Page 91 of Her Dark Salvation

I wiped the dripping sweat from my face with bloody fingers. Vito was right, as usual. But fuck if Angelo wasn’t right, too. Luca was volatile, and I had always looked the other way. How was a father supposed to find fault with his son?

The rage coursing through my veins was directed at myself as much as Luca. I’d failed him. I’d failed Tony. And once again I’d failed Gina; this shit was going to kill her.

Vito’s eyes dimmed, and he joined Carmine and Angelo against the ropes, arms crossed.

I unwound the bloody tape from my knuckles and tossed it in the trash. “I take full responsibility for this mess. Not just Luca, but the other shit with the Irish and the feds.”

I’d told them about the conversation with Vinnie during my first round of pummeling the bag. They’d been a part of my crew since I broke with the Valenzanos, and it was time to stop pretending we were anything but what we were—a family in Cosa Nostra. It was all or nothing. Anything in between would get us killed.

“This half-assed shit stops today. Two weeks,” I said and pointed at each of them. “You have two weeks to figure out who else is involved.” I shifted my gaze between Angelo and Carmine. “I need the two of you to stick around till this is sorted. Ears to the ground. Call in favors but keep it discreet. I want to know what we’re up against before I decide what to do about Luca and how we move forward with Vinnie.”

“All you had to do was say the word,” Carmine said.

I looked between the three men—my capi, my brothers. They each gave me a short nod.

Spent from the bag, I ran a hand through my sweaty hair and turned for the locker room, but a shower and food would only do so much. I needed to feed. I also needed to see Anna. I hungered to see Anna, but there was no way I could control myself around her in this state.

Guilt punched me in the chest thinking of visiting one of my Sources. Anna’s voice when she’d asked about feeding and why I didn’t bite her… It had sounded so small, so hesitant. But for me, feeding for pleasure was a bond that would last eternity. I wasn’t ready to make that commitment. Especially when she was better off without me. I hated myself for letting things progress this far.

“Vito.” I leaned a hand against the entrance to the locker room and glanced over my shoulder. “Get one of the emergency blood bags out of the freezer.”

He lifted an eyebrow, and Angelo and Carmine cast suspicious glances at each other.

“Just fucking do it,” I snarled, and walked into the showers.

* * *

Anna opened her front door,and the tension in my chest eased. She wore black leggings and an oversized Harvard Hockey sweatshirt, so worn the lettering was faded and the cuffs were frayed. Between the messy bun on top of her head and the pair of round glasses that covered half her face, she’d never looked more beautiful.

I lifted the box I carried, wrapped my other arm around her waist, and picked her up.

“You brought Mike’s Pastry,” she cooed through a giant smile and held my face between her hands. I kissed her gently and walked us into the foyer, kicking the door shut behind me. I set her down, and she clasped her hands behind my neck.

“Ricotta pie.” I kissed her nose. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I don’t. I was reading. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“Readers?”

“Yup.” She dropped her arms and took the box by its strings. “I suppose blood demons don’t have to worry about that when they reach their mid-forties.” She put the box on the island between the kitchen and her living room.

I quirked the corner of my mouth. It was as close to a smile as I could manage given the day I’d had and the dread pooling in my stomach at the reminder of her humanity and my immortality.

She tilted her head and scanned my face. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“That good, huh?”

She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Handsome as ever. Why don’t you have a seat. Relax. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

She hurried off to the kitchen, and I stared after her in awe. The reassuring warmth of her presence. Having someone take care of me that wasn’t Gina. Quiet companionship on her couch. It was nice. Complicated and unnerving, but nice.

I hung my coat and suit jacket on the hook near the door, unfastened my cufflinks, and rolled up my shirtsleeves while I glanced around the condo. It had been dark the other night when I’d visited, and we’d gone straight to her bedroom.

The entryway and living room were decorated in muted blues and toasted browns. She had one of those fake fireplaces across from her plush, suede sofa, and it blazed and crackled like it was real. A big area rug covered the hardwood between the couch and the faux fireplace along with a square coffee table. Atop the distressed wood sat a neat arrangement of cream-colored candles, a bowl of fresh-cut flowers, and a coffee table book about the history of Boston. A paperback romance novel sat next to it, and the top of a glittery pink bookmark peeked out from between its pages.

Warm, inviting, and cozy, the space screamed Anna, and it was about a million light years away from the world I’d just left. A world of embezzling nephews, rival gangs, and federal surveillance. In her space, there was peace.

I sat at the end of the couch, and Anna’s cat appeared out of nowhere and climbed into my lap. “Hello,” I said and petted its gray and white fur. It started purring and kneading its claws into my custom-tailored slacks.

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