Maverick: Pericolo #1.5 Page 7

  I plunge it deep into the bastardo’s neck, immediately feel the blood pour freely.

  “You never speak about my love life or my family again,” I hiss, making it ‘blue eyes’ last memory. “You’re in the Dio Lavoro, not in the family. You’d have done well learning some respect for me.”

  His body drops as I withdraw the glass, and his partner turns to me, horror in his eyes. All at once, my anger diminishes, and I find peace. This is what chanced Zane off – allowing my heritage and birth right to rule. Being here in Italy means I can do so without worrying about losing anyone as a repercussion.

  “You can explain to Alberto what you did to piss me off,” I say, tossing the bloody shard of glass aside as I go up to the young man. I put my bloody palm on his shirt and begin to wipe the crimson away from my skin. “Unless I have to be the one to drag both of you back to him and do all the talking?”

  “No, no ...” he stammers. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Good,” I say taking my palm from his chest to fix his tie. “Let’s go home.”

  ***

  “What am I meant to do with him?”

  “I don’t know,” I say with a shrug.

  I casually grab my glass of wine and take a long sip, indulging in the sweet nectar, and close my eyes as I swallow. I open my eyes to see my uncle getting angrier.

  “The bastardo shouldn’t have been so quick to judge me,” I say, placing the glass down as I stand. “You know, as an Abbiati, I thought I would have a little more respect around here, regardless of what I did back in Manhattan.” I walk toward the dead body on the veranda, poking it with my foot. “So I tried to kill my father ... but the lying coglione had it coming!”

  “Don’t talk about your father like that,” Alberto is quick to growl at me, trying to make me back down.

  “Why not? I was told to speak the truth, and the truth of the matter is that my father, Salvatore Abbiati, is a fucking liar!”

  “Then that makes you one,” Alberto remarks.

  “Why?” I ask, cocking a brow. “Because I loved a man not suited for me. I admitted that. I had every intention to kill him too. Sometimes, reality isn’t what we’re told, but what we live. I was told he had to die, much like all those men before him, but when I lived in the moment, I found out none of those men really had to die.”

  “My father morphed me into a killer and called it my birth-right. I wasn’t the unhinged one, nor was I the one doing any of it with a real malicious intent.”

  “You did it for family,” Alberto counters, folding his arms over his body.

  “That’s right!” I say, exclaiming the point. “I did it because I would have done anything to save and protect my family, but that was a lie!”

  There’s a deliberate silence between us, but Alberto shakes his head and begins to speak all over again.

  “Don’t worry, Amelia,” Alberto starts, leaning against the stone wall of the balcony. “I’ll get you to break sooner rather than later, and by then, you’ll finally see your worth.”

  “We’ll see,” I argue. “For now, I’d work out where in the garden you want to bury that bastardo.” I point at the dead body. “Or if you like, there’s a perfect point at the bottom of the mountain where you can throw him out.”

  “You killed him,” Alberto muses. “That wasn’t my order, Amelia. That was what you wanted to do at that moment. That’s a Femme Fatale mentality.”

  I roll my eyes, walking away from him, but the thought had crossed my mind before.

  This is the woman I was scared of letting out, but only because I don’t know if there is any coming back from this once she takes full rein.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ZANE

  No one protested against the manner of my departure. Not that I expected it. It was just in those moments when I was tossed from the front door and onto the gravel drive, I realized how alone I had come to be in the world.

  Sure, Enzo, Carlo, and Billy had been there for me this morning, but in front of Salvatore, their ranking means they have to abandon me. I don’t blame them. I’ve heard of the horrors Salvatore unleashed onto men who were delinquent.

  It’s with that realization, I’m quick to stand back up and get ready to leave.

  Nothing is here for me. All manner of arguments would never win Salvatore. I showed my strength with Giovanni the other night, I proved my arguments back there in front of men who would kill me at the simplest of order, but I’ve scorned Salvatore Abbiati.

  I was a fucking idiot to assume it’d be easy.

