Page 35 of SINS & Temptation

With barely a nod, the pressure finally eases up before I pass out.

Bruno’s handiwork is pretty good, considering he’s sweating from his own pain from two pieces of metal lodged in his leg. But he refused to tend to himself before taking care of me—an action both stupid and gracious.

And as much as I want to tear him a new one for doing this, I sure as hell wasn’t doing it in front of the kids.

When he completes the last stitch, he announces, “Done,” and holds out his hand for a high-five from Sofia. Bruno has four children—two his own and two adopted after fostering them for years. He knows how to break through, though Dante and I anxiously wait with bated breath to see if he will.

Nothing.

“C’mon, kid,” Bruno coaxes. “Don’t leave me hanging.” When she still doesn’t bite, he sweetens the offer. “Give me a high five, and I’ll teach you how to stitch up my leg.”

“Is that wise?” Dante asks, nervously.

Bruno doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m betting toughy here has seen worse than this. Besides, we all crave control, don’t we?”

No one can argue with that logic. Least of all me.

Sofia’s eyes flicker with something—maybe curiosity, maybe the need for some semblance of power. Or maybe our little devil just relishes the idea of jabbing a man repeatedly like a sewing machine.

He holds up his hand again. “In or out, kid?”

She hesitates only for a second. Then, instead of a smack, she channels all her power into a punch straight to his palm. With an Oscar-worthy performance, Bruno staggers back, shaking out his hand. “You got a mean right hook on you there, kid.”

The smallest smile crosses her lips.

Bruno grins, a glimmer of relief in his eyes, and Dante and I release the breaths we didn’t realize we were holding. It feels like the first time Trinity did something normal after her attack, like smiling after a compliment, or laughing at one of our stupid jokes.

Small acts of normalcy aren’t just moments. They’re everything.

“‘Atta girl,” Bruno says, his voice filled with quiet pride. “Now, let’s get to work.”

Bruno nudges her away gently, and she looks long and hard at me. “I’ll be right here, diavoletta,” I assure her.

My eyes fall to Lili, who lingers behind.

“You too, angioletta.” Fear and uncertainty flicker across her face. I lean in and whisper, “Bruno needs someone brave to hold his hand too.”

It takes a moment before she finally pries her hand from mine, but no one rushes her. Slowly, she steps away. But before Dante and I can say a word, she backtracks. My impatience nearly seeps through when she hands me back my drink.

Just what I needed. “Grazie, angioletta,” I say with a grin. I’m trying not to play favorites, but bribing me with booze definitely tips the scales in her favor.

Dante takes a seat beside me, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, I exhale a weary breath and slam back the rest of the scotch. “Since when did I become kid Velcro?” I murmur, genuinely perplexed.

“Probably since they managed to witness you flatten their assailant’s brain like human scaloppine.”

I glance at Sofia and Lili, their small frames almost swallowed by the oversized leather seats. Their eyes are still wide with adrenaline and fear, but there’s a resilience there too, a strength that makes me feel both proud and guilty.

I dump my cigar in the glass and hang my head. “They shouldn’t have seen that.” I shake my head. “You nearly died while I wasted who knows how long smashing a man’s brain in while two innocent children watched.”

“Hey,” Dante says, blowing out a breath. “If you hadn’t grabbed him, those two girls would be s’more marshmallows. We had no idea they were in there. At all. What made you grab him?”

I don’t tell him that I thought the guy was Jimmy. For the same reason I don’t tell him that I’m constantly hearing the haunted voice of a dead Scotsman. “Instinct,” is all I say.

He pats me on the back, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “Glad to know those feral, psychotic instincts of yours are good for something.” He points to the girls. “Your girlfriend is going to love this side of you.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit. You’re clearly seeing the woman at the villa. Kennedy,” he sings, his smile turning dreamy. “Her name sounds like sunshine and spring.” He bats his eyes, mocking me.

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