzo—” I began.
My father’s posture tensed at the name. “What’d he do to you?”
“No, no, he didn’t do anything to me.” I took a deep breath. “He’s missing, Daddy.”
“And?” His features tightened, becoming smug.
“I think the Irish have him. His brother’s a piece of shit, and—”
“Giovanna!” He stopped the words spilling from my lips with the harsh snap of my name. “Stop!” He put distance between us by standing and taking a few steps back.
“No, I need your help. I can’t find him myself. I mean, I will, but I’d rather not.”
His lips tightened. The fatherly bond was tightening its grip. He wouldn’t want his only daughter to go against the Irish by herself. I was pushing him into a corner to force his hand.
“He’s not my problem, Gia.”
I turned to leave, but poison brewed beneath my tongue. I turned back to him, spitting venom. “He killed the man who put the bounty on your head. So, you’re welcome.”
My father’s eyebrows drew together, his forehead wrinkling. “Who? Who was it?”
“Fucking Moretti.”
“Ugo?” He took a faltering step toward me, as if tripped by disbelief.
“Don’t look so surprised. You should have known it was him. Enzo just did what you wouldn’t.”
I took off for the door. My mind swirled with ways I could get Enzo back without the help of anyone else, but everything seemed like it’d end with my demise. But I had to try.
“Wait!” he called out. I shook the smile off my face before I turned to face him. “He really killed Ugo?”
“Tortured him, actually.”
“Damn it.” My father groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me about the Irish,” he said with a sigh as he sat down.
* * *
Enzo
The searing hot pain of another fist ripped beneath my rib cage and weakened my legs. I kept on my feet, though not by choice. A man on either side held me up. The one to the left wore a rabbit mask, and the man on the right wore the white, smiling face of Guy Fawkes. The leader of their little group donned a Halloween mask with lit X’s over the eyes and a bright, shit-eating grin across his mouth. A black hood covered his head and concealed every possible identifying feature. I could only see his hands and the shadow of his neck.
I spit blood to the floor, and a glob of it dripped from my chin as I panted through the pain. I could take punches. I fought for fun for a good portion of my life. I was never all that good about controlling my anger, especially once I got out of Silvio’s grasp. Everyone became an enemy, and I fought enemies. Because of that, my pain tolerance was much higher than anything these fucks could dish out—as long as they didn’t use tools.
“You know, you're supposed to ask questions and give me a chance to answer during these sessions.” I spat more blood to the floor.
“There’s nothing to ask. We know what you did.”
“Then just kill me? Don’t be such pussies about it.” I stared at the grotesque red smile on his mask.
“Where’s the fun in that, Mr. Viglione?”
“This is quite the party.” A humorless laugh followed my words.
He grabbed a bat from the table, swinging it as he stepped toward me. He stopped in front of me and lifted the bat to his shoulder. “You are so fucking ballsy for someone in your particular predicament. Has your father taught you nothing? You need to learn to give up and be fucking quiet.”
“Can’t say Silvio was ever really a quiet man.”
The man swung the bat, hitting me in the gut. I doubled over, choking on the air that rushed from my lungs. Blood-tinged drool fell down my chin, but the men at my sides kept a firm grip on my arms, so I couldn’t even wipe it away. Yeah, I should have shut up, but it was better to go out while being a fucking asshole. I’d have more respect for someone who did that instead of crying and praying with their last breaths. I’d rather use mine to tell him where he could shove that fucking bat.
“Are you done, Viglione?” He stepped into me once more, lifting me by my hair. “You’re lucky that Silvani girl was with her pops when we tried to get her. I would have loved the opportunity to show you what I would have done to her in front of you. Fuck, she’s perfect. My men are waiting for her, though, so I haven’t quite given up that dream yet.” He laughed. “I’d have stripped her ass naked and forced you to watch as I fucked her. A girl like her would come from it. And then I’d put a bullet through her head because none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for her.”
Gia had nothing to do with anything. Not directly, at least. If anything, she had tried to save Jameson by giving him her body. It was no one's fault but my own. I was certain they were the Irish. He’d given away too many things.
My dark, sadistic gaze met his eyes. Blood cascaded from my nose, staining my teeth when I spoke. I probably looked crazed. I was. He was lucky his goons held me back, because I’d have snapped his neck with my bare hands if I’d been given the opportunity.
He took a step back as the muscles in my body tensed and tightened. I leaped for him, dragging his men with me. I saw only that goddamn mask as I charged at him. His men reasserted their hold on me just before I could reach him.
“Fuck you,” I said, spitting blood on his mask. It dripped over the red LED lights.
He raised the bat again. The sleeve of his sweater rose up his arm and revealed a bandage wrapped around his forearm. It was the last thing I saw before the bat arced in slow motion through the air, aimed for my head.