What was so fucking wrong with that? I was going to say it, but I ignored her and started to walk off. Sometimes it was better not to engage with Kee. She had a temper, and mine was flaring up, too. If we really started going at it, she might try to whack me over the head with the frame she bought me as a gift.
My boots stopped when I realized another set of boots were comings straight for me. Mac Macchiavello hit my lawn, then his fist slammed into my face. I’d been ready for it.
This fight had been a long time coming. And his wife had nothing to do with it. Yeah, she showed up here, but Georgina was here, too. Which one was he fighting for? Because I sure the hell knew which woman I’d die for.
My neighbors started bringing out chairs, like this was a fighting match and they had free seats. Because no matter how hard he hit, I gave it right back to him. We were like two dogs fighting over a bone. I just had no clue which bone he was fighting for. Or maybe he was fighting for both.
I always thought there was something suspicious about the situation between him and Mari. The proposal came out of nowhere, and it all happened so fast.
Was it another situation like Elias and Miles? But this one with Mac and Mari? I didn’t see Mari being the type to share, but I didn’t see her marrying Macchiavello, either. Did he have multiple women? If so, that was Mari’s issue with him, but Georgina wasn’t going to be one of them.
I’d put my anger aside earlier when I remembered the scene at the gates in Modica, when he was hugging Georgina while his wife was probably someplace close by. It had felt like he’d stolen a vital part of me. Her. But that was earlier, and the words flew from my mouth with my fist.
“You stole her from me!”
He landed a blow to my ribs, and anoohsound came from the neighbors. “She’s always been mine, Harry Boy. You couldn’t steal her even if you tried. She’s in my fucking front pocket.”
Mari? Was he talking about Mari? He was. Even though I knew it was low, I said something I knew was going to piss him off.
I landed a blow to his mouth, and one of the neighbors hooted. “I told her.” I swung at him again but missed. He was quick. “When you fucked up, she’d be here with me. And where is she? In my house.”
He rammed me like a bull with his head, right in the gut, and we went down to the ground, landing punches wherever we could.
It took a second, but the feeling of cold water hitting hot skin made the both of us freeze in place. I jumped up first because I was used to my sister’s bullshit. Whenever me or my brothers would fight, she would get the hose out. I lifted my hands in surrender, spitting out a wad of blood, because hands up meant she’d quit.
Macchiavello stood too, and she hit him in the chest once more. His hands weren’t up.
“That’s enough!” Kee yelled, holding the hose like a weapon. “The both of you!”
“I—” I had no clue what I was going to say—maybe tell Kee the truth, get everything out in the open with this bastard, but she hit me with the hose again, this time in my mouth.
“Harrison.” My sister’s voice was mean. “Knock it off. You know I won’t let up until you stop with the excuses. Now get your ass inside before you catch cold!”
“Sissy boy,” Macchiavello muttered.
Kee hit him with the hose again. “You! I’ll get you some dry clothes, but only if you shut it!”
Macchiavello narrowed his eyes at her. She narrowed back. He had no idea who he was dealing with. And when she was like this—especially after our little tiff—she wasn’t to be trifled with. Most days, I was surprised Kelly was still breathing, and it had nothing to do with his dangerous business. It was the woman he’d married.
Something caught Macchiavello’s eyes. Mari stood on the porch, holding on to the railing. Gus sat next to her, looking up, tongue hanging out.
“What are you doing here,mio marito?” she said to him.
This seemed like a personal conversation, one I didn’t intend on sticking around for. I wanted to get Gus and bring him inside. He seemed taken with Mari, and I didn’t want Georgina pulling up and seeing it. Mari standing on the porch with Gus—Georgina’s dog—next to her, giving her the Romeo eyes.
Numerous parts of my body felt like they were swelling, so after I got Gus in, I took a beer out of the fridge and held it against my face. Gus stared up at me, already knowing the refrigerator was where good things came from.
“Maybe weshouldhave named you Romeo,” I said. “Or Casanova. Definitely not Lupo. Fits him, though. He’s a hairy fucking dog.”
Gus trotted behind me like a Clydesdale as I headed toward the sofa. If Mari and her husband were still working shit out when Georgina got home, it was going to be interesting to see how this all played out. Because whatever they were working through, it seemed serious. Maybe Mari had no clue he had a bunch of mistresses on the side. Most gangsters had them. And that was exactly what Macchiavello was.
Georgina ran in a lot of circles. I knew it when Nicodemo had showed up that night. And the more I thought about how fucked up this all was, the more I was determined to get answers. She told me not to pity her and not to treat her like glass—so, we were going to talk. Her life and mine seemed too interconnected not to be completely honest with each other about our pasts. I had no choice but to love her, but I needed transparency.
Macchiavello hadn’t killed me, probably because I meant something to his wife, but I’d kill him—whether he meant something to Georgina or not—if he didn’t stay away from mine. This was a war I refused to lose.
I pulled out my cellphone as I took a seat and texted her.
You coming home soon?