Page 19 of The Mafia's Surprise Gift

“I’ll… fuck.” Rocco slammed his hand down on the dresser, causing all the bottles and items to jump. “I’ll kill him. Or I won’t. But I feel like I should. I’m so… so fucking angry. Every little thing makes me want to yell or throw things. I don’t want to bury my dad. I won’t want to play this right.” Slowly, he turned to me and his eyes shone. “I want to go out there and kill every single fucking Russian and Irish I can get my hands on until someone confesses. And then I want to keep going until it doesn’t h–hurt anymore.”

In half a second, Rocco crumbled. I surged forward and caught him as he sagged, sliding my hand around the nape of his neck. I pulled him into a tight hug, and he stood there, weeping silently.

“I want to kill everyone for daring to come after my family, for ruining the people we worked for. He gave his entire life for this bullshit, he took my life, and now…”

“I know,” I hushed him softly, fighting the warm sting behind my own eyes at hearing him in so much pain. “I know. We’ll find the fucker. We will, and you’ll get your revenge. But you need to focus on one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Rocco lifted his head just enough so I could press our foreheads together and look him directly in the eye.

“We’re not going to act rashly. The fucker who did this wants a war, and we’re not going to let them play us like that, are we?”

“No,” Rocco replied brokenly after a few seconds of thought.

“We’re going to be smart about this, and then we’ll make a sweet fucking example of the fucker who did this, won’t we?”

“Yeah…” Rocco nodded, sniffling. His eyes closed, and we stayed like that for a long few minutes. I didn’t let him go until I was certain he had gathered himself together.

“Vito is convinced it was the Russians,” Rocco said, finally stepping back and returning to the mirror.

“Why?” I asked, brushing Rocco’s shoulder. “He find something?”

“Nah, but there’s been a few territorial disputes lately. He reckons someone got too big for their boots.”

I snorted. “This is a bit more than that. Well, after today, I’ll look into it. The Irish Captain sent a basket to your mother, by the way.”

“A basket?”

“Yeah, fruit and shit. Wine. Some sort of sympathy thing. All the Russians sent was a letter saying that peace will remain as long as you don’t do anything irrational.”

“Me?” Rocco met my gaze in the mirror as he wiped his eyes. “I might kill the fucking Pakhan for saying that.”

“Let’s not talk about murdering any Family Heads until this is over, alright?” I puffed out my cheeks. “One funeral at a time, please.”

“You think I’d lose?” Rocco turned back to me, his mask slowly slipping back into place.

“I think you’re like a firework. One spark at the wrong time and…” I imitated the boom with my hands. Thankfully, Rocco snorted.

“The only spark I’m interested in is Mae. I saw her, y’know.”

“When?” My interest was immediately piqued, and not just because talking about her would be a decent distraction to calm Rocco down.

“Yesterday. She was here, in the graveyard.”

“What?” I frowned. “Why?”

“Her dad died. A few years ago. Carjacking.”

“Shit. I had no idea.”

“Me neither. I called her Mary and she looked ready to stab me. She definitely goes by Mae now.”

“Fuck. The one that got away. From both of us.”

“Mmhmm.” Rocco leaned back against the dresser. “You know, when I saw her, all I wanted to do was curl up in her lap and cry like a little kid. I looked at her, and I knew she understood how I was feeling. She was close to me, and I just… I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. I gave her some shitty apology, then I invited her to the funeral.”

Rocco’s head dropped forward while I laughed. “Wait, are you for real? Hi, Mae, I’m still in love with you. By the way, come to my dad’s funeral?”

“Basically.” Rocco snorted. “I could feel him rolling in his grave. He took us away all those years ago to keep us away from distraction, and then she just dropped back into my lap like that.”

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