Page 34 of Finding Love

Except instead of turning right at the end of the block, Luca continues leading me straight ahead. I’m too nervous to ask what the hell is going on. It’s not like I’d get an honest answer, anyway. His long stride means I’m almost jogging to keep up. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Across the street, I see Bruce closing in on a young man dressed in black pants and a puffy coat. He’s wearing a knit hat pulled low on his forehead—no big surprise since it’s pretty cold. From the looks of it, he’s walking while doing something on his phone, and the glow from the screen is visible from a distance.

Suddenly, Bruce takes hold of the kid from behind and shoves him into a narrow passage between two darkened storefronts. Many of the little shops and boutiques in the village close early on weekdays. I guess because it’s the off-season, there isn’t much point in staying open until eight or nine o’clock when there’s nobody coming in.

“What are we doing?” I ask when we suddenly change course, with Luca pulling me across the street. The few pedestrians also out and about don’t pay any attention, though I wonder if they would if I screamed. Is this a scream-worthy situation? I’m not sure, but I’m starting to get an idea I won’t like what’s about to happen. It’s the way Luca’s energy shifted and the fact he has yet to answer my questions about what the hell is going on.

Vinny joins us by the time we reach the dark passage where Bruce has basically pinned the kid against a brick wall with an arm to either side of him. It’s like he’s in a human cage, trembling and wide-eyed. He can’t be more than eighteen years old and has probably never been in a situation like this. “Wh-what’s happening?” he asks, breathless.

Luca ignores the question. “Good work, Bruce.” It’s almost a relief when he releases my hand since he was squeezing hard enough for me to now flex my fingers and wince as blood starts flowing again.

“What is this about?” I whisper while he glares at the kid.

I might as well not be here. There’s no reaction to my question. Instead, Luca nods to Bruce, who wastes no time slapping the kid’s phone to the ground before shoving his hands into the kid’s pockets and pulling out everything he finds.

“That’s my stuff!” the kid protests weakly, like he’s afraid to say anything but has to. He’s terrified, and I can’t say I blame him. This must all seem like it’s coming out of the clear blue.

I’m afraid, too, except I have to say something. I can’t stand here and watch this without trying to end it. “Why are you doing this?” I whisper, tugging Luca’s coat, hoping to get his attention. He only offers a brief scowl, like I’m a pest, while Bruce goes through the kid’s things.

“What, you didn’t think I would notice you?” Luca gets in the kid’s face, looming over him, and I hear the rapid, panicked breathing getting louder. “You were practically attached to us the whole time we were eating dinner, and then you get off your shift as we’re leaving? What, I’m not supposed to notice that? Huh?”

The kid’s mouth falls open before his head shakes almost violently back and forth in denial. “I don’t know what you mean!” He might be trying to scream, but it comes out as a breathy gasp.

Now I realize Luca’s right, that the kid worked at the restaurant where we had dinner. I noticed him walk past with a tray of used plates at one point, but for the most part, I was more interested in Luca than anybody else.

None of that means he’s a plant by the Vitali family. “This isn’t right,” I murmur, grabbing Luca’s arm this time.

“Take her back to the house,” he growls out before practically shoving me into the breathing wall of muscle that is Vinny, almost like I’m an afterthought—something for him to push aside.

“What are you doing?” I ask again when I find my balance, but my questions fall on deaf ears. He doesn’t hear me or doesn’t want to.

“Now. Back to you.” The kid yelps a little when Luca takes him by his coat and slams his back against the wall. “Who are you working for? Who told you to follow us?”

“I wasn’t following you!” The kid is on the verge of tears, his voice shaking almost as hard as his body. “Please, I don’t know what I did wrong! I work for my dad’s restaurant!”

Luca leans in until their faces are almost touching. His snarl raises the hair on my neck, and I’m not the one he’s snarling at. “Shut the fuck up,” he grits out before pulling his right hand back. I recoil in horror at the sound of it striking the kid’s cheek, and the sight of it turns my stomach. How can he be so effortlessly brutal, seeming not to hear the kid’s pitiful pleas as he begins to slide down the wall?

“Oh, no. I’m not finished with you yet.” A chuckling Luca hauls him to his feet. “You’re gonna tell me what I want to know. Who the fuck are you? Who are you working for?”

“Don’t!” I plead in the moment between Luca drawing his fist back and driving it into the kid’s face. His weak, pained groan sickens me almost as much as the sound of fist hitting flesh.

“You can stop this anytime,” Luca tells him over the sound of his suffering while Vinny holds me in place. “Just tell me what I need to know.”

“Boss.” Bruce holds out the kid’s wallet. “He lives here. He’s got the same last name as the restaurant and everything. It’s his family’s place.”

“So what?” Luca fires back, wild and vicious. When he turns toward us, I forget to breathe. He’s staring at us like we’re strangers, wide-eyed, like an animal about to attack. “What, Vitali wouldn’t hire somebody local? I told you to get her out of here!” he barks at Vinny, and I recoil when his gaze lands on me. He’s a stranger again, someone I don’t want to know, someone who would beat a stranger without stopping to wonder if he’s making the right choice.

The kid slides to the ground, and his head lolls like a ragdoll when Luca shakes him, growling in his face. “Answer me!”

“We’ve got to go,” Vinny insists, close to my ear. He holds my arm tight, but I barely feel it.

“Let go of me.” I yank my arm away, and Vinny is smart enough not to take hold again. “Luca, you have to stop this,” I plead, inching closer to where he now stands over the half-conscious boy. Luca did this without hesitating. He hurt this innocent kid.

He swings around when I draw near, hitting me with a death glare that makes me fall back a step. Like he pushed me without lifting a hand. “Don’t you fucking tell me—” He realizes at the last second who he’s talking to. I am not the enemy. Still, his teeth are bared when he mutters, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

The intensity of his glare pierces my vision once again, only this time he's wielding a hammer over a bloodied man slumped over in a chair. Oh God. That night we first crossed paths when I went to his nightclub. I recall trailing after him into his office, where...

Oh God, I feel nauseous.

---