Page 17 of Merciless Attraction

Streaks of red, pink, and white suds swirl with the water running into the grass beside the doorstep. There’s something about the way Antonio’s moss green eyes peel away every layer of lies I keep around my memories. I hate dwelling on what I’ve done, and it’s a weight I carry alone. I tried to tell him before, but he probably thought I was still drugged and talking nonsense.

I shake the memories of a past which chases me daily to focus on the task at hand. Frankie Genero stares up at me with lifeless eyes. It takes every ounce of strength not to drift into the endless replays of that night last year when I stared into lifeless eyes just like Frankie’s.

“Is your friend, Ronan, actually going to come back?” I ask Antonio as he stands back from the house.

Fresh cut grass leads to a hedge of trees so tall they remind me of Central Park. The home’s stucco white walls and black trim around the large windows is beautiful. I can imagine private parties and gatherings in this yard where the neighbors are envious if they don’t receive an invite. There’s no way to peek through the trees as their branches and leaves intertwine effortlessly, except for one slight break in the wall of green.

Antonio kneels down to scoop Frankie’s limp body over his shoulder and walks toward those tall hedges.

“I don’t know what Ronan’s doing,” Antonio says with his voice straining under the weight of Frankie’s body.

“Where are you taking him?” I call after him.

“Down to the beach. Cutting his hands off up here will ruin all the work we’ve done cleaning up the blood trail. Do me a favor and grab that bag I left by the shed.”

“I thought we were burning his fingerprints off.”

Antonio continues walking toward the trees, leaving me no choice but to get the bag and follow him. I give the house one more look and don’t see any more pools of blood. Relief washes over me that at least that part is taken care of.

As I watch the subtle bob of Frankie’s head over Antonio’s shoulder, another emotion washes over me. The men in my life, my fiancé and brothers, took care of a problem in a most extreme way even though it’s going to lead to a turf war. A war between families makes me feel like Helen of Troy, but I don’t want anyone else to die from what happened to me.

Hopefully this is the last we’ll have to deal with Frankie and his boss, Verducci, won’t look too hard into his disappearance.

There’s a slope of wide natural stone tiles heading from the tree line behind the house to a beach of pebbles and small rocks with hints of sand. Antonio’s heaving the body toward the water when he turns to me, sweat pouring down his forehead.

“I’m going to walk through the water around that bend. You can keep your feet dry. I don’t want to do anything to him that might get on the rocks. In case someonedoescome here looking for him, they don’t need to find any traces down here.”

He sets Frankie’s body down for a moment to step out of his shoes and roll up his pants. A part of me wonders if he’s going to take his shirt off too. Flashes of him underneath me, riding him to orgasmic bliss, is like tossing an ice cube into hot oil and explosive fantasies mingled with memories ripple across my imagination This isn’t supposed to be happening right now. I can’t allow myself to fantasize over Antonio at a time like this.

Instead of letting my mind run wild, I hang his shoes over the bag’s handle by the laces and follow Antonio along the shoreline. The cliffs form a secluded area of the beach around a jagged corner that makes me feel entirely too small when I look how high it reaches.

A beautiful mansion juts out of the cliffside nearly 40 feet above us. There’s a staircase carved into the mountain wall along with an array of footholds in different colors and pathways for someone who enjoys rock climbing. There’s also a steel barrel that’s seen its fair share of fires along with two beach chairs.

Someone obviously lives here. My heart races as I hear Antonio splashing closer to me. I don’t want anyone to see us hauling a dead body through their property.

“Bring that bag here, Gemma.” He orders with his expression set in determination as we begin to strip Frankie’s clothes off. I can’t stop looking at the stairs and house above. As if he’s reading my mind, Antonio reassures me. “This is a friend’s place, Gemma. It’s okay.”

“You have a lot of friends with beach front properties.”

He smirks and tries to lighten the mood as he jokes, “Technically, these are cliffside properties. We’re closer to Sea Cliff than Downtown.”

Real estate is the last thing I want to think about as I drop the bag on the beach and open it to see an antique set of medical tools. The most prominent one being a small hand saw which I pull out and hold up into the sunlight.

“Is this sharp enough to do this quickly?” I ask him. I don’t want to have the image of Antonio hacking Frankie to bits and me sitting on the beach watching it like a butcher at a barbecue pit.

“There’s an attachment that oscillates,” he pauses as if trying to read if I understand his wording.

That irritates me. “I know how power tools work, Antonio. You’re going to use that thing like an electric carver.”

He holds his hands up in surrender with a slight tip of his head. “My apologies. I’ll have to stop underestimating you. Take his stuff and burn it in that barrel. I’ll manage the chum, here.”

I can’t stop the way my face twists in disgust at the visual. I’m used to being underestimated. He’s not the first and won’t be the last.

Antonio chuckles. “Don’t get squeamish on me now, Gem. This was your idea. A great one, too.”

“You’re the doctor, you’re used to seeing dead bodies, and I said burn the fingerprints off. I don’t need to see you do an autopsy”

“I’m offended you think I’m that shitty of a doctor. If my patients are all dead, that doesn’t say much about my abilities.”

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