Page 98 of His Dark Vendetta

I stared into my coffee. I couldn’t imagine Luca letting go of his vendetta, and that knowledge roiled, a rotting pit in my already sour stomach. “I know.”

“One last thing, then I’ll let it go. What you do in your private life is your business, but I need you to listen to me on this.” His voice took on an urgent quality and drew my gaze up to the grave expression on his face. “There’s something different about the Italians. I know the stories sound like old-world superstition, but…”

He examined me, lips tight and assessing. I knew my cousin. He wasn’t sure he could trust me but couldn’t chance the outcome if he didn’t.

“I have deals in the works to protect us, to protect our family. And that means finishing the job my father started and ridding Boston of the Italian Mafia once and for all. But I need you to be honest with me.”

I scoffed. “I hope you don’t mean getting in bed with the feds like Uncle Paddy. That’s as bad as being a rat. And honest about what? I’ve never lied to you.”

“There’s evidence—evidence that those old stories aren’t just stories. That there’s something unnatural about that crew. If I help them find more, they’ve assured me leeway with my businesses. Certain… protections.”

“You can’t be that stupid, Ciarán. Trusting the feds? Are you kidding? At least the Mafia has honor, a code of ethics they refuse to break. The only thing the feds care about is themselves. As soon as they finish with the Mafia, they’ll turn on you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. This is bigger than organized crime, Vahnie. Much bigger.”

I stared back at him, dumbfounded by his blind eye.

“Did you ever notice anything different about Moretti?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Different how?”

“His eyes. His teeth. Did he ever try to bite you?”

Adrenaline shot into my system. “What?” I shook my head like it needed a reset to hear him properly. “What are you talking about?”

He examined me again, searching my face for a sign. “Nothing,” he said, apparently satisfied when all he saw was shock. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

But it wasn’t nothing. That feeling returned, the one where I knew a connection existed, nagging to be discovered, but my brain couldn’t quite make the leap.

Ciarán glanced at his watch. “I gotta go. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. Be careful, okay? Promise me you’ll watch your back?”

“Promise,” I said, barely registering the question with the scenes and sensations flooding my mind.

He nodded, kissed me on the cheek, and walked out the door.

I moved on autopilot—topping off my coffee, opening the living room drapes, curling my feet under me on the corner of the couch. Instead of the trees and powerlines outside my window, crimson flecks in eyes as black as night filled my vision. They glinted under the lights of an otherwise dark room, glowing a rich crimson.

Luca flashed an angry sneer in his kitchen, revealing an eyetooth longer and sharper than I’d remembered. The next time he showed his teeth, the pointed tip was gone.

Dominic sat on the counter in The Dollhouse’s dressing room covered in blood. It spread across his stomach and shoulder. Luca said he hadn’t been shot in the stomach. Dominic said the bullet had only grazed his shoulder. Neither matched what I’d seen. Dom had been shot twice, one of the bullets lodged in his shoulder, and the other went straight through his stomach. He was fine less than a week later.

Luca’s mouth pressed against a woman’s neck at Vesuvio. Mia’s neck turned toward the mirror revealing an angry hickey.He barely even bit you.The dancer’s chiding words directed at Jenny.

My fingers brushed the spot on my neck where I’d felt a sharp pinch the night Luca and I first made love. I hadn’t given it a second thought, too caught up in the other sensations dominating my pleasure. But now? Something had pierced my skin, and when he ran his tongue over the same spot, it tingled.

The devil in ’em.Da’s accented rant had me crawling off the couch and fishing Tums out of my purse.

The stories were just that—stories. Weren’t they? And it’s not like Ciarán had given me any proof that the feds had evidence. They probably hadn’t given him any either. He was too blinded by the idea he could eliminate his competition by playing nice with the real enemy. But what if they weren’t stories? What if something unnatural was the connection I’d missed all along?

I popped a Tums into my mouth, climbed back into the corner of the couch, and let out a long, tired breath. The past week had felt like a month, but I still had another week of vacation, and I was going to use it to find a new job. My plan to distance myself from the DeVitas hadn’t changed. And I wasn’t involved with Luca. Not anymore.

I set my coffee on the windowsill and hugged one of the throw pillows to my chest. It didn’t soothe the heartache, but then again, I wasn’t sure anything would. How I still had feelings for that chaotic, troubled, and potentially demonic man frustrated the hell out of me. Maybe because I knew the fallout could have been much worse, and he spared me the pain.

Nothing about us had ever been simple. Or rational. This latest development was par for the course. Vampire? Sure! Why not! The only way to guarantee some other catastrophe wouldn’t materialize was to remove myself from any situation where we might run into each other. Should be easy once I broke ties with Terme di Boston.

Time heals all wounds—wasn’t that the saying? In time, the heartache and my feelings for Luca would fade.

There was another saying—out of sight, out of mind. That was the tough part. Time would only work its magic if I could stay away.

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