Page 40 of Wild Card

My knees shake, his putrid breath, a disgusting mix of cheap wine and two-dollar cigars, makes my already upset stomach worse. His face is a mess. One of his front teeth has been knocked out.

Good.

I won’t beg him to let me go. I refuse. Not this man.

He pushes his face against my neck, and I close my eyes.

“You’re a pretty girl, honey. It’s no wonder my nephew is sweet on you. It’s a shame what will happen with Freddie, though.”

A woman’s voice calls from downstairs.

“Renzo! What are you doing?”

He keeps me pinned against the door and shouts down the stairs.

“It’s fine, Mama. Everything’s fine.”

My feelings for Gio are complicated. I’m angry at him. But even though he’s made some enormous mistakes, deep down I believe he’s a good man. And he loves his grandmother, which makes me hope she’s good too, and that Lorenzo is the outlier. I take a deep breath and scream for help.

“You fucking bitch!”

He turns on me and pulls his hand back to hit me. I brace myself, but the blow never comes. I will my eyes to open, and a small, plump, white haired lady holds Lorenzo’s arm.

“Who is this girl? And why are you going to hit her? Cavalo, Renzo, what have you done?”

“Mama, don’t worry. She’s no one.” His voice is cajoling.

“Gesu Cristo. It’s that girl they’re looking for. Carney’s daughter.” She levels him with a gaze that would bring the strongest man to his knees, let alone a piece of shit like Lorenzo.

“Leave, Renzo. I’ve indulged you because you were my baby, and after I lost my Dante, and then your father, you and Gio were all I had left. I thought Gio needed a strong man in his life, but that’s not you.”

Her voice wavers, and she starts to cry, but spits at his feet.

“How could you do this thing?”

“Mama, please,” Lorenzo begs. He lets me go and turns to his mother. “Don’t give up on me. I just made a mistake and things got out of hand. I owe Freddie a lot of money and…”

She spits again and slaps her son hard across the face. I hope it increases his pain exponentially.

“You work for the man who unseats your father and you think I should care for that? No, Renzo. I want you gone, out of my house, out of my life.”

She pushes past him and wraps her plump arms around me. I want to sag against her, but I keep myself upright.

“This girl is my guest and you don’t touch her. I may not be as powerful as my husband was, but I still have connections in this city, Renzo, and back home in Boston. You bother either of us and I’ll take care of you before Freddie has a chance to.”

“But Mama, James Carney stole the bakery from us. That girl…”

She lets out a string of Italian curse words. Finn would know exactly what she’s saying—he’s fluent in several languages—but I get the general idea from her tone.

“And you’d bring that evil man back into our lives? You’d take your pain out on this girl instead of being a man and providing for your family? Get out of my house!”

His face crumbles and he starts bawling like a child. I almost feel bad for him. Human emotions are strange. He cries for his mother’s forgiveness, but she keeps her arms wrapped firmly around me and walks me down the stairs and into her apartment.

It smells like the best red sauce you’ve ever tasted. She walks me to the kitchen, which is decorated in bright yellows and blues, with shelving holding all kinds of dishes, pots and pans lining the walls. Every inch of the space is full of cookware or little tchotchkes. It’s crowded, but homey. Like a movie version of an Italian grandmother’s house.

She sits me down on a wooden chair that has an embroidered floral cushion lining it. I could probably leave if I wanted—run out while she rummages around in the kitchen, but then I might encounter Lorenzo, and I want no part of that. It’s obvious now why Gio fought so hard to keep this woman safe, and I don’t want to be the reason she’s harmed either. She places a pot on the stove and flicks the burner on, letting the contents heat while she comes to the table with a small glass of red liquid.

“Drink this,” she says. “It’ll help.”

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