Maverick: Pericolo #1.5 Read online

“I’ve survived those twice. I’ll survive it a third time,” I muse, feeling settled with my decisions. “You see, I’m beginning to believe three is my lucky number. I’ve met your father twice, my third time will be the most perfect. I’ve had the opportunity to kill myself twice, the third time will be the third and final time I attempt it and survive, and I’ve had a chance to love Amelia and ruined it on two occasions ... my third chance won’t have an end because it won’t be ending.”

  “You’re speaking like a lucky man,” he observes, rubbing his jaw as he begins to sit back.

  “I won’t lose, this time, Enzo.” I glance down at my watch and begin to grin. “Believe me, I’m going to make an impression.”

  “Do I get any clues?” he asks, looking curious.

  “Nope.” I deny him, shaking my head. “I just suggest you sleep lightly tonight.”

  “Seriously, you can’t keep me out of the loop!” Enzo exclaims, but it hardens my need to hide this plan from him. “I’ve been here practically every day. You can’t cut me out this now!”

  “Go home, Enzo,” I tell him. I stand up, reaching into my pocket for a twenty-dollar bill, and I toss it onto the table. “Believe me, you’ll want to be surprised.”

  The real fight for my girl starts tonight.

  ***

  In the midnight hour, I find the architecture before me to be quite daunting. While it’s grand in size, it’s magnificent in power. I guess the house had to match those who live in it, but this place is formidable. It’s captivating and awe-inspiring, but it also plants a seed of doubt. While standing on its own with no other properties immediately nearby, the Abbiati mansion tells the stories of too many lifetimes that have come and gone.

  Tonight, I’ll be adding my own.

  I mentally prepare myself as I make a shape working its way down the drive toward me. The iron gates begin to open, and he comes into view better. Finishing my drink, I drop the empty can of beer at my feet, lifting my foot to stomp on it. I feel the metal give under my weight, crumpling it into a flattened, misshapen mess.

  He’s a large man, clearly sent out to deter me from loitering, but it makes this moment even sweeter.

  “Oi!” I hear, but I stay leaning against my car. “Can’t park here.”

  “There are no signs to say otherwise,” I say, deliberately trying my luck.

  “C’mere, you little asshole,” he says coming toward me. He advances o me quicker than I expected and he grabs me by my collar, pulling me away from my car. It’s as we enter a little more light his faces changes, clearly recognizing me. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing your mug around here anytime soon.”

  “Bided my time,” I say, punching him in the stomach just to get him to release me.

  He reacts by nailing a punch directly on my jaw, jarring my teeth together. It stuns me, allowing him to get another punch in, but I waste no time. I land a fisted punch to his stomach, raising my knee to his groin and cause him to stumble backward. He forces himself to recover quickly and begins to come back at me.

  “Wouldn’t think about it,” I say, grabbing my gun from the back of my jeans.

  I aim my gun at him, causing him to keep his distance, but this doesn’t stop what I’m about to do. It just makes it easier for me to do it. I curl my finger around the trigger, but before the chamber can release anything, I lower the gun and unload one of the bullets I had reserved for myself weeks prior to this. I listen to him scream as the red hot metal of the bullet penetrates his skin, lodging into his kneecap and disabling him instantly.

  “You shot me!” he squeals, panicking as his knee begins to pour with blood.

  “That was just to wake them all up,” I say, tossing my gun aside. “I just needed you on your knees for this.”

  “Please!” he says, putting his hands up. He knows he’s defenseless, unable to stand for fear of doing more damage. “I’ll get you into the house. I’ll do anything.”

  “Does Salvatore know he hired a man who fears death?” I ask, creeping forward. “Because I know how the Dio Lavoro works, and weak men aren’t part of that. I know that fact well. I also know that your life is meant to begin and end with Salvatore, but you seem to have forgotten that.”

  “You shot me!” he says, his voice heightening with fear. “What else do you expect from me?!”

  I just smirk, reaching behind my back for the penknife in my back pocket. I pull it out and allow my arms to fall to my side. I prepare to push the button to reveal the blade, but I revel in the fear I’m able to execute in this man.

