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I turn back to the car when headlights loom a good distance off. The doctor’s come.
Just as I reach the car, I hear Elise scream. I turn to find someone in a hooded ski mask heading for us. But he doesn’t reach for me. He goes straight for Elise.
She screams and kicks, shoots her gun but misses by a mile. He’s got her around the throat, yanks her in front of him and puts his gun to her head.
“Come any closer,” he grates in a voice that’s familiar. He’s trying to disguise his voice but doing a piss-poor job. “Come any closer and I kill her.”
I call his fucking bluff and pull the trigger. He screams when I hit his shoulder, and his whole body jerks. Elise kicks him, and he rears back and slaps her with his good hand. She falls to the ground with a scream.
I don’t remember lunging for him. I don’t remember hitting him.
I’m aware of the fact that I’m taking every fucking bit of anger I’ve ever had out on whoever this masked attacker is. I slam my fist into his jaw, and his head snaps back. I pound my fist and snap his head the other way. I lay into him like I haven’t beaten anyone in fucking years.
I pummel his body as he screams and writhes, then yank the face mask off. Leo’s bloodied face looks back at me. He brings his hands to his face and blocks another blow, but he’s no match for my fury.
“You motherfucking traitor.” My fist slams into his broken jaw. “You fucking asshole.” I hit him again, and again, every punch slamming harder than the last. My hands are slick with his blood.
I hit him for betraying us.
I hit him for going after my wife.
I hit him for ever making her afraid.
I hit him for fucking everything.
“Tavi,” Santo grates. “He’s fucking unconscious. You’ll kill ‘im. You don’t want his blood on your hands.”
I look at my hands covered in blood, a literal interpretation.
I hit him again.
And again.
And again.
Elise’s sobbing, as her arms go around me from behind. “Tavi, no,” she says. “You’ll regret it. Bring him home. Let Romeo deal with him.”
I stand and kick him, satisfied when I hear ribs break. He doesn’t move.
The car door slams and the doctor I called stares at me with wide, terrified eyes.
“Who needs a doctor, Mr. Rossi?”
Half an hour later, both Santo and Leo, the motherfucker, are stable.
I call Romeo and fill him in.
“Thanks for leaving him for me, brother,” he says. “But I promise I wouldn’t have blamed you if you offed him.”
I know he’s talking about Leo. Santo’s another story.
After Santo and Leo are resting peacefully in guest room beds, the doctor tries to tend to me.
“Le tue mani, per favore.”
I shake my head.
“Check her first.”
“Tavi, I’m fine,” Elise says.
I insist.
She is, indeed, fine.
I reluctantly let him check me out. He tends to some lacerations and a headache that won’t quit. I put my guards on Santo and take Elise upstairs.
I don’t know how things stand between the two of us. I don’t know what to expect from her at all.
“There’s a guest room on the top floor that we—”
She pushes me up against the wall. She’s so much smaller than I am, a move like this would normally be laughable, but I’m so stunned, my back hits the wall in surprise.
“Kiss me,” she whispers. “Fucking kiss me.”
I’m so relieved, I lay my hand on her cheek and hold her gaze. “You want me to kiss you, baby?”
She lets me call her baby. My heart pounds.
So many words need to be said. So much needs to be explained, so much healed and mended between us, but she only says the one word I need to hear.
“Yes.”
I lift her in my arms and ignore the burning pain in my shoulders. I’d walk across hot coals for this woman. I can handle a little sting.
Her legs wrap around me, and she buries her head on my chest as if she’s craved this, like she needs this.
“I love you, Elise Rossi,” I tell her. “I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not healed from any of this, Tavi, and I don’t know how long it will take. I won’t lie to you about it. But I am telling you right now that I know this life is complicated, and I heard what you said.”
“What did I say?” I ask, kissing her pink cheeks and remembering how soft she feels.
“You said it’s… possible to commit terrible crimes, and still love someone.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “And maybe that’s true for all of us.” She sniffs and repeats. “Maybe that’s true for all of us.”
I nod. “I think it is. For me. For you. For all of us.”
