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Esteban’s presence creeps onto the pages and I recall how he approached her the first time, along with the fear and anger I had in that moment.
Through my tears, I write about proposing and then immediately taking her to the tattoo parlor to get her name tattooed across my ring finger and her lips tattooed on my heart.
My pen moves swiftly as I record the pain I felt when Jacob took her, and the aftermath with her trying to emotionally overcome what had happened to her. I write about her building headquarters and our dream home. I scrawl about the night we conceived our twins.
Chuckling, I write about my woman and her family running Lorenzo over with his car. I write about seeing her walk down the aisle in the most beautiful gown and the megawatt smile on her face when I told her my vows. I note how Esteban watched us at our wedding, and the rage that shot through me with him being so close to her.
Every detail about the honeymoon and how my stupidity got me in the dog house again is recorded. I write about the day we got medical confirmation we were having twins. I write about morning runs, shower sex, the sound of my woman’s laughter, the private confessions we shared, the curve of her soft body against mine, and the way my heart turns over every time she tells me she loves me.
It’s hard to breathe by the time I finish writing, sweat accumulated around my temples. What I had just done was probably the heaviest weight I’ve ever unloaded from my shoulders. I hesitate writing more—writing about Esteban.
My hand stalls over the blank page before I scrawl some deep-seated emotions. I write about myabuelaand the unbreakable bond I had with her. I painstakingly detail the stories myabuelaused to tell me about my parents.
Jabbing my pen into the pages, I mention my first encounter with Esteban as a child and how my Abuelita Lucia screamed at him to leave me alone. I write how I learned of my parents' deaths at a young age, how that affected and shaped me. It triggers more memories about walking to my parents’ burial site and finding flowers already laid across her grave from Esteban. I write about the countless times he would reach out to my school to find out how I was doing, or show up to my sporting events—always there and meddling.
I shed more tears as I write about losing myabuelato cancer and enlisting in the Navy to escape my pain and grief. I write about becoming a SEAL and meeting all my brothers. I write about the day Gauge and I retired from the Navy and bought our first hogs on a whim. I include the freedom of riding and the freedom of becoming a mercenary to do more good.
And through all my writing, Esteban is hidden throughout nearly every memory. I do have an unhealthy obsession—or phobia—with the man. My journal entries can’t be denied; the man has tainted every nook and cranny of my life.
It’s time to fill in the gaps and choke the fucker out.
My cell rings and I lunge for it, praying, hoping it’s Esteban with word of my wife. “Yes?”
“Atlas…I’ve gotten word of what has happened,” Piero says with a heaviness in his voice. “I have no words that express how sorry I am. I’m calling to offer my services in any way you need.”
This is not who I hoped would be on the other end of the line.
Frustrated, I run a hand down my face. “I appreciate the help, but after having Josephine ripped away, I’m leery of your intentions. What exactly do you get out of this deal? If I accept help, I don’t want this coming back to bite me in the ass.”
Piero is quiet for a moment before responding. “I understand your reluctance to trust my intentions to ally myself with you. If the situation was reversed, I’d behave the same.”
There’s another long pause before Piero clears his throat. “I have heard a rumor…is it true? Is Esteban your father?”
“What’s it to you?”
Piero sighs. “I understand what it’s like to lose a loved one at the hands of a family member. I mentioned my sister’s pregnancy. She was my younger sister, my only sibling, and I was protective of her. I told you women in the Bianchi mob are essentially property, sold into marriages to create tighter bonds between other mob families. My sister was forced into a marriage to a man twice her age, all so my father could end a war between a rival mob. Camilla was innocent and so damn scared. I pleaded with my father, even offered myself to trade places with her and have an arranged marriage with any of the other available women from the same family. My father angrily refused, saying a girl wasdispensable, but the bloodlines needed to remain pure with the Bianchi males.”
Jesus Christ.And I thought I had daddy issues.
“The marriage took place, and the filthy pig raped her to the point she nearly bled out. When I heard of my sister’s state, I barged into his mansion and beat the fucker within an inch of his life. Found my sister withering in pain, took her to get proper medical care before moving her into hiding. I was only twenty, but I used the knowledge which was drilled into me from the time I was ten to help me in my business endeavors. I may have been born into the mafia, but I was determined to be a legit businessman.
“Several weeks later, Camilla discovered she was pregnant. Unlike my family, I do think a woman has a right to do with her body as she pleases. I encouraged her to make the right choice for herself. Whatever Camilla decided, I would support her. She chose to have the baby, and she loved that baby with all her heart. My sister developed preeclampsia, leading to a seizure late in her pregnancy. She slipped into a coma and never woke up.”
Piero pauses, swallowing hard. “After I lost Camilla, I snapped. I started with her husband—his body has been decomposing in a shipping container somewhere in the East Indies for years. My father was trickier. He knew I was coming for him, but even he didn’t think I would be so brazen as to walk into his home while he slept, waking him up with my hands around his throat.
“I didn’t even run away after I took his life. I called my uncle to tell him my father was dead. Then I took over my father’s business dealings. It’s taken years, but I successfully dismantled everything my father built up. Seemed only fitting to destroy the businesses he put before his daughter.
“There are others who had a hand in forcing the marriage between my sister and the pig. They too, will pay. It’ll take time, but I’m a patient man.”
My head falls into my hand. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because I understand your duress over your loved one being at the mercy of a mad man. No one understands that better than me. My offer is sincere, Atlas. Ask and I will provide you with what I have. Your father reminds me of my father, and men like that need to be taken out,” Piero says evenly.
“You have a long and difficult path ahead of you, and you’ll need all the help you can get. I’ll be waiting for your call,mio fratello. And Atlas, don’t stop. Don’t stop ‘till she’s safe and you finish the job with your own bare hands.”
Piero is right—the real work starts now.
