Page 33 of Straightened Out

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, touching his forehead to mine. “I’m so fucking sorry you had to see any of what you saw tonight. That my life bled into yours.”

My hands cover his on my face as tears roll down my cheeks. I cry for him. For me.

For the girl who lost her life and my brother who is alone, mourning her.

I cry because even though I had an idea of what Rocco and Joaquin were becoming under Victor Pastore’s thumb, I never imagined any of this. Where I come from, you hear the word mob and you automatically think lavish lifestyle. You picture Victor Pastore and his flamboyant ways, beating court cases and hosting a firework display on the Fourth of July that makes the Macy’s show look weak. You think about his wife, the classy woman who sits behind him in the courtroom and hands out gourmet candy apples to Trick or Treaters. You don’t think of the men under him that keep him in his throne and all the bodies they’ve collected. You don’t ever think that one day you’ll be standing in a shower washing someone’s blood from your skin.

A heavy knock sounds on the bathroom door, jarring both of us and Rocco drops his hands away from my face.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” he says hoarsely. Then he pauses to swallow. “You may think I’m a monster now, and maybe I am, but as long as I’m alive, I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

He turns to open the shower door and I lean my back against the cold tile, watching as he steps out. His designer suit clings to his body like a second skin. He stops at the vanity and opens the medicine cabinet. Grabbing an orange prescription bottle from the shelf, he sets it on top of the counter and turns back to me.

“Follow the directions on the bottle. It will help you relax,” he says.

Then with another fleeting glance in my direction, he exits the bathroom. I close my eyes and I sink to floor of the shower. Bringing my knees to my chest, I tip my chin toward the spray of water and let the water rain down on me.

The water may wash away the blood, but it doesn’t wash away the sins that were committed tonight.

Nothing washes that away.

Chapter 11

Rocco Spinelli

The second I step out of the bathroom, my gut churns with something I can’t quite place. It’s foreign and something a man like me has no place for in his life. I force myself to ignore it, to bury it deep where it doesn’t have a chance of ever resurfacing.

There’s work to do.

Sins to repent.

Vengeance to be had.

A fucking empire that needs ruling.

I lift my head and find Omar standing in the middle of my bedroom, his arms crossed against his chest. He takes in my soaking wet appearance and narrows his eyes.

Don’t try to figure me out, pal.

It’s a waste of time.

“Should I call Joaquin?” he questions, his gaze darting behind me at the closed door. “That’s his sister, no?” I scoff, shrugging my jacket off. It drops to the floor with a thud as I mull over his words. One would automatically assume he wants to call Joaquin because of Violet, but there is doubt in his eyes. He doesn’t know what went down, he’s just certain I’m not fit to handle it.

Perceptive.

And probably not wrong either.

But I’m the one who called him.

I’m the one who ordered him and Manny to meet me at my apartment.

I pull my shirt out from the waistband of my pants and wring the ends. Water drips to the floor and I shake my head. I don’t know what the fuck came over me but the second Violet started losing it, I stared at the blood splattered across her chest and I snapped. I didn’t know how Pilar’s blood wound up on her, but I couldn’t handle the sight of it staining her flawless skin. Even though I knew it wasn’t her blood, a little voice in the back of my head reminded me that it could’ve been and that fucking gutted me.

Making quick work of the buttons on my shirt, I reach for my belt. My hands pause and I look back at Omar who still stands in front of me with a perplexed expression on his face.

Arching an eyebrow, I ask, “Think you can give me a minute?”

It’s not really an odd request seeing as how I’m fucking soaked, yet he looks at me like I just asked him for a kidney or something. A good thirty seconds go by before he even blinks.

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