  “You know this won’t do anything,” he attempts to bargain with me. Even though he’s clearly in pain, he refuses to give into me. “Sal is a very difficult man to work with. Killing me won’t do anything to make him want a meeting with him.”

  “You won’t be the only body I leave behind then,” I tell him, deciding to strike.

  It’s as I stalk closer that I allow the blade to unsheathe and leave no time for him to realize what I’m planning to do before I slam the knife into his stomach, hoping my angle nicks his lung.

  The good cop that I reveled in for years disintegrates as I sin for the first and worst time ever.

  I watch the brute before me, his eyes trained on me, his mouth parted in shock, and we seem locked at this moment. He holds onto me, shock a stifling emotion, and I hold the knife with disbelief that I finally did it – I did the most immoral act I could possibly think of.

  I killed a man in cold blood, and the one reason I did it was for love.

  I pull away, stumbling back suddenly sickened with myself, and the brute starts to struggle with his breathing before he falls to the ground. Looking down at my hand, I see crimson staining them and realize I must have hit correctly from the blood flow.

  This solidifies that I am a loose cannon, but it in no way deters me.

  This death may have happened at my hands, but it is due to Salvatore that I have resulted in tactics he’ll understand to gain his attention.

  If Amelia could never free herself from the world her father thrust her into, then I’ll join it. Some will call me crazy, others will call me a fool, but sometimes, when you find your better half, going to hell and back is all part of the journey. No one said love had to be easy; it had to be worth it. Loving Amelia is all I know now - it as how I function, and how I dream of a better future. I have to get my hands dirty to show her how serious I am about this third and final attempt to love her right.

  I step over the brute, leaving him to bleed out. I approach the closed black iron gates and reach out with my bloody hand to push the button to call up to the house. I hear it crackle as someone goes to answer, but I beat them to the punch.

  “Tell them Maverick’s here and he’s not leaving until he has a meeting with Salvatore. Also, that he has a fallen guard.”

  I allow my hand to fall from the button, and I look down at it, tiny warm ribbons of crimson trailing my fingers as I stand up straight and ready for what’s about to transcend. With a small smirk, I raise my gaze, setting it on the formidable building before me.

  I will call this place home if it kills me.

  And I’ll leave a trail of bodies if necessary.

  I feel myself darken as my soul takes on the murder I’ve committed and allows it to change who I am. I’m a man with nothing left to lose, but everything to gain.

  As the gates begin to open, I smirk wickedly.

  “Showtime.”

  ***

  “I want a forever state,” I hear her muse, her head remaining against my chest. “One where this moment never ends.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” I tell her, running my fingers up her arm.

  “It did before,” she frets and finally moves. She rolls a little, twisting against me to look up. “This is our second time being here.”

  “No, it’s not,” I tell her and watch her complete expression fall. “We were never this happy the first time.” I give her a wink, trying to relax her. “Whatever happens, in the
end, it’ll be worth it. Want to know why?”

  “Why?”

  I run my fingers along her jaw, resting them so she can rest against my touch. “Because the journey doesn’t have to be perfect, but the end will be.”

  “You promise?” she asks, her green eyes casting heavily with quizzical questions.

  “I promise,” I say, my voice softening as I lift a hand to push back a wayward curl. “Whatever happens, always believe I love you. It’s all I know to do right, Amelia, and even though some of my actions prove otherwise, and I go wrong at times, know it’s you I want to be with forever. Whatever happens, I’ll always be fighting for you.”

  A forever state is something I can do – if I love her, I’ll deliver this to her.

  After all, loving Amelia is like heaven on Earth.

  She just needs to believe it doesn’t have to be perfect.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AMELIA

  This could be the perfect life.

  Sunlight heats my face, adorning me with an overwhelmingly pleasurable amount of warmth. This is the life – an escape from all hell. I’ve basked in this glorious life for almost four months. It was meant as a punishment, but I’ve bettered my tan, bettered my Italian, and bettered my aim with a revolver.

