Page 26 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
I owe her, and unfortunately him.
Three months. Then I’ll quit and return home, in time for fall classes.
Three months to convince her he’s not worth her tears.
CHAPTER 4
SANDRO
Beep.Beep. Beep.
I blink slowly, groaning as the pain slices through every part of me—my head, my body, my pride.
“Finally decided to grow a set of balls, huh?”
The voice is unmistakable. I force my good eye open, and sure enough, it’s Renzo. And I’m in a hospital room, tangled in a mess of tubes and wires, hooked up like Frankenstein’s monster with the relentless beeping of machines echoing in my ears. The pain is sharp and unyielding, cutting through the haze of medication.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Shit is right. You’d better have your story straight before Father arrives.”
I turn my head in the opposite direction. My brother is seated in a chair he pulled up beside my bed. Alive—and not a sitting duck in the rehab center my father had him locked away in.
“There’s a hit …”
“Yeah. Mafiosi showed up at the center, looking for me.” He flashes me a weak smile. “But I’d had enough of vinyasa yoga, green smoothies, and Sergeant Dickwad and his hellish goons. I’m not fucking military material.”
Military or mafia material. Renzo can whup ass—and we often go at it—but his heart’s butter, when this lifestyle requires ice.
The softhearted prick.
“Where am I?” I croak, my voice shit.
“Providence Hospital.”
Rhode Island, from some urine-infested New York side street? I don’t remember anything after I escaped.
“Does he know?” I demand with all the strength I have.
“About the hit … well, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Didn’t he just butcher Bible Belt Benny? Benny’s men were bound to retaliate …”
“Does he know I was ambushed?” I burst out, interrupting his wrong assumptions.
“You mean is Father furious you ignored the lockdown?” He grins like a madman. “Oh, yeah. If I were you, I’d get my story straight, and fast.”
The cords attached to me tangle as I shift in bed. I hate them. I hate feeling weak and vulnerable. Most of all, I hate that my father knows I’m responsible for this, that I was nearly killed, that I made our family look weak.
“You look ready to strangle someone,” my twin comments.
“Lean closer, and you’ll find out.”
He laughs. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud you showed some balls. You … disobeying an order? Not being the great Sebastiano Beneventi’s bitch? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Call me a bitch once more,” I grind out, “and you’ll be lying in this bed.”
“And offer Sergeant Dickwad an opportunity to haul me back to Maine? Not on my life.”
His life …
