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Chapter One
REMY
The soft murmur of footsteps overhead is barely heard over the water gurgling in the pipes on the wall, one of them rattling inside a broken wall bracket at the flush of a toilet. Boxes are stacked to the right of me, my father casually leaned against them as he puffs on his cigar. Blood drips from my busted lip and my left ear, the ringing now gone but a deafening shadow of sound has replaced it, like my head is stuck underwater. My gut sucks in with the next punch that lands against my ribs, a hiss whispering through my clenched teeth.
I’ve nearly become numb to the pain at this point, my aching body nothing but a giant throbbing. I flex my fingers where I sit, my hands unbound and resting at my sides despite taking a beating. I know it was intentional on Geo’s part; he wanted me to retaliate during my punishment—if I hit him back my father would be forced to extend it. And even though I had nothing to do with my father’s decision to use Julian as blackmail against me, I know Geo blamed me. That, paired with me taking Beverly’s virginity was enough to push Geo over his limits of tolerance where I was concerned.
And I wasn’t about to encourage him or my father to extend my beating or my pier duty, so I sat in silence as my ribs were bruised and my body was pelted with punches and kicks. And even though I was in pain, I’d make the same choices that got me here. I’d take a beating every day just for one more night with Bev. And realistically, I might if they ever found out that I hadn’t stopped seeing her.
“Geo, it’s been over two and half hours, I think Remy has gotten the message by now.” My father’s voice comes from the corner, the smell of his cigar melding with the earthly stench of mold that clings to the basement air.
Geo’s breaths come in quick pants as he bends at the waist, his bandaged knuckles resting on his knees as he looks over at my father. Dark, graying hair sticking to his forehead despite the cool dampness of the space. “Perhaps.” His head turns to face mine, his tongue wetting his lips as he glares. “I have to commend your son on his ability to take a hit.”
He and my father share a chuckle I don’t find amusing. My shoulders shifting with a pained grunt as I adjust in my metal chair.
“But fine,” Geo speaks again, straightening to wave his hand at me. “You’re done. I’m still pissed you touched my daughter, but I feel a little less murderous.” His eyes flick to my father’s, one of his fingers pointing at him. “I’m still mad at you, though.”
My father scoffs, snubbing out his cigar on the water-stained brick wall. “Come now, Geo, when will you forgive me?Ho già chiesto scusa.” I already apologized.
I stay in my chair while they talk, the ringing in my head slowly starting to dull but my hearing not yet back as I ignore their conversation. I stay in the chair, waiting for permission to leave before I dare move. I already know it will be pure agony, my muscles cold and sore from both the beating and sitting in place for so long. I can already feel the tingling, tiny pinpricks of glass making their way up my legs as I wiggle my toes.
“Remy, go get cleaned up, you look a mess.” My eyes flick to my father’s look of annoyance. “You have pier duty starting tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.” It rasps from my throat, my jaw aching from the several right hooks I’d taken and clenching my teeth. I swallow back the blood that welled up from my lip, speaking reopening the cut. I give myself a moment to wake up my limbs before I dare try to stand, my hand cradling my side when a sharp ache stabs through my ribs with such intensity it knocks the breath from my lungs.
Figlio di puttana.
Son of a bitch.
My teeth grind as I shuffle toward the doorway, each step growing a little stronger, but so does the pain. Instead of braving the stairs, I turn left, cradling my ribs with one hand and using the other to support each step as I make my way to the locker room. A slightly renovated old-school house, this warehouse has both a kitchen and a locker room with showers in the basement. It’s one we use often for beatings because it’s easy to clean up after.
Instead of pulling my shirt over my head, I grab the hem and yank, a grunt of pain echoing around the locker room as I rip my shirt down the front. Closing my eyes, I peel the stiff, bloody fabric off, letting it drop to the ground as I clench my teeth and toe off my boots. My fingers undo the button on my jeans, bare feet cold on the tile floor as I walk stiffly to the shower stall and turn the water on hot. Water sputters from the showerhead, hard and loud as it sprays the tile floor and splashes up onto my legs. Bracing myself on the wall, I struggle to get my jeans off, hissing through my teeth as I jerk the cuffs over my ankles and leave them on the floor.
The water is brutal on my sore, broken flesh, but it’s welcoming. The heat sinks into my cold body, warming my muscles and helping soothe the ache. Grabbing the cheap bottle of soap that’s sitting on the stall divider wall, I lather it in my palms, closing my eyes to the sting as I soap up my body, a mix of blood and suds twirling down the drain at my feet. I can only raise one hand to wash my hair, so I do it half-assed, letting the soap run down my face. Once the water between my toes runs clear I shut the shower off, my skin immediately pebbling with gooseflesh as I make my way to the utility shelf holding towels and spare clothes.
It takes me some time but I eventually dry and get dressed, leaving my old clothes on the floor where I discarded them as I scoop up my boots and fight them on. My lip has started to scab up so it’s no longer bleeding, but my left eye feels puffy and nearly swollen over. My hands clench at my sides as I eye the basement steps, eyes momentarily closing as I grab onto the banister with one hand and cradle my ribs with the other, taking each step with an internal curse and a hiss through my teeth.
The men on the upper deck don’t dare look over at me as I enter the room, all of their heads purposefully turned away or bowed over paperwork as I make my way toward the exit. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, the only light coming from the floodlights on the side of the building as I make my way to my SUV.
“You’ve certainly looked better, brother.”
My fingers tighten on the side of the car door at Gavino’s voice, the door held partially opened as I adjust to see him leaning against his car. I don’t answer him, just hum, swallowing as I open the door farther and prepare to climb inside.
“I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”
His voice is closer, but I don’t look, holding the grunt that wants to come out inside of my chest as I get into the driver’s seat. Once I’m settled, I look over at him, his smug face begging me to shuffle over and break his jaw.
“You got your ass kicked for a woman you don’t even get to be with.” He chuckles and I start my car, eyes flicking from his as he continues, “I’ll tell her you say hi during our date this week.”
I swallow hard, not allowing his goading to get to me. My body is screaming but I have somewhere to be. My eyes meet his just as I pull out. “You do that.”
Chapter TwO
BEVERLY
“Just a minute.”
Wringing my hair one last time with my towel, I toss it into the laundry bin on my out of the bathroom. In my hurry to get to the door, I grab the first thing I can find to cover up—an oversized tee that used to be Julian’s—and throw it on. I’m digging through my dresser to grab a pair of underwear when I hear the door opening.
