Page 14 of Dangerous Vengeance

The Italians were targeting her and just found a convenient way to make it look casual instead of like a hit. Only, what they don’t realize is that I’ve figured it out. My family only knew of their need for revenge, but now we know more. Their real target that day was Natalie and that infuriates me. Sure, she stuck her nose where it shouldn’t belong, but her uncle was an innocent bystander and dragging innocent men into our game isn’t a gentlemanly thing to do.

I shut the laptop and think about how all this has affected her. She respected her uncle so much because he was integral to raising her. From everything I can tell, he lived with them for much of her childhood and his intimate care shaped everything from her desire to pursue journalism to her choice to remain chaste until she married. The man has a rosary around his neck in every picture I found of him. It was definitely his religious influence that impressed upon her the need to keep herself.

“Hmm…” I rise and head for the kitchen. Natalie is probably hungry by now. Maybe she will be a little more open to speaking with me about her research if I offer her a white flag of surrender in the form of food. I don’t think we’re on opposite sides of the fence anymore, and I’ll have to show her that. My family does sell guns to illegals and militia groups aimed at protecting freedoms. Sure, Sven has had his dealings with other families too, trying to balance the powers that be to keep crime down on the streets. But we aren’t just murderers and thieves. We may use uncouth methods, and sometimes we break the law to do the right thing, but every one of us knows that we do what we do for our family. There is no greater virtue than loyalty.

I prepare a plate of cheese and crackers and a glass of tea, and head up to Natalie’s room. She has so much anger in her over what happened because it didn’t just happen to her uncle, and she can’t connect the pieces. She needs to be convinced that chasing down my family isn’t a good choice. I can help her get the revenge she seeks, but she has to partner with me. I know what it’s like to feel the need for revenge. I know the pain of losing someone so close to me, and after learning what I now know about Natalie, I feel somewhat guilty for allowing this all to happen to her on my watch.

She is, after all, just like me. I pursue justice and knowledge the same way she does. She just uses words to expose the truth, and I use my fists, or a knife, or a gun. Whatever happens to be at my side. The guilty fall and those who understand what is good and right in this world rise, all by my doing. By my family’s doing. I want to help her see that, and I want to help her feel relief from the pain of grieving.

I knock on the door and wait for her to say something, but there is rustling and no talking. So, I put the key in the lock and turn it. She’s been alone quite some time now and hopefully my presence will be welcome company and she will feel more cooperative. I enjoy teaching her lessons, but I’d rather just have the answers I need.

As I push the door open a burst of fresh air hits me and I smell the faint hint of rain. The room is dark, and I hear water pattering, which means the window is open. “Natalie?” I ask, walking in. I set the tray down on the table near the door and flip the light on to see her halfway out the window. A sheet, torn in strips and tied to the foot of the bed, dangles out the window and her disheveled hair frames her honey complexion.

“What the fuck!” I race over to the window as she yelps and tries to squirm out, gripping the sheet. “You bitch,” I snarl, grabbing her by the arm. She lets her weight drop and her legs dangle, but she doesn’t count on me being strong enough to heft her back in. I pull hard, hauling her across the windowsill until she drops to a heap on the floor.

“Ow, fuck… Ouch!” Natalie holds her stomach and winces. I see blood pepper the thin white material of the t-shirt I gave her. She’s not even dressed to go in the rain. She only has that shirt and a pair of gym shorts. Her clothing, torn in our first encounter, was tossed days ago, and the dress I let her borrow is no good for climbing out a window.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I pull on the sheet hard, tearing it. It falls freely out the window, which I shut and lock. “You’re going to kill yourself.” And get me killed too. Dominic will be furious if he learns how close she came to escaping. I knew she was bold; I just didn’t realize she was so fucking stupid.

“Fuck you!” she snaps, pushing herself off the ground. She stands, and I see her shorts and the back of her t-shirt are soggy, drenched in the rain now streaking down the windowpane.

