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She’d gotten the idea while staring furiously into the mirror and trying to think of something she could do to avenge Willow.
Yes, Willow had come armed, but she had every right to come armed. This was the realm of Vitali. Everybody should have a gun. Or, failing that, a toothbrush.
Her attempt at evening the score failed almost immediately. Angelo caught her by the wrist before the tip of the brush even skimmed the fabric of his three-piece suit.
“It takes longer than that to make a shiv,” he said, squeezing her wrist hard enough to make her let go. “But nice try. You’re starting to think like a Vitali. Every single member of my household tries to kill me at least once.”
She braced herself for a painful punishment, but it did not come. Angelo didn’t consider her very real aggression anything worth addressing. He did not take her seriously.
“I hate you.”
The words had no impact on him at all. Even less than her blunt shiv did.
“You’re upset.”
“You USED me!” She darted down and grabbed her toothbrush again, hoping that if she poked him somewhere soft enough with enough force, she’d make a real impact.
“Down, girl.” Angelo caught her hand again, though this time, he put the brush in his pocket. “If you keep this up, you are going to have a spectacularly bad day.”
“Worse than being shot? Leave me alone, Angelo. I’m not afraid of you. I’m too angry to be afraid.”
“Be careful, girl,” he growled. “Anger wears off. Pain takes longer to leave.”
“Why are you here? Have you come to gloat at me for having tricked me into having my friend killed? Get out of here.”
“This is my home, girl. I will not leave any part of it.”
“What do you want, Angelo? Have you come to kill me too? Am I another loose end? You want to tie me up, now that you have Willow in the ground like you wanted?”
“I’m sorry you saw what you saw.”
“You used me like a Judas.”
“Willow left you to be killed by me in the first place; then she let you be shot by her brother. Do you truly think she would have lifted a finger to save you if it became convenient at a later date?”
“Yes. I do. I saw her face when Digby pulled that gun on me. She tried to stop him. I didn’t have the chance to do that….”
She was choking up, poor little thing.
The mantle of monster sat easily on Angelo’s shoulders. Nobody wanted to be the one to kill the beautiful woman who needed to be killed. Everybody wanted to believe in the possibility of redemption. But there was no chance of redemption for Willow. She had become obsessed with Tilly and then with him. She had been broken, somewhere deep down on the inside. With one bullet, he had assured the safety of his family, and he did not regret it nor feel the slightest bit of guilt.
“I do what is necessary.”
Gemma looked at him with such fury, her usually bright and friendly features contorted in rage. “You love to do what is necessary. You create situations where you get to do what is necessary. Willow didn’t need to die.”
“Yes, she did. And you know it. Grieve if you must, but I will not tolerate your pouting.”
“Pouting!?” Gemma rounded on the much larger, much older, much more murderous man. “This isn’t pouting, you psychopath.”
Angelo picked her up, both hands fisted in her shirt, imitating the loss of patience, though he had not lost control in the slightest.
“Listen to me, you little British brat,” he growled. “I shot for myself, for my baby, and for you. I put an end to this….”
“You put an end to nothing. Willow’s death will be avenged. Don’t you understand what you’ve done? You haven’t saved us. You’ve started a blood feud with a group of people who are still pissed about things that happened in the twelfth century! This will literally never be over now.”
“Nobody will know what happened. She will simply have disappeared.”
“Okay, because everybody is stupid except you.”
“Let me worry about the future, Gemma. You worry about your hide, now. “
“Why? Because you’re going to shoot me too?” She returned to that no doubt very real fear.
“I am not going to kill you, girl. I have gone a very long way out of my way to keep you alive and to trust you when you did not deserve trust. You asked to be part of my world, and I welcomed you in. Now you tantrum like a toddler because you do not like the price of admission. I will do whatever it takes to keep my family safe. If you do not like that….”
“What? I can leave?”
“Absolutely not. If you do not like that, you can act out, be thrashed, and repeat. I lived with Bobby hating me for years. Your petulant pouting because I didn’t allow an ongoing threat to shoot us down is not going to bother me one bit.”
