Page 1 of Blood Money

Vittorio, Six Years Old….

“Hurry,” Gabriel whispered with suppressed excitement. He held my hand as we raced through the lushly carpeted halls in our home. He was two years older than my six years, and he was my hero. I would’ve gone anywhere and done anything for him.

“Where are we going?” I gasped breathlessly when we darted through the kitchen and skirted around the island. Our cook had her back to us, but she cast a glance over her shoulder, and we made eye contact. My heart seized in my chest, and my footsteps faltered.

Gabriel tugged on my hand at the same time as she winked at me, then turned back to what she was doing.

“Vittorio,” he quietly urged.

I returned my attention to my older brother as we slipped out the back door. We were quiet, and the only sounds we made were the pounding of our Vans landing on the grass, then the creaking of the back gate. Both of us looked toward the house to see if we’d been caught. Grandfather scared me, and I didn’t want to get in trouble.

“Let’s go!” He grinned, and I giggled as we ran down the alley behind our big old house we shared with our grandparents. It was the first full day of summer vacation, and the flowers growing in the yards we passed smelled so good. It was one of my favorite things about this time of year.

The moment we turned left at the end of the alley, I knew our destination, and I grinned.

Several blocks later, and out of breath, we burst into the bakery. The scent of bread rising and the sugary-sweet smell of frostings, donuts, and other treats rushed over me, and I breathed deeply. Next to my mama’s perfume, it was the best smell in the world.

“I know you didn’t just run into my bakery,” Mrs. Romano chastised as we skidded to a stop in front of the display cases.

“No, ma’am,” Gabriel assured her, then elbowed me, pulling my gaze from the rows and rows of delectable goodness.

“No, ma’am,” I parroted, eyes wide and heart racing.

One of her bushy brows lifted as she stared us down. She was so scary, I wanted to shrink behind my brother, but I was frozen in place at her scrutiny.

“What will it be today?” she asked, holding back a smile.

A relieved sigh left me, and I took that as my cue to scan the options. Tongue sticking out of the side of my mouth, I moved down the glass. It was always so hard to choose. I crouched to see a lower shelf and paused. Staring through the case were two bright green eyes. I peered closer and blinked, thinking I had imagined it. Slowly, I stood upright, but the eyes followed me to the top.

That was when I realized those green eyes were connected to a little girl with wild, curly red hair. She didn’t look like she was as old as me—she was probably Alessio’s age. She waved at me with a pink-frosted cupcake in her hand. I glanced over at Gabriel, but he was busy talking to Mrs. Romano. Shy, I waved back.

“Kendall, what did I tell you about helping yourself to the treats?” Mrs. Romano suddenly barked, and the little girl’s already big eyes went huge. Then she slammed the door shut on the back of the case, and I saw the top of her head with her hair flying behind her as she darted for the back room.

Ken-doll. That’s a funny name for a girl. Shouldn’t it be Barbie?

“Vittorio, pick what you want,” Gabriel told me, making me jolt. I turned from him to Mrs. Romano and pointed at the pink-frosted cupcakes.

“That’s pink,” Gabriel said as he looked like he’d smelled something bad. “Don’t you want something different?”

I shook my head, and my brother sighed. “Get him a donut too,” he added.

Mrs. Romano reached into the case Kendall had just been staring through and pulled out a cupcake like Kendall had grabbed. Then she handed it to me in a small white bag.

Gabriel paid her with his allowance money, and she handed him some dollars as change. He was eight, so he’d started getting that for doing “chores.” Mama said when I turned eight, I’d get money for doin’ my chores too.

The bell on the door jingled as we left, and I cast one last glance back. The girl named Kendall stood in the window with her hand on the glass and a sad expression. I wanted to go back, but Gabriel was rushing me.

“We need to get back before anyone knows we left,” he urged before handing me one of the donuts from his bag.

As we hurried back, we devoured the donuts. I kept the cupcake in the white paper bag because I wanted to save it for later.

We made it back in the house and were tiptoeing past the library, where we could hear our father and grandfather arguing. Suddenly the wooden door slid open, and our grandfather stood there, angry and scowling. “What are you two doing?” he shouted.

It made me jump and drop the bag. The cupcake fell out and landed with a splat of pink icing on the dark wood floor.

“You went out alone?” His voice was getting loud and scary.

Then he turned on Gabriel, who shot a worried glance my way and whispered, “Run!”

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