“You realize that’s almost a thirty-foot drop? You’d have broken a limb.” I look at the mess she’s made of the room too, pillows strewn about, the comforter torn. She climbs onto the bed and crawls to the headboard but I’m furious. I grab her foot and pull her back down the bed and lean over her, glaring. “Say something!”

“I did. I said fuck you.” She spits in my face and pushes my chest and I swing my left hand hard across my body, backhanding her. She winces and covers her cheek.

“You’re going nowhere until you tell me what you know. How deep did you dig? What sort of damage control my family needs to get in place. You really want to die, don’t you? You don’t even see that I’m trying to find a way to do this without you getting yourself killed.” The words come out as I think them, a horrible trait of mine. It’s true. I don’t want her killed any more than I want anyone else killed. It may be a necessary evil but if I can stop it I will.

My chest tightens as she heaves herself into my arm and rolls away, racing toward the door where I chase her and pin her against the wood. Fucking her has done something to me, made me weak or something. All I can think about is this insane obsession she has with justice or revenge. All I want to do is figure out why she does what she does, why she is hunting us. Make her see that we’re not worth hunting, that I can make her goal of revenge successful.

“Stop fighting me and fucking listen.” I grip her arms at the wrist and pin them over her head and she brings her knee up hard into my groin. I drop to my knees and take her with me, refusing to let go of her even as my stomach feels like someone shoved a knife through my prostate and up inside of me. I suck air like it’s going to disappear, and she kicks my side.

“Let me go. You don’t even fucking understand what it’s like. Do you!” She kicks harder, but I tighten my muscles and take it. I train for this every week—the pot shots taken during a fist fight. My abs are strong enough to take a few good punches, but my groin is on fire.

“Stop it,” I shout, pulling her wrists so hard she sprawls on the floor face down. I let go of her wrists and put my knee in her back, holding her there while I catch my breath. It’s painful and she still tries to wrestle away from me, but I hold her down long enough to fight through the intense feeling that I may vomit. I grab her by the hair and slowly stand, dragging her with me, then push her back onto the bed and stand next to it heaving. She’s given me a run for my money, but I bested her.

“You don’t get it.” She’s sobbing now, curled in a ball and covering her face. “You don’t fucking get it!”

“I get it. You want revenge so badly you don’t care who you take down. It doesn’t even have to be true.”

She swings her foot out at me and I dodge it, then climb on top of her and pin her arms over her head, straddling her waist so she can’t move. She screams and writhes beneath me and I’m forced to smack her face again to get her to calm down. Fuck, Natalie, why are you acting like this?

“He’s there! Every time I close my eyes. He’s there. And I have to find him and make him pay.” Her eyes are alight with fire. “In my nightmares. In my dreams. When I’m awake. Fuck’s sake. Just let me go.”

“I get it!” I scream, leaning down in her face with such a loud volume it startles her to silence. “I get it,” I say calmly. “I know the feeling of wanting revenge. I know the thirst for blood. I know the pain of having someone you love, someone you looked up to and depended upon, being torn from your life.” My chest is heaving as I stare into her eyes and see recognition dawning.

“You what?”

“My mother was violently raped, Natalie. She took her own life because of the trauma, after months of watching her lie in bed unmoving, crying. In pain.” I squeeze her arms tighter as the memory of watching her casket descend into the earth comes to mind. “I know. I get it. You just can’t be fucking stupid about it, and you have to work with me or you’re going to be right alongside him in the cemetery.”

She narrows her eyes at me and blinks slowly. She has to listen to me because if she doesn’t Dominic is going to have her killed, and maybe at one point I would have done it, but now I know I want her in my house. I want her as my own. Natalie and I are kindred spirits. And she’s mine now.

“You what?” she asks, but I don’t even answer her. I just stare at her, scowling, demanding with my gaze that she obey me now. And she does something shocking.

She kisses me.

9

NATALIE

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