Chapter 26 – Gabriella
Curled up on the dining room chair with my breakfast dishes still in front of me, the crumbs a couple of hours old, I was jerked back into reality when my phone rang. I set the book down, realizing how stiff my muscles were. From the ankle to the toes, my left foot was numb.
As I answered the call from my old coworker, the pins and needles started to crackle to life.
“Hi, Sully! How’s it going?” I brushed my hair back, grimacing that it was due for a wash. If I sprayed dry shampoo, maybe I could put off a shower until I finished the book.
“Gabby?” It wasn’t the cook from Mama Ana’s.
“Ella, what it is?” I sat bolt upright. My foot tingled, but the sudden rush of adrenaline masked the nerve pain.
“I tried the other number last night,” my sister said in a hushed voice, panic lacing her words. “But it was disconnected. I’m so glad Sully had this number.”
“Ella!” I insisted. “What happened?”
My sister hiccupped. “Mama’s got a black eye. She told us she fell, but I saw Papa take her by the hair and drag her to their room last night.”
I sat back in my chair, dread filling my veins as I closed my eyes. Papa wasn’t being careful. I never saw him lay a hand on her. I heard things. Things no child should hear, but he was always too cautious to do it where one of us might catch him.
“I’m so sorry you saw that.”
“You knew,” Carmela accused.
“He’s been brutalizing her for years, yeah,” I sighed. “Don’t try to stop him. He’ll hurt you too.”
“We have to do something!” My sister was crying now. “How can you be so callous?”
There was no point protecting her. She needed to know the truth—most of the truth. “Because he used to smack me around too.”
Silence trickled through the phone.
“He’s mean, sis.” That mean streak only got worse after he discovered my darkest sin. But I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Carmela choked. “We could have stopped him. We could have gone to the don—”
“Ella,” I cut her off, knowing where this spiral would go. “Papa told me that if I went to his boss, he’d shoot Mama. Then he’d shoot me.”
Did she believe me? Was another human finally capable of seeing the hell we’d lived in blissful ignorance of?
My voice turned into a whisper. “The worst part? Mama will deny it if you confront her. She’ll tell you not to make false accusations against your father. She’ll say he didn’t touch her, even after you say that black eye isn’t from a fall.”
“Gabby,” Carmela sobbed. “What am I going to do?”
Poison him.
The breathy laughter wasn’t quiet enough.
“This isn’t funny!” my sister raged.
“It’s not,” I rushed to agree. “But we’re women trapped by the traditions of the mafia, Ella. There’s not much we can do.”
“O, Madonna santa,” Carmela wheezed. “All this time? You should have told me.”
And watched him take his wrath out on another victim? “I’m glad you know. But don’t tell the others!”
“Can you come over?” she insisted. “I’m working the lunch shift, but I could really use a hug. The others will know if I go out there and hug them.”
I tapped my thigh. The rumble in my stomach decided for me. “I could do that. Let me get dressed, and I’ll be there in about an hour. Keep it together that long?”
“Okay,” Carmela murmured. “Gabby?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
Me too.
***
My fourteen-year-old sister was examining her sunny yellow manicure when I pushed through the front door with eight guards in tow. Sophia looked up, squeaked, and rushed to give me a hug.
“I haven’t seen you since the wedding,” she gushed, squeezing me tight. “Mama said you’d stopped over, but I’ve been picking up extra shifts since I won’t be able to work weekdays once school starts.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I had. Her pert nose, silly obsessions with pop music, and the way she jabbered to tell the simplest of stories. “Find a table for my friends, will you?”
Sophia peeked around my arm. She let out a soft, innocent gasp. I knew how the guards looked. Dressed to the nines, bristling with danger, weapons concealed under their suit jackets—any fourteen-year-old would swoon.
Speaking over her head, I addressed Sean. “Order some lunch. I’m going to find my sister.”
“Giana is working section four,” Sophia supplied helpfully, disentangling herself from me and fumbling to grab menus. “And Ella is around here somewhere. She’s acting weird. Probably got her period or something.”
I groaned. This teen had no filter.
Ruffling her head as I passed, and secretly enjoying her yelp, I went to the back of the house. “Hi, Sully. Have you seen Ella?”
The portly soul began to scold me for falling off the face of the planet. I chewed on my lip and let him speak his piece.
“And not even so much as a ‘How’s it going?’” he pouted.
Only a big teddy bear like him could pull off sulking and make it look cute.
“Sully, where is Ella?” I insisted as he set down the knife he’d been slicing vegetables with to come and give me a side hug. “It’s important,” I added in a whisper.
Those brown eyes softened. “She’s been crying all morning. I tucked her in the office twenty minutes ago and sent Giana in there with a cup of coffee.”
“Thank you,” I breathed and gave him another small hug before hurrying into the back hall.