  “On second thought, I’m not quite done here!” Sal’s voice booms out. The sound echoes around the land around the house. “I felt we weren’t quite done.”

  “Oh no, I think we were,” I say, continuing to walk away. “You said enough! I’m leaving.”

  “If I say I’m not done with you, you don’t continue to walk away!” My insubordination causes Sal to chuckle, but it’s not mirthful. His laughter is full of ire. “You and my daughter are so alike in that instance.”

  “But unlike her, you can’t ship me off,” I argue, feeling the anger boiling me in again.

  “No, I can’t,” he agrees quickly, coming down the steps of the mansion. “But I can kill you like I never could her.”

  “Is that a threat that’s meant to scare me?” I ask, taking a step forward. “Believe me, Salvatore, if I thought you could have me six foot under, I wouldn’t be a fucking desperate man coming here!” I take a few careful steps back toward him. “You kill me, you ruin ever getting Amelia back. My death will be the final nail in your relationship.”

  “You think she’ll care when she comes home?” he asks me, laughing hysterically.

  “She’s the reason I ran,” I observe, ignoring his mirthfulness. “I might have no job or life, but I’m still alive … and that’s because of her. She may have been broken hearted, but she saved me. I’m still alive.”

  “Pitifully,” Sal reminds me.

  “Least I’m still here fighting!” I argue, not caring for the importance of the man before me. I don’t even care as men come to stand around him, hands preparing to pull their weapons to protect their boss. “I wish I could say the same thing about you with her.”

  “You have no idea what happened in those final moments before she left!” Sal bellows, charging at me, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “She needed to be reminded of the importance in life!”

  “Her happiness should’ve been it!”

  “Very hypocritical of you,” Sal mocks, dropping his hand as all his defenses abandon him. “You’re the man who broke her heart!”

  “Not before you did!” I say, squaring up to him. “Do you know the one thing I always knew about Amelia?” I ask. I mean it rhetorically, but I like seeing the light shift in Sal’s eyes. “She was always sorry for knowing she was breaking your heart first! That girl only ever wanted to make you happy because she only had you in life. Until there was me.” I’ll never stop saying hypocritical bullshit. “I admit that I broke her, but I am fully aware of the only way I can be with her after this. I have to prove myself to you, and I will. Mark my words.”

  “No, you won’t,” Sal tells me, shaking his head. “Want to know why? Because everything you touch, Zane, turns to dust,” Sal grounds out, killing my prior argument. “I know everything there is to you.” He laughs as he begins to pace before me. “I learned a lot about you and your family when Amelia first announced she had found a man to love. Zane Maverick, an awarded Manhattan detective, falls for the Italian princess of an infamous mob boss, Salvatore Abbiati. It was calling for attention.” He grins, stepping closer. “Imagine my surprise to find out you were a bastard child with a mother who worked two jobs to keep you from going homeless when you grew up. You worked hard to shrug off that label, but if anything, I think you helped your mother into an early grave.”

  “Don’t you dare speak of her!”

  “Oh, I will! She’s quite important in the pathetic excuse you’ve become
.” Sal pauses, narrowing his gaze at me. “I met with your mother a few weeks before her death,” Sal acknowledges, a solemn tone to his voice. “She was very aware of the breakdown between you and Amelia. Did you know that you devastated your mother in her final days?” he asks me, and I flare my nostrils as tears brim in my eyes at hearing him using his mother against me. “She told me how she had only a few wishes, and they were to see Amelia one final time and know that when she left, Amelia would be by your side.” He sniggers at me, shaking his head with disappointment. “Amelia didn’t even know your mother was dead until you were shot.”

  “I wasn’t prepared to give my mother false hope,” I say, trying to tame my urge to go wild. The mere mention of my mother is enough for me to become psychotic. “I wasn’t going to lie to her.”

  “So you decided not to even try?”

  “It wasn’t like that!” I argue, throwing my hands up into my hair. “She was dying, and Amelia wouldn’t even answer my calls. I couldn’t fight for Amelia while preparing myself to lose my mother!”

