Page 27 of The Enforcer

12Zoe

“No,”I tell Alfonso for the third time since we got off the boat at the makeshift harbor in Positano.

I feel as if the past five hours have been some kind of beautiful nightmare; absolutely fantastic views but a horrible plot. I want to wake up, or at least start over now that I’m semi-conscious. I want a chance to change things, starting with this steep ass set of stone steps winding up the side of this mountain.

“I refuse,” I tell Alfonso.

He laughs, but he doesn’t stop trudging up, up, up.

“Why can’t we stay somewhere down here?” I whine.

“There’s nothing down here besides the beach, restaurants, and shops. Even the hotels are up in the mountain.”

“Why? How? Why would someone do this?”

Alfonso shrugs. “It’s just how it is and how it’s always been.”

“There’s no elevator?”

“Not to where we’re going.” He turns around and stops walking.

I stop walking as well and huff, trying to get more air into my lungs than might actually exist in this place.

“There’s another way,” he says.

“Finally.”

“Some people use donkeys,” he begins to say.

“Fuck you,” I wheeze and begin to walk, bumping into his arm. But he’s so goddamn big and solid that I’m the one knocked unsteady on my feet. His hand wraps around my waist unexpectedly to steady me, and I jolt, jumping from his grip.

He laughs and presses me forward, following close behind, huffing as well. “You should pace yourself,” he says. “Two hundred and fifty steps is a lot to handle, especially the first time.”

My feet stop, and I turn to him. “How many?!” I scream. I ignore the people stopping to stare at me. I don’t care what anyone thinks right now because I’m already so goddamn tired.

“Don’t worry,” he says, patting me on the small of my back. “The first time is always the worst, but after that’s, it’s a breeze.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” I tell him.

He smiles. “I am. That’s why I’m the muscle.”

My legs are on fire. My chest feels like it’s full of nothing but stitches. Hell, even my ass hurts. I wince as I collapse onto the low stone wall standing between the steps and a steep cliff.

“I hate you,” I pant.

We’ve made it to wherever the fuck Alfonso is going to stash me away from the gang war brewing in Naples. I’m so winded that for the first time, I’m not thinking about my sister being in the middle of all that probable danger or the fact that Salvo is taking Shae somewhere so private that they don’t even tell us the exact location. Just in case. I’m so tired that I can’t even worry about what the Aunties will think about all this mess. I’m so tired that I would prefer to return to the nightmare I thought I was living in at the bottom of the mountain. Before I knew exactly how much pain two hundred and fifty steps could inflict on my body.

“That’s okay. You made it, and that’s all that matters. I’m proud of you.” He’s deposited our bags at the front of this large wooden door set into the mountain.

If I were less exhausted, I would marvel at how beautiful the scenery is. If I didn’t feel as if one of my lungs was on the verge of collapse, I might even find the breath to thank him for carrying my suitcase and his bags up the steps as well. But I’m close to death’s door — I swear it — and I don’t have time for good manners.

“I hope you die.” It actually hurts to say those words, so chances are high that I’ll die before he does, but a girl can dream.

As usual, he laughs. “You might be the most beautiful person to ever wish death on me. I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He straightens up and pulls a key on a long chain from his bag, and unlocks the beautiful wooden door. “Can you walk a few more meters?”

I don’t know what I hate most; the adorably boyish smile on his face, the gentle tenor of his voice, or myself because I actually like both of those things.

“As soon as I can feel my legs again, you better feed me,” I tell him.

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