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“What’s your end game, Ray?”
“I thought I made that clear.” He slipped on his boxers and turned to me before he walked out the door. “You.”
Ray had shown me the thin line between love and hate, and I had walked it with him until the end of our time together. It felt like a different line with Daniello.
But was I confusing sex and love again?
I watched the sun descend behind a line of Cypress Evergreens and made my decision. I was done waiting. It was time to make some noise.
I’d spent the next day in the heart of Barga at the various shops, making small talk with the owner’s using the small amount of conversational Italian I knew, while I made random purchases and my presence known. I walked down the street, scantily clad in barely-there shorts and a tank top paired with three-inch heels. I was a walking neon sign and for no other reason than I was tired of the charade. I counted on small town talk, the way I did back in Dyer, to get word to my enemy, and I would bet my fortune it was Rocco.
I was restless, determined to protect my family, and itching for a fight.
That night at L’Osteria Di Riccardo Negri—a local bar—I made friends with Gian and Omero, two men passing through on business. They were bored with the sleepy town and a perfect excuse for me to behave badly. I stood at the blue, red, and gold neon-lit bar with Gian’s arm wrapped around me while Omero chatted me up about his time in America. Gian’s fingers drifted down my low-cut dress and massaged my back as Omero fucked me with his eyes. The two men were in no competition for my attention as I gave them both false impressions in equal measure. I had no expectations. I only hoped I was being watched. It wasn’t hard to slip back into sexual indifference with a stone heart. I’d been doing it a long time.
“You like Italian?” It was a shitty attempt at flirting from Gian as he slipped his fingers between the low part of my dress and my skin. I didn’t object as I leaned over, a whisper from his lips. “I’ve gotten a taste for it.” Gian grew hard in his seat, an apparent outline in his pants, and squeezed my flesh as Omero ordered us another round. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” Gian’s hand tightened briefly as he stared straight at my peaking nipples. And it had nothing to do with him. The room was freezing, and I was wearing a whore’s scrap of a dress. I grabbed my purse, which barely fit my Glocks and a second round of ammo, then made my way toward the back. While pulling up my dress, awareness hit me like a ton of bricks. Underneath the narrow stall and to the right I saw wingtips. Unlocking the door, I made my way to the sink. I placed my purse next to it and ran some water before I pumped soap into my hand then met his eyes in the mirror.
“Rocco, what a surprise.”
His eyes narrowed as he stood, his arms crossed. “You are already dead, whore.”
“Nice to see you too.” I gave him a wink as I turned and wiped my hands on the waiting linen. “Can I buy you a drink?”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text before he lasered his focus on me. I gripped my bag as casually as I could right before he snatched me by the hair.
“It disgusts me he was going to go legitimate for you.”
Shock filled me, and I winced as he pressed me against the wall with a hate-filled face.
“You have done nothing but bring ruin to our family.”
“Your family?” I spit out with pure contempt. “Not what I heard. I heard you were an orphan.”
He slammed my head into the tile wall as I pressed the Glock I’d already gripped to his crotch.
Ignoring the throb at the back of my head, I dug into him. “You started this fight motherfucker and I’m about to end it.”
Rocco laughed despite the gun firmly pressed to his dick.
“You have no idea how wrong you are.”
“I’m pretty sure I have the upper hand at the moment. Turn around and open the door.”
“I don’t think so.” Rocco smiled and leaned in. “How is your sister?”
In a split second, the butt of my gun connected with his chin before I pressed it to his temple. Rocco leaned in with zero restraint or fear of my itchy trigger finger. “I could have her dead by morning.”
“Fuck you!”
His laughter echoed throughout the bathroom. “You think killing me will fix your problems, cagna? They have only just begun.”
“What the fuck did I ever do to you?”
“You exist. We had him close, and then he dreams of a life making puppies with you.”
“Close to what?” Rocco grabbed the barrel of my gun, and it took everything in me not to pull the trigger.
Rocco feigned a sigh, “It doesn’t matter. Daniello will do what he must.”
