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I squeeze Castor’s arm then cup my brother’s face. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I need to get him to a surgeon, Gia.” Castor lifts him and rushes outside. “Ace, we need to get him to Doc Rio, now.”
“Shit. C’mon, I’m driving.”
My hands are over my mouth as I say more silent prayers for my brother. A dark thought asks me why I think God would ever save someone as shitty as him. But I still have to try. He’s my blood. It wasn’t always like this between us.
I stand dumbfounded when Castor shuts the van door and Ace pulls away.
What’s left is two trucks of mobsters scoping out the street and doing various unthinkable tasks. Two lanky guys I think I’ve seen before drag the dead body into a car across the street while another guy scrubs blood from the sidewalk. Another is knocking on the neighbor’s door to assure them everything is okay, I imagine. There’s already a glass company truck coming down our block. I’m left dumbfounded. I’ve heard of clean-up crews, but this is insane.
Marco…
Please be okay.
Chapter 31
Gia
The next day, I’m still at my mother’s house, keeping myself busy cleaning all the debris off the dining room floor. I hug my mom and cry into her arms every thirty minutes or so, both from the trauma of being invaded, and for my brother – whose fate is still unknown.
He saved Castor.
The visual plays over and over in my mind, making me weep uncontrollably. The pit in my stomach, the panic, it’s all so vivid I’m constantly reliving the moment. If he really hated him – hated us – he would’ve let Castor die a bloody death. But he didn’t.
Once I’m done crying for the umpteenth time, I huff in front of the bathroom mirror, wipe down my blotchy face and head back into the living area.
Two mafia enforcers are keeping watch inside the house, while contractors rush to extract stray bullets from the ceiling and fill it in with plaster. They blacked out all the windows so they could work in case the police show up because of nosey neighbors.
So far, all has been quiet since.
Does everyone really know not to mess with my brother?
I’m really in awe at how much power those two wield. Their crew came in faster than an ambulance. Murder, clean up, and make everything look like it never happened.
Seeing Randy with his hands on his head near the sink makes me want to give him a big hug. The man didn’t hesitate to use his body as a shield for me and my mom. He may not be a tough guy, but he has plenty of courage.
Guilt plagues me as I inch into the kitchen to console him. “I’m sorry this happened.”
He shakes out of his stupor and extends an arm. “I knew what I was getting into when I met your mother, G. Just hoped it would never come to something like this.”
I fold into his massive embrace. He smells like deodorant and dishwasher soap, and warmth. Teddy bear warmth that I desperately need right now.
“Your brother is involved in some messed up stuff, but he’s got a good heart, I think.” He sniffs. “He’ll pull through, don’t worry.”
My bloodshot eyes barely have anything left at this point, but somehow, Randy drew up the last of a dried well.
Anger flares through me now and again. Is Castor careless about having so many enemies? I don’t know whether it’s his fault, my own, or a combination. Either way, if my brother doesn’t make it… gosh, I can’t think like that.
Biting down on my knuckles does nothing.
Castor ran into Normandy without a second thought, though. He protected my family. I can’t be too mad at him. At least he combats the demons he invites.
Fuck this mafia life.
I pace into my mother’s bedroom to find her sitting on the side of the bed, looking at a photo of Marco and me when we were little. “Momosa, I’m sorry. I feel like I caused this.”
She shakes her head, still gazing blankly at the photo. “You couldn’t possibly. An angel like you was born to weather the storms of your brother. All we can do for him now, is pray.”
