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I slammed the door behind me, startling Gia, who was just getting out of bed. Even though Atheist was acting like what happened back there never happened, I didn’t let go of his collar. Gia tensed when she saw the look on my face, and she made a move to stand up when she saw his blood-stained fur.
“What the hell happened?” she asked.
“I have no fucking clue. He just attacked some guy my brother was having a meeting with. I mean,attacked. I had to punch him to get him off the guy so he didn’t get shot. I ain’t ever seen him like that.” My words erupted out of me, still half in disbelief.
It was hard to imagine the dog beside me, now wagging his tail and body as if nothing happened, had done what he did. As if there wasn’t blood staining his damn mouth.
“You know what they say about dogs.” Gia got out of bed and patted Atheist’s head. “They know more than we do about a person.”
She came over and kissed me, which was enough to calm my ailing nerves. I’d seen a lot of horrible shit that would keep any sane person up at night, but that? Watching my boy turn into something I couldn’t control, something hell-bent on killing a person, that was worse than anything I’d ever seen.
“This dog has only ever bitten Silvio,” I said with a shake of my head.
Oh.
I smirked at Atheist. I was certain if that was the case, he bit Silvio because he was a shit person. So what the hell kind of person was the man he just mauled out there in front of our house?
ChapterTwenty-Four
Gia
Iwalked into the kitchen. The waiter popped out from the door on the other side of the room, scaring the shit out of me.
“Can I get you something, ma’am?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though,” I said. “Also, you can call me Gia.”
He smiled politely, and I knew he wouldn’t call me by my name. He brushed long black hair from his face and disappeared into the back room.
I grabbed a wine glass hanging above the island counter and poured some wine, taking a hearty swig before I even put the cap back on. Enzo had gotten his ass chewed out last night by Marco, but he was being weird about the strange man. We still had little idea about who he was or why Marco had met with him. I had never heard Enzo yell like that. But he was defending the honor of his dog and his home. In the end, they parted ways because neither would get anything out of the other while emotions were running so high. Marco demanded that Enzo get his outfit dry cleaned. I had doubts that the amount of blood would come out.
Enzo stormed out after their fight, leaving me alone with the beast himself. Atheist was nothing but the lovable lug he’d always been. I wouldn’t have believed what Enzo had told me if I hadn’t seen the blood on Atheist’s mouth with my own eyes. Or the video, when Enzo pulled up the camera. I would have thought that was a vicious black bear, not the dog I slept with whenever I was in there with Enzo. It was horrifying. I’d only seen men that hell-bent on killing. What the fuck had him so freaked out? None of us recognized the man. Clearly, Atheist recognizedsomethingin him that we couldn’t see.
My phone buzzed. I looked at it as I inhaled more of my drink. A text from Enzo. I hadn’t heard from him since he ran off this morning, doing god knows what. Whatever it was, I wasn’t invited.
Meet me in my room.
I refilled my glass before capping off and putting the wine back in the fridge. I made my way to Enzo’s side of the house. I opened his door, pushing Atheist aside as I walked in. Empty. Where the hell was he?
Heavy steps sounded outside. I saw his shadow on the balcony and unlocked the door and let him in. His breaths were still heavy. His eyes were deep and dark.What the hell did he get into?When he stepped into the light, I saw the blood. He had taken off his dress shirt before whatever he’d done, but blood splattered across his undershirt and crimson marked his skin. It had dried over the array of ink across his shoulders and chest.
“Wh-what the hell happened to you?” I stammered.
“Ensuring you’d be my goddamn wife.” He removed his shirt and tossed it in the garbage. I stared at his taut abdomen, muscles rippling with the same frustration broadcast from every step he took.
I was lost. I had no fucking clue what he was talking about. I could hardly keep myself together as I watched him step closer. He reached toward me with a hand still covered in dry blood and wrapped it around the back of my neck. I put my hands between us and kept him at arm’s length. I liked to pretend I had any control if Enzo decided to close the gap.
“I’m going to need you to stop and explain,” I said, growing annoyed with his ambiguity. “Whose blood is all over you?”
“Ugo Moretti.”
I cocked my head. “Am I supposed to know that name?”
“Your father does.”
“For fuck’s sake, Enzo, what the hell are you talking about?”
He was riding the high of a good murder. And it annoyed me.