  I hate myself for getting emotional over this, but the broken man I’ve been since my mother’s death has been waiting for this moment. He’s been teetering on the edge, waiting for a moment of opportune importance.

  “After she was gone, the last thing I wanted was Amelia back in my life because she pitied me!”

  “And you don’t think she will now?” he asks me, rolling his eyes. “Have you seen yourself, Maverick? You’ve come here today to pledge as one of my own, but you don’t even stand close to them! You’re a man waiting for his opportunity, but he’s not prepared to give up on a broken dream to find it.”

  “That’s because this is where I’m meant to end up!”

  “It isn’t!” Sal yells, his words hitting me with force. “I see the weakest of all men in you. Even now, over a year after your mother’s death, the mere mention of her still reduces you to tears. Death should empower a man, not cause him to grieve longer than necessary. My children all lost their mother; they’ve grown accustomed to a motherless existence. They actually grew into it quickly.”

  If only he knew what their mother’s death did each other them.

  “What do you have to offer my daughter anymore, Maverick?” he asks me, all signs of sincerity over my mother’s passing gone. “You have no financial stability. You’re flippant with your emotions. You don’t even seem mentally stable anymore. You’re a loose cannon, and they’re the most dangerous in my eyes. It’s why you’re so careless.”

  I can tell he’s not done yet, so I keep quiet. I feel like I’ve already lost the battle, so I stand no chance to win the war.

  “You see, the way I see it is that you wanted to try your luck to get to my daughter through me, but I am wise. I know men like you, Zane. I was once someone like you. However, I built myself a name within my family and within the Dio Lavoro. I didn’t think one fight would score me gold. Now, unlike you, I worked a hell of a lot harder than presenting myself to men who would be beneficial to me how you have. Men like you don’t deserve chances. I’ve seen what you do with them, and every time I have to look at my daughter from now until my final breath, I will know what the consequences of your actions are. For that, I will always hate you. It will always be the one thing that makes my blood boil, but seeing Amelia will be a reminder that, like you said, I kill you, and I might as well kill her. You have a lot of reasons to make me hate you, but none to make me value you.” He gives a curt smile. “Goodbye, Mr. Maverick. It was nice doing business with you, but I’m not interested in what you have to offer.”

  With his piece said, he turns around and leaves; his entire entourage parts to allow him to walk back into the house. I watch as they all follow, but Enzo, Carlo, Manuel, and Billy remain behind. I give them a weak smile and shrug before I drop back and begin to walk away from them.

  This life just became emptier and darker. I could fight for Amelia until my final breath, but it changes nothing – my mother is still dead, my job is still lost, and Amelia had her heart crushed by me twice.

  I’m destructive and toxic and being stripped down by Sal has proven that.

  I was a weak man for running from the woman I love, but I’m weaker for giving up on everything I held so dearly. He’s right; my sanity is questionable and has been since I let Amelia go the first time, but the death of my mother still rocks me hard, causing such an uproar of grief that sometimes I can’t breathe at the thought of how lonely this world is. I guess the shooting and Amelia’s true intentions were enough to tip me over the edge I spent so long tittering on.

  I’m a weak man; it’s time I acknowledge him.

  “Zane!” Enzo runs after me, grabbing my sleeve to turn me back. “You can try again. You have to keep trying.”

  “Can I?” I ask, laughing in disbelief. “I’m nothing but a loser to your father. He wants nothing to do with me. He’s just proven I have no worth in this life anymore.” I take a few steps away, throwing my hands up in dismay. “You were right, Enzo. This was a bad decision.”

  “You’re giving up?” he asks.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” I ask. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the departure. “I’m finally doing the right thing. I give up.” I shake my head, more at myself for not trying harder to prove to Sal or anyone of his men I was worth the bother, but I don’t know what else I could do when the biggest issue was always my ability to destroy Amelia’s happiness. “Love her for me. When she makes it back, make sure she knows her worth to all of you. She’ll never know how much I was willing to love her when I got it right, so make sure she finds someone who will.”

