Page 16 of Running

"HI MOM.” MYmom gives a smile and shake of her head. She doesn’t know the details but she can sense I am up to trouble.

“Elena…” I know she wants to ask questions. In due time I will answer them. Well, some of them.

I move to her bed and pull the covers back. “Not here mom. Soon.” I help her stand and pivot her into the wheelchair I kept in the corner. “We need to get you back to your room.”

“I don’t understand this Elena. We shouldn’t be using my real name. Especially not here. Not this city.”

Moving quickly I wheel my mom down the hall and to the elevator. I need mom to get certain tests done under “Violet” so that we are ready when she gets a match. For safety, I have her staying in “Charlotte’s” room. I have falsified enough records to avoid any connections between her identities. Being two floors and a wing apart helps to avoid overlap of nurses and doctors.

I get my mom settled quickly into her room. Her face is pale again and she’s looking tired. Her eyes close as soon as her head hits the pillow. She lets her muscles relax and I take up the task of getting her into a comfortable position.

With eyes still closed my mom asks one of the many questions I am sure are burning in her mind. “Where have you been all day?”

“I had some errands to run.” I hate lying to my mother, so instead I give her thin truths.

“Do those errands include stealing money from your father again?”

She pops an eye open to watch my facial expression. I can school my emotions. I choose not to around her. “Maybe.”

“Darling.” She takes a deep breath. I know it pains her that I went against her wishes and found out his identity. Even more that I began to skim off his profits. I told her it's the least he could do for us considering the hell Santo put her through. “I told you. You shouldn't be messing with him. His family is dangerous.”

We don’t say the word Mafia. She thinks she still has some secrets. She doesn’t. “I know mom.”

“No you don't sweetie. You have no idea what they are capable of.” Both eyes are open now and she struggles to sit up. She wants to scold me like a child.

“Mom. I love you, but you suck at hiding things.” I take her hand in mine and rub circles with my thumb. “Remember how I found every Christmas and Birthday present you ever tried to hide.”

“I remember.” She laughs. The twinkle in her eye tells me she remembers them vividly.

“Well when you try to hide things digitally your skills are worse than that. It's like you tried to hide a car under a throw pillow.”

Mom huffs and falls back against the pillow. “How much did you find?”

I could lie. Part of me wants to lie. But I can’t. I won’t. “Everything.” This conversation has been a long time coming. She had hints of my talents. Hints of my plans. I never shared them completely. I wanted to shield her from my vengeance. She’s had enough on her plate all these years.

Eyes go wide, she perks up in her bed. “What did you do?”

“I did what I had to.”

“Honey.” She falls back onto the bed again.

“No mom. He needed to pay. Bosco needed to know.” I see her flinch at his name. I see the longing in her eyes. The desire for me to call him dad. To accept his role in my conception even if he could never be in my life. “He needed to know about Santo. He need to know how Santo threatened you and forced you to leave. He needed to know about his connection to the Cartel, and more importantly Santo needed to bleed, to pay. You didn't.”

She shakes her head at me though I know she agrees.

“I didn't kill him. I shot him, but I didn't kill him. I'm pretty sure Bosco did or will if he hasn’t.”

“What else Elena?” She knows me so well. Even without details she knows there was more to my plan.

“Who says there's more?” She raises a single eyebrow. A soft laugh escapes my lips. “Okay, so there's more.”

“Everything Elena. I need to know everything.”

“Fine.” I settle into the chair beside her bed. Facing the door with a hand on the gun that’s hidden in my sweatshirt pocket. I tell my mom the events of the morning. Even the part where I revealed my identity. My true identity.

CHAPTER NINE

Luca

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