Page 105 of Her Dark Salvation

I glanced over my shoulder. “If you were any other man, you’d already be dead.”

Weariness grabbed hold of my body, as if all ninety-four years caught up to me in that one moment. I sat down and retrieved my cigar. It had burned an inch while we’d talked, and I tapped the ash from its glowing red end before bringing it to my lips.

Luca stood between me and the exit, between understanding how deeply he’d violated our laws and the righteousness he thought justified his actions.

“You took an oath when you got made in the DeVita family, and you broke that oath. It’s well within my rights to kill you. But unlike you, I’ve never broken an oath in my life. Not to Cosa Nostra, not to the Valenzanos, and not to your father. I’m not going to start now.” I released a mouthful of smoke and met his eyes one last time. “You’re no longer part of the DeVita family. You’re Vinnie’s to deal with now, and I’ve never known Don Valenzano to suffer fools.”

Luca stiffened and sweat beaded his forehead. Vinnie was old school, like me, and his tolerance for violating Cosa Nostra law was exactly zero. For all Luca knew, he’d walk out of Vesuvio and straight into a bullet through his head. Just like his father, but without honor.

I bit the end of my cigar. “Now get out of my sight.”

Luca retrieved his coat, his motions slow and stiff. He reached the top of the spiral staircase and looked over his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Anna. I had no idea. But I’m not sorry for trying to get you involved or trying to avenge my father. The Shaughnessy’s day is coming.”

“Not before yours, Luca.”

He stared at me a heartbeat longer, then walked out the back door to where I knew Vinnie’s enforcer waited in the alley. I pulled out my phone.

He’s all yours.

Vinnie’s reply appeared immediately.

I’ll do right by Anna. And by Gina.

Grazie.

Gina had begged Vinnie to spare Luca’s life, and I’d let her. Vinnie wouldn’t kill him; he didn’t have to. Luca was a blood demon, and knowing Vinnie, Luca’d wish he was dead by the time Vinnie was through with him. Immortality wasn’t always a blessing. Some fates were far worse than death. Luca Moretti would reap what he’d sown.

How is she?

Stable.

Grazie a Dio.

We need a sit down. You and me. After this is over.

Let me know.

I tucked the phone back in my pocket and pushed myself to standing. I rubbed the back of my neck, stretching it, and walked behind the bar. I needed to get back to the hospital, but I needed a drink first, something to numb my nerves.

The silence in Vesuvio was deafening. I turned on the satellite radio. Frank Sinatra’s voice floated through the empty interior. I poured a finger of whiskey, shot it back, and poured two more. I leaned against the bar, crossed my ankles, and closed my eyes.

For better or worse, I’d done it my way. Standing there after all those years, I recognized my truth—I’d never really gotten out. I’d admitted as much to Siobhán at the hospital. What I had done was forge my own path through Boston’s underworld, one that I could live with. But going forward, I wouldn’t live in the space between worlds. I’d embrace my truth.

A made man in Cosa Nostra. The boss—the Don—of the DeVita crime family.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

Anna

The buzz of fluorescent lights and the beep of a heart monitor were background music to Jeff’s rhythmic snoring. I’d heard the thunderous rumble enough times in grad school to know it was him.

Light reflected off the glass of a generic flower print hanging on the beige wall in front of me. I stared at it, disoriented until I registered where I was—a hospital room. An IV ran from the inside of my right forearm to a bag of fluids hanging next to a heart monitor showing the steady beat of my pulse.

I turned my head toward the relentless snoring and winced at the ache it caused in my neck and shoulders. Jeff was slouched in a chair, arms crossed, head resting against the wall. His eyes were closed behind his glasses in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable sleep.

“Jeff.” His name came out more like a croak than a word. I cleared my throat; it was sore and dry. “Jeff.”

He started and sat up, blinking his eyes until they focused. “Anna. You’re awake,” he said, mystified and relieved. He pulled the chair over to my bedside and took my hand. “Thank God, you’re awake.” Tears pooled in his eyes, and I squeezed his hand.

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