  “Zane.” Billy tries this time.

  “Don’t.” I stop him. “Your loyalties ... like Amelia’s ... lie with Salvatore. I understand that now. I broke a heart not quite getting it, but I do now. Just do me a favor and make sure no one ever finds out she ever had a hand as the Femme Fatale. That goes to the grave.” He gives me a nod and I swear I’m about to break. “It was nice knowing you all.”

  I make quick work to walk away from them, ignoring their arguments to keep me there. Salvatore managed to do what no one else was able to – he managed to strip me down to the broken morsel I’ve become since I first broke Amelia’s heart. In Amelia, I found my reason to rebuild; without her, I have no reason. Sal managed to see who I was under the guise I wore. It’s time I accept it.

  I blew my chance to have my final shot with Amelia.

  If I can’t even win her father over, I don’t deserve to pretend I’m okay with being with her.

  He was – and always will be – a thorn in my side.

  ***

  I know I need to get away.

  I have very few options to outrun Salvatore, but the one I’ve chosen will see me through. He can’t follow me where I’ve decided to go, and I feel a sweeping sense of ease. I wanted so much to enter his world, become one with him, just so I could be standing there when Amelia walked back into the house, and now, I’ve opted to leave.

  And all she’ll have is the memories and a letter. I look at the paper I just wrote on, and I chortle at myself. I never thought I’d ever be a man who’d have to write a suicide letter, but I always imagined I’d have some grand speech to lay down in black and white to immortalize myself.

  But I don’t.

  My fingers travel across the embossed lettering, and I utter the words as if affirming them harsher:

  I’m sorry, Amelia.

  My suicide note is all of three words long. Each one holds their own conviction. Each powerless alone, but harrowing when put together. I don’t have much to say to Amelia because my apologies will never mend her heart. I broke it, and I can’t fix that. I see that now.

  Sal made it all so abundantly clear through my mother’s dying wishes. I’ll never fulfill them because I let her die knowing I was brokenhearted and a coward.

  So here I sit with my gun on the bedside table, lying in wait.

  I've never put much
thought into how I'd die. Apart from the thought of it being in my sleep, I figured I’d be warm in my bed after years of wedded bliss. There were the imagining of deaths that came with being an officer, but otherwise, I imagined I’d die happy and old with the love of my life.

  Yeah, I'm one of those dreamers.

  Today changed all that.

  Now, I imagine the cold of steel against my temple. I already feel the tremble of my hand as it pulls the trigger, and I'm yet to even bring the gun close to me.

  And I just keep thinking of how everything will stop in an instant.

  I won’t live with regret or need or self-loathing. I won’t live with being this pathetic excuse that can’t even stay and fight for what is true to his heart.

  Amelia will be better off without me as a permanent reminder of what real heartache feels like.

  It doesn’t mean that I imagine in these final moments she’s here. After all, if I could see her one last time before I did this, I’d tell her I was sorry and that I see so clearly now. I’d tell her that I don’t regret losing it all for her or because of her. I’d tell her how I never hated her for who she was but loved her for being the bravest in the hellish of lives.

  But I don’t have that opportunity, and I don’t have the courage to list the many apologies that I live each day with. I am in no way the man she fell in love with that first time. She would hate the man I’ve finally accepted as myself. She wouldn’t look twice at the broken man who resides here because he isn’t admirable.

  I will admit I’m a lot of things, but today, I name myself a weak man.

  Life has worn me down, made me make awful decisions, and caused me to change the path of my life beyond return. I am broken shell of who I used to be and no one on this earth will be able to bring me back. I lost her - my one true love. She was the only one who could help. Amelia is the only one who could love me back to life because, with her, I have a purpose. For her, I would fight for every breath.

  I just wish she had known that.

  I stand; sluggish movements help me approach the bedside table, and I stare at my gun. It’s helped me out of many tricky situations, but I never imagined it would help me while my world collapsed at my feet. I accepted that it had.