  But I have lived it all with half a heart.

  I don’t cherish things anymore because I know how easily it can all be ripped away. I refuse to enjoy any part of my life as a mob princess; I just live it. It’s an obligation placed on me before my birth, and I have to learn to cohabitate with this haunting. I don’t have a choice to love it or hate it; I have to lump it.

  And as the sun beats down, I wonder if I could escape and just hide in some quaint Italian village and never see a horrible thing ever again. Stumble upon a new community, find an Italian man to love me, and settle in a place to live out my days. My own skepticism lashes out, and I finally open my eyes to my reality. Before me lies the coastline, and while I’m on top of the mountain, I realize there is no escape from this life.

  I’ve been living practically on top of the world, but there’s no peace here.

  “Amelia!” My Uncle Alberto’s thick, rich Italian accent penetrates the tranquil air, and I bristle. Unlike my father – whose American life has weakened his accent – Alberto’s is enough to make your skin crawl. It’s pure, unforgiving, and resonates the old country and all that thrives within. “You can’t stay in there all day!”

  “Yes, I can!” I shout back over my shoulder, not even moving from my position. “And I will.”

  “We need to discuss things,” Alberto says. I look back to see him standing on the edge of the pool. “You’re requested back in America.”

  “Now, is it optional to go back or will I be forced to go back?” I ask, turning to lean my back against the side of the infinity pool. Instead of a glorious view of the shore and stretching sea, I’m met with the historic Abbiati mansion and the stormy expression my uncle always wears. “If I’m being honest, I’d really rather not be bundled into a car then a plane in the middle of the night again. It’s not one of my most favorable experiences.”

  “You needed out of that situation, Amelia. It was for your own good,” he tells me, and I just snort. “You’re wanted back on urgent business,” Alberto shouts out from across the pool. He looks all the more irritated as I relax against the side of the water, my feet kicking beneath the surface. “Don’t be awkward about this, Amelia. It’s been long enough. It’s time to go home.”

  Home. I’m not sure I even know where that is now. My meaning for it has shaped and morphed so much over the passing years, but now, I’m not sure where it is because all the homes I ever loved ended up destroyed, and in a way, I feel to blame. I’m the destructive element in every situation I’ve been in, so if I have to go back to Manhattan, I won’t be polite – I won’t be loving – I’ll just be there. Everything I held so close and dear to me disintegrated in one night, and I ended it all by raising a gun to my father.

  I know monsters face no salvation. I realize I will never feel again unless by the hands of a miracle, but you can’t blame a girl for being a dreamer.

  “You’re not even listening,” Alberto hisses, snapping me from my daydream. “Get out and get packing, Amelia.”

  As I watch him all but stomp away from me, I realize I’ve wrangled a lot of bad emotions in him. Apparently, he’s more like my father than either likes to think. I can get under his skin just like I could my father’s and all with just a little burst of rebellion.

  I’m not too proud to say I've come to be a hard bitch to work with. My uncle has on many occasions been close to flipping out at my direct disregard to adhere to the powerful hierarchy I was born into. But so what? I was forced here with no option. I just needed to be put out of sight for pulling a gun on my father and while some have shunned me, more have applauded me for standing up to a man like Salvatore Abbiati.

  No one knows that behind closed doors is when the façade drops and the tears fall. I don’t let anyone see that behind the cold, killer glaze to my eyes, I’m actually damaged and irreparable. No one has been there to hug me or care for me. I’ve been left to seek approval in the worse way possible – killing whoever pissed off an Abbiati member – and I only did it so I could belong in a place I know I never will.

  Under the killings, the debauchery, and the illegal activities, I’m hoping for a miracle to encircle me and transport me back to a time when I was sheltered to the true nature of my own flesh and blood.

  Times have changed.

  I won’t ever be more than the girl crazy enough to shoot one of her own.

  That ending was all too bittersweet.

