Page 31 of Wild Card

“I never thought I’d see the day where you chose some broad over family.”

My entire body clenches. I imagine the pleasure I’d feel smashing Lorenzo’s ungrateful head into the vanity mirror until there’s nothing left of him. But he knows I won’t disrespect Nonna’s house by spilling his blood here, and the fact that he’s using family against me while accusing me of not caring about family has me nearly blacking out from rage. What if I do, and when I come to his lifeless body is at my feet? I’d feel nothing but relief. But I remember how Nonna cried when my father died—in loud, agonizing sobs that I thought would break her in half.

And that was when she was still young. Still had her husband. How could she cry like that now, knowing it was her grandson who dispatched her son, and survive it? I have every right to kill this man, but at what cost?

“You got yourself into this mess, Renzo. You never should’ve worked with Freddie. Hell, I don’t know how you could after how he treated your father.”

“Papa made mistakes and paid for them. I wasn’t going to let his fuck ups keep me from making money. Like I said, I worked my ass off for Papa. I was a good son. I gave up my youth for him, and he still liked Dante better even after he left the family business to open that fucking bakery you’re obsessed with. And what do either of us have to show for that?”

How long has this resentment been there? Or have I just missed it? Dante was my father. How much about their relationship do I not know?

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I say. “But this is wrong, and you know it.”

Lorenzo turns to me, the desperate anger in his eyes throwing me.

“Help me grab the younger sister, Gio. Getting that money is the only way to keep your girlfriend safe, and you know I’m right.”

He says girlfriend like it’s a slur. As if I wouldn’t be the luckiest man alive to have Catriona as a girlfriend. Any man would. But that’s not what’s happening here.

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t want any woman to end up in Freddie’s clutches. I’m not trading one for another.”

His eyes go cold then.

“Carney owes us. One way or another I’m getting that money. And you can’t watch both of those girls all the time. They have until the end of this week, Gio. That’s it. By the end of the week, I’m dumping one little bitch for another.”

“I warned you about talking about women like that in Nonna’s house.”

She’s not a bitch, and he’s not going to hurt her. I won’t let him. I’m not sure how yet, but I won’t. Giving him up to the cops obviously won’t help, and reasoning with Freddie is out of the question. But maybe I could offer him something else in exchange. I’ll have to think about that.

“Kid,” he says. “Don’t get soft on me. If we’re careful we can make sure everyone gets out of this alive.”

He doesn’t give a fuck about anyone’s life but his own. But he knows that I do, and he’s using that to manipulate me.

And if those women end up with Freddie, they may live, but wish they were dead. A shudder runs through me.

I need to come up with a plan, but the first part is getting Catriona strong again. To what end I’m not sure, but it’s a goal I can commit to. I leave my uncle and head to the grocery store, buying the items Nonna suggested.

I can’t stop thinking about how her father talked to that reporter. Like Catriona is a non-entity.

My parents had always loved me.

Even my mother, who would’ve been horrified to know I’d found her. I was supposed to be away at camp when she died, but I’d gotten a horrible feeling and came home early.

Maybe Nonna was right. Maybe that’s why she visits my dreams so often.

Maybe I should be mad at her for leaving me, but I never have been. I’ve always just been pissed at Carney for causing the circumstances that took her from me.

Back home, I pick up the broth from my grandmother and head upstairs. I knock on the bedroom door. I have a key to the deadbolt, but I’m not going to force myself inside unless I think something is wrong.

I hear a soft rustling.

“It’s Gio,” I say. “Just me.”

The bolt clicks, and Catriona opens the door.

She looks sleepy, her hair messy and her eyes heavy-lidded. I feel a ridiculous urge to hold her. Her tank top hugs her breasts, and has ridden up a little, exposing her midriff.

She’s exquisite.

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