Page 7 of Brutal Legacy

“Still, I didn’t intend to see her again,” I pointed out, knowing the battle was lost. My capo’s mind was made up.

Renato’s hand landed on my shoulder. It reminded me of that day, a lifetime ago, when we’d first met, and I’d tried to steal his wallet, only to get caught immediately and hauled in front of the prosecutor.

“It seems like fate has other plans for you.”

2

ELIO

Then

Imade it to the third day in Castel Amaro, when I knew I had to find a way to eat. The village was tiny, a speck on a map. I had caught a ride that far with a farmer. Hitching on the back of someone’s truck was easy enough. He’d caught me at a rest stop on the outskirts of the village and run me off with a shotgun.

So much for the countryside being friendlier than the city.

I was heading south. I needed to get the hell out of Napoli and the legacy my father had left me… son of a rat.

I wandered during the day, keeping out of sight of the locals, and slept in someone’s barn at night. There was a hole in the roof, and through it, I watched the stars.

I missed my home. Napoli. They called it the city of the seven castles, but I’d always think of it as the city of thieves. It stole your heart, while its inhabitants stole everything else. Well, at least they had in my neighborhood.

My father had worked for a local Mafia and done a shit job of it. When he went down, he’d rolled over and sang like a birdie for the local police and made it impossible to stay in the city. Then the family he’d ratted on got to him and he’d joined my mother in the dirt. There was only me and my little sister, Giada, left. The state sent her to stay with some distant relatives they’d dug up from somewhere, whereas me? I was on my own. I was old enough to take care of myself and answer for my old man’s crimes… I couldn’t have stayed in the city. That life, and everyone I’d ever known, was over for me.

It was better that Giada was with family right now. They could at least feed her. She could sort out the rest herself. She might be small, but she was mighty. Once I was settled somewhere, had a job and a way to support her, I’d steal her out of her bedroom one night. The Santori siblings belonged together.

The aroma of roasted lamb threaded through the air, making my stomach cramp painfully. Fuck, I was hungry. I’d been hungry before. Since our patriarch was arrested and then died in prison for being a rat, there had been more than enough nights when I’d gone to sleep starving. Somehow, caring for my sis had pushed the mundane needs of the body out of my head. Today, I had nothing to distract me from the certain knowledge that if I didn’t get something to eat today, tomorrow, walking, stealing, or just standing upright would be a challenge.

The church bells rang overhead. It was Sunday, and the locals of Castel Amaro were out in full force for church and lunch, andpasseggiata. It was the time to see and be seen, and I had my eye on someone in particular.

There was a family in town that was miles above the others in terms of wealth. An older, distinguished-looking man, and a younger man who could be his son, or even grandson.

Lifting one of their wallets would ensure a full belly for more than a few nights.

I waited until the men retired to the bar inside the restaurant where they’d just eaten a lavish lunch, and when one went to the bathroom, I made my move.

It was a tinytaverna, and the bathroom hall was cramped. I peeked into the bathroom through a crack in the door. My mark smoked a cigarette at the window, leaning on the sill and talking on the phone in a rapid stream of English.

His cigarettes and lighter were perched on top of his wallet behind him, beside the sink.

My first stroke of luck in years. Maybe ever.

Pushing the old door open only as far as I needed to snake my arm in, I reached for the wallet.

I moved slowly. Rushing caused mistakes. Holding my nerve for the endless amount of time it took to reach out and grab the soft leather felt impossible, but somehow, I managed it. It wasn’t like pickpocketing clueless tourists in Piazza Garibaldi. It was quiet here, and there was nowhere to run if the man turned around.

I gripped the wallet, tilting it so the cigarette pack and lighter slid off quietly. There was a small clatter, but the man was talking so loudly he didn’t hear. I retracted my arm, my whole body sweating. Gently, I pulled my arm through the gap in the door and let it fall shut.

I’d done it.

Somehow, I’d done it.

“What are you doing?” The voice just beside me sent my hands flying up defensively.

“Hey!” the person exclaimed as my fist met soft skin.

A young woman stood in front of me, her hands on her slim hips, glaring up at me.

Her cheek was red where I’d hit her to shove her back.

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