Page 2 of Cold

"But not everyone can keep him safe." Amadeo stood up, his eyes tired. "Do this for me, Vito. I don't want to argue about it anymore."

I grunted in response and nodded. Amadeo had already made up his mind and he wasn't going to budge. I'm about to be stuck with Romare.

"Get him to your place, clean him up, and make sure he's eaten. Then get him to sleep. From the marks on his wrists and ankles he's been chained up a lot. He'll need time to adjust to the real world." He walked around and laid a hand on my shoulder before he squeezed. "And what I said-"

"It's fine," I said shortly as I pulled away from him. "I'll collect him and go."

Amadeo frowned, but he nodded. I took that as I was dismissed and turned on my heels. I shoved down my irritation and the shame that always built to the surface when I was reminded of my brother. A good, stiff drink was in order.

"We're going," I said as I let myself into the office where Gabriele stood pointing a gun at me before he dropped it and sighed.

“Sorry, still twitchy,” Gabriele said.

I nodded. “Just be careful with that thing. Come on, Romare.”

His eyes widened. "Me?" he asked as he shoved a finger into his own chest. "Where are we-"

"Don't ask me any questions," I snapped. "Just move."

Gabriele whistled. "He must have said something shitty."

"Yeah," I muttered before I turned to Gabriele. "Be careful out there. I saw you tonight. All that anger is dangerous."

He nodded. "I know," Gabriele answered. "I'll watch my back. You watch yours too, Uncle Vito."

Gabriele looked like he wanted to say more, but I wasn't in the mood to stick around. I headed for the car and heard Romare's hurried footsteps behind me. Every once in a while I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was keeping up.

"Wait," Romare called as he hissed. "My ankle still hurts. Did you hear me? Hold on!"

I kept moving. "Keep up or stay behind. I don't give a damn."

A hand slipped into mine and I jerked. I stopped and stared down at him. Romare was easily a foot shorter than me and he stared up with those big, doe eyes. He's attractive. It was a fleeting thought and I quickly pushed it away before I shook my hand trying to get him off of me.

"Let go," I growled.

"Don't leave me," he whispered. "Please. I know you don't want me around, but I'll be quiet. I know how to do that. And I'll be good."

"Then let go of me," I ordered.

Romare hesitantly released my hand, his eyes watering. He was still only half-dressed in a crop top and a pair of shorts that were so small and tight they looked painted on. My eyes roamed over him and noticed the bruises on his neck, his arm, his hip.

I didn't want to give a fuck. I'd learned a long time ago the only way to survive this life was to tuck all emotions away and get on with it.

"Don't fucking cry," I snapped when he sniffled. "If I let you hold my hand will you really shut up?"

His eyes lit up and he ran his fingers over his mouth, twisted it, and tossed away the metaphorical key. Romare pushed his hand into mine gently and when he gazed up at me again his cheeks were pink. He squeezed my hand and I resisted the urge to pull away again.

I didn't like being touched.

Romare kept his mouth shut like he promised and I gave in. If it kept him from crying, I would let him hold my hand for a while.

Once we reached the car, I opened his door and let Romare inside. He clung to my hand and I pulled away, but his grip tightened.

"I have to drive," I pointed out. "Let go now."

"But I don't want to."

"If you don't let me go, boy..."

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