I close my eyes and hear gurgling. The last gasps of a dying man. Tears well up behind my eyelids and I pray this isn’t about to get worse.
“Cover your ears,” Massimo grunts. “Do it, now!”
Worse.Muchworse.
I open my eyes, and when Massimo raises the shotgun, I let go of him and cover my ears with both hands. I squeeze my eyes closed like that is going to help, too, and cower against his back. A muffled boom that sounds like an explosion echoes and I feel the recoil vibrate Massimo’s massive frame. I brace myself, waiting for more shots, but when they don’t come, I peek out of one eye and see the shotgun lowered. I lean around Massimo and see the men running toward the edge of the forest to our left. Except for one. His lifeless eyes and the limp hand clutching the corkscrew in his throat makes my stomach churn.
“I knew I should have put my Glock in the basket,” Massimo sighs, walking to the back of the Jeep and tossing the shotgun in. “Help me gather everything up. I don’t want to be standing around if they decide to come back with friends.”
“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a bit queasy as I pick up a few things. “Did you shoot one of them?”
“No, I just fired a warning shot,” he growls. “They’re locals. Probably in a gang. They rob tourists sometimes, but they’re usually harmless.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For not letting them take me.”
“You’re always safe with me,bambina,” he says, kicking the dead body out of the way before yanking my door open.
My nose wrinkles and I gag as I step over the blood. Massimo hoists me up and puts me in the Jeep, making sure my sneakers never touch the ground where the man fell. I’m grateful for it, even if getting some blood on my shoes would have been the least of my worries if he wasn’t here. Not that I would have come here alone. I’m glad I got to see the ruins and statues, but I’mokay if this is my only excursion during this trip. Being safely locked away in Massimo’s penthouse suite seems like a much better option.
“You alright?” Massimo asks as he gets into the Jeep and slams the door.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I’ve just never seen anyone die before. It happened so fast.”
“Just relax and breathe,” he instructs, then he starts the Jeep and pulls away, leaving the dead body on the ground. Once we are far enough away not to see the statues, Massimo pulls out his phone and dials a number. “Theo. I need a couple of your guys to take care of something for me. Yeah, near the statues. It’s a local, don’t worry. He tried to rob me.”
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, nor do I want to. Massimo killed someone right in front of me. But it was to protect me from whatever those men would have done, if they got their hands on me. I don’t even want to think about that.
I turn and look out the window once Massimo ends the call. I don’t feel as traumatized as I would expect to feel after something like that. It’s an odd feeling, really. Like justice has been carried out and the problem is over, yet there is lingering sadness that someone had to lose their life. Massimo is driving us back to the resort like nothing happened. He can get rid of a dead body with a phone call. That’s scary, but also a little—impressive? The way he handled himself certainly was. The way he protected me.
“I remember the first time I watched someone die,” Massimo sighs, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “It gets easier, but I hope you never have to find that out.”
“Me either,” I say, my fingers tracing a speck of blood near his fingernail. “How old were you? When that happened?”
“I was eight years old. My brothers were younger, but they were there too,” he says. “Our father wanted us to see what happens to traitors. One of our guys was talking to the cops. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“Damn, Massimo. You were a kid.” My eyes get wide. “The only thing I was worried about when I was that age was if my grandmother was going to bake my favorite cookies.”
“You don’t get to choose what you’re born into,” he shrugs, shaking his head.
“And I guess you can’t escape it either?” I ask. “You and your brothers were basically forced into it?”
“No, I chose to follow in my father’s footsteps. I don’t get a pass for everything because I was born into it.” Massimo squeezes my hand again. “Maybe I should have done what Leo did and became a priest.”
“Leo is one of your brothers?” I question.
“Yeah, there’s three of us. Well, four if you count the bastard, but my father never does,” Massimo answers. “My mom just pretends he doesn’t exist.”
“Are you close with Leo… or the bastard?” I tilt my head inquisitively, still absently tracing his fingers.
“I’m close with all of my brothers,” Massimo grunts. “Even Emilio. Or I thought I was. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“Me either,” I say, but my response is referencing more than just family ties.
Massimo is the kind of man I should run away from. Far, far away.
But I just keep getting closer. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. But he’s so much more than a criminal. So much more than just a Mafia guy. There’s a good person under this ink. Not in the conventional sense, but there’s goodness in him. He’s capable of love. Soul-crushing love that left him broken. And he’s willing to die, rather than start a civil war with his family.
“I don’t think I want to leave the resort again until the boat gets here at the end of the week,” I mutter as we pass through the gates.
