Page 22 of SINS & Lies

Slowly, I shake my head. “Kennedy and I made a deal, one which I’ll honor. Protect her sister and avenge her father’s death.”

“If God put her in your path, do you really think you can let her go?”

“I’ve let lots of women go.” Though most try to hang on like a bad case of jock itch. “Letting go of women has never been my issue,” I remind him as much as myself.

“You’ve gotten everything you ever set your sights on, Enzo. Do you really think you’ll be able to let her go?” His question hangs in the air like a piñata waiting to be beaten down.

My eyes narrow on his. “Yes,” I say firmly. I’m taking a week. Not proposing marriage.

The feel of Bella’s tight, wet pussy up and down my shaft just might be worth the cheap price of Rocco’s sucker punch—but that’s where I draw the line.

With Father Malone’s stupid doe-eyed stare boring into my skull, I add, “She had her chance. I offered her anything,” I spit. “Cash. A blank check. She chose her sister’s life over her own.”

“Wouldn’t you do the same?”

What kind of a stupid question is that? “Of course, I would,” I snap. “And I’m doing it now. You heard Andre. He’s hungrier than ever for power, and I’m probably the only thing standing between him and my family’s total annihilation. Kennedy’s debt belongs to him, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Can’t you?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” I gesture to my face. “Hello? How about you let me handle Kennedy, and you do what you do best.” I pull out a wad of bills from my pocket and thrust it into his hands. “Focus on your little charity cases.”

Thirty grand should shut him up. At least for a while.

He studies the money for a moment, stunned silent. But then he gets his second wind. “Do you know how many people this will help?”

All except the one I want. “I don’t care,” I mutter.

Then, as if our bond needs more reinforcement, he adds, “The last money you donated went to?—“

I hold up a hand, too engrossed in the jackhammer inching its way into the center of my skull to care. “Spare me the details.”

He nods, but before my feet clear the exit, Father Malone’s grip on my arm stops me like a vise. “Doesn’t it bother you that Andre is so interested in this girl?”

I blink. It’s as if he hasn’t heard me at all.

He steps in front of me. “The man buys and sells debts every day.”

“Any man who’s seen Kennedy would be interested in her,” I explain. “Unless, of course, you’re gay, blind, or a priest.”

Between my pounding head and me dying a slow, agonizing death from this conversation, I need to leave. Now.

“You need to check into that.”

What I need is a Xanax.

I try to sidestep him, but he swiftly blocks my path. “Why won’t he just sell you her debt?” he presses, his tone urgent enough that my last shred of patience disappears.

I snatch him by his holier-than-thou collar, my voice booming across the stone walls. “Because it’s me!” I snap, the words flying from my lips like bullets through all that reasonable logic.

“He’s manipulating you,” he says sadly, as if he’s finally connected the dots.

I glare with contempt. “Then he’s a moron,” I spit out, my patience razor-thin. “Like the rest of you, he thinks I give two shits whether Kennedy Luciano lives or dies. And just so we’re clear,” I add, my words slicing through the tension, “I don’t.”

I bolt from the room and out the door. Nothing is more important than the safety of my family.

Not even her.

CHAPTER 8

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