  There can’t be a winner, but I’m a defiant bitch, and I bite hard. I might be going back, but I’m here for Abbiati anarchy. This was meant to teach me a lesson, but it hasn’t. It’s made me tougher, hardened me, and sucked every part of my soul away. If this is what was wanted when I was thrown onto a plane and sent away, then that’s what they’re getting. If not, they should be fucking terrified. I don’t play nice anymore. I’m a new Amelia, and if I don’t like her, no one else fucking will.

  Everything stems from a broken heart. I was stupid to believe I would die alive and not by the hands of a broken heart, but Zane calmly took that belief and turned it completely on its head. He didn’t even need to shout or curse; he just had to give up on me. I still replay our last moments and how innocently quiet they were. I left after realizing he had reached a point of no return – the realization of who I really belonged to was always a barrier for us. I just never noticed the destructive tendencies the obligations I held would have. It wasn’t until the shit-storm rode in and I found myself abandoned and alone in Italy that my anger toward Zane manifested.

  I never listened to my father about how destructive true love was and part of me never will. But I changed my ways, put my heart away, and gave up on thinking of a better chance with Zane. I forgot how to care here; no one deserves it, so it wasn’t hard just to become a cold morsel at my uncle’s disposal. It led me to take on a task I never thought I would – I just don’t fall in love anymore. I’ve built that one boundary up around me. I like people enough to win them over, but they all know I don’t give a flying fuck who I hurt in this life. I showed them all a fair few times that I know my birthright, and I will execute by all means.

  It doesn’t mean it was easy for me. Nothing in this life has been easy except loving Zane, but I fought hard to rinse suspicion away that I was a defiant brat. Now, I’m one of the top killers, and I do it just to make ends meet.

  I don’t know what I’ve become, but when judgment calls, I will look at myself and take whatever punishment is owed.

  As my head falls to the side and I look over at movement, I’m reminded of how uneasy I became at letting people in. Except one, that is. I watch the tanned, barely damaged assistant to my uncle cross the courtyard. He’s walking down the steps toward the pool area, and the mere sight of
him mesmerizes me. Lorenzo Mancini – he was my rebound, and I became his true love. He has a heart of gold and a rock hard cock, and he makes me a masochist because he’s the pretty, Italian equivalent of Zane fucking Maverick!

  But I came here a mess, and I thought to myself one thing – if I’m going to be stuck in Italy, I might as well keep myself entertained. What other way do you forget about heartache, betrayal, and hatred than with sex, murder, and the sun?

  Because that’s all this is to my family – a holiday to get me to kill in true Italian style.

  My lesson was to embrace my inner Abbiati without allowing myself to be distracted. Everything I knew was thrown out the window, and I was taught quickly by Alberto that if he saw any hesitation or second thoughts by me, he would punish me like it was raining down hell on Earth. I know what my father was capable of, and Alberto makes any of his previous actions look tame. So I don’t dabble and I don’t test my limits when there’s work involved. Outside of work is another matter altogether. He can deal with my sass and disrespect, but I know when to rein it in.

  So seduction and a few poisonous drops in a drink are no longer. Now, it’s about bloodshed and vengeful manners.

  While watching my family lay down the law on the Amalfi Coast, I’ve kept myself well occupied with Lorenzo Mancini. He might serve as a visual reminder of the man I still heartbreakingly yearn for, but at least, he’s someone I can hold when it gets all just a little too lonely out here.

  If anything, Lorenzo is the only man I’m bitterly sweet to. Everyone feels the wrath of a disowned Abbiati. I haven’t had contact with my family back in Manhattan for the entire duration of my stay here, and I don’t see that changing. The next time that I see them will be the first time I hear them, too. I won’t lie; I was forced to leave so quickly in the middle of the night that I never saw their reactions nor did they have the opportunity to fight for me. I dread to think about what their reaction will be when I eventually make it home. A part of me fears they’ll hate me and disown me. The rest of me just wants to run into Enzo’s embrace and allow him to fix everything and make me disappear with the help of Carlo. But I worry I will never see such an outcome. Their lack of contact stole my hope and that last night in Manhattan destroyed everything I had spent so long desperately clinging onto, and for what? Absolutely fucking nothing.