After knocking on the office door, I let myself in before Carmela could answer. She shot from the rolling chair, which scooted backward, and rushed into my arms. A fresh burst of tears streamed from her eyes, making my shoulder damp.
“I’m glad you know,” I whispered.
“It was horrible. Mama’s face—the way he tugged her hair!”
I brushed my hand up and down her spine. There wasn’t much else I could do. Telling her it was going to be alright was a fucking lie. Our father was abusive. He was rotten mean, and he would hurt her. Insisting that she couldn’t say anything wasn’t fair. She should be able to speak up.
So, I just let her cry. It was a luxury that I never had. I comforted her how I would want to be comforted. Twenty years old, and the life she thought she knew showed her the ugly truth.
The office door flew open and banged against the wall. Carmela jumped, but I wrapped my arms instinctively around her, protecting her against the danger.
But there was no protection on earth that I could offer from the vile bastard who stood in the doorway.
“You!” Our father spat on the floor. “Don’t touch her, spawn. You’ll rub your wicked ways on her!”
I winced, but for my sister’s sake, I found the strength to push her away. Papa must be very agitated to talk to me like that in front of witnesses. He used to call me names when no one else could hear.
Something’s happened. “She’s having a bad day. I was just making sure she was alright—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Papa fumed. “Carmela, get back to work. You’re fine. Quit embarrassing us with your feminine sensitivities.”
I gave my sister a hard look. Don’t let him know what you saw!
If she understood, I wasn’t sure.
The moment she scampered away, the room grew smaller. The angry energy rolling off my father teemed with danger. There was nothing exciting about it. Fear froze me in place.
This man would hurt me.
I saw it the moment before he barreled across the room, kicking the door shut, and raised his hand. I dodged the blow, but he grabbed my shirt and pushed me down.
“Where’s your phone?” he snarled, shoving me hard.
My side hit the desk as I scrambled to my feet. “It broke.”
“Clumsy, stupid girl!” he bellowed.
Papa caught me by the hair. I saw the fist coming.
“If you leave a mark on me, my husband will know!” The threat was out of my mouth before I could decide if invoking the devil’s name was a good idea.
Papa paused.
His eyes narrowed to slits.
Breathing hard, I forced myself to stay very, very still. This wasn’t a game with a predator. This was a brush with evil.
“Aagghh,” Papa hissed and pushed me away.
I put as much space between us as possible, brushing my hand over my side. There was going to be a bruise on my hip. That at least I could say was from running into a desk, which wasn’t even a lie.
Rubbing his hands together, my father stared at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Having lunch.” I kept my chin tipped up. I had leverage. For now.
“You haven’t been home to visit your mother.” Papa went to the desk chair and sat. “She misses you.”
That was code; he’d tried to summon me and found he couldn’t because of the broken phone. I was both glad and angry that I’d destroyed it. He’d no doubt taken his fury out on my mother for that act of rebellion.
But she was the one who chose to stay. To lie for him. If she wouldn’t fight, there wasn’t much I could do to help her. Bringing in the law wouldn’t work because of my father’s connections. And Mama would lie to the don himself if I tattled. Speaking up would only make it worse.
I need to find a way to kill him.
Maybe that was why fate had shackled me to my devil of a husband. Not only did I have the money to escape, but there was time to fix things here before I left for good.
“I have a job for you.” Papa’s voice broke my tangle of thoughts. He reached into his pocket, and I tensed.
But it wasn’t a gun.
Pull yourself together.
I took a deep, shaky breath.
“What is it?” I ground out, working hard to keep my outright refusal at bay. It was better to know what he wanted. Right?
Papa pulled out a slim battery, the kind used in watches, out of his wallet and placed it on the table. “I might not be able to hurt you, but I will hurt your mother. Your sisters.”
I blanched. My stomach heaved, and I was glad there wasn’t food in it or I might have puked.
Papa tapped the battery. “Put this in the Irish scum’s shoe. Tonight, Gabriella.”
I wanted to yell. My guards would make short work of this pusillanimous excuse for a human. But then I would have started a war….
Maybe that’s what Papa is trying to do.
My movements were mechanical as I crept to the desk and plucked the battery. It probably wasn’t a battery, but some kind of tracking device.
“Peel up the sole and slip it under,” Papa instructed. “Tonight, Gabriella. Do it tonight.”
“I don’t know when Liam is coming home,” I countered, meeting his stare and letting him know I couldn’t be bullied. Not completely.
“Tonight. When he’s fucking asleep,” Papa hissed.
His insistence that it had to be done immediately was another clue. I didn’t know what it meant, but I would bet money it was important.
My fingers curled around the slim, metal disc. “I’ll do it, but don’t you dare lay a finger on my mother.”
“That bitch isn’t your concern.” Papa pushed to his feet.
I took a healthy step back but didn’t lower my gaze.
“Now, get out of here. And take your pack of dogs with you.”
Vowing to find a way to disobey him, I fled.