10. Julian #5
Sonny Vitale is standing in front of the house beside two of his soldiers and I give him a signal that we need to have a chat.
I’m not expecting any trouble from tonight’s excursion but it won’t hurt if law enforcement receives a friendly visit.
Sonny, despite being a ruthless Mafia Capo, is also one charismatic son of a bitch.
Before I talk to anyone, I need to get Cecilia safely escorted up to her room. My brothers, all of them still shirtless and bloody, take off in separate directions.
Cecilia gives me a sleepy smile when I help her out of the truck. Sonny is hovering nearby and I throw him a look so he’ll back off for a minute. He neutralizes the nighttime security alarm and wordlessly opens the front door for us.
My hand stays on Cecilia’s back on the silent walk up to her room. That cat of hers runs down the stairs and disappears. Cecilia calls out to the animal and is ignored. She looks disappointed.
“I know you didn’t want to go out tonight,” she says as we approach her door. “So thanks for indulging me anyway.”
“I hope you had a good time.”
“It was interesting.” She rubs at her head and frowns. “How much whiskey does it take to make a hangover?”
“In your case, probably about three ounces. Take it easy in the morning. I’ll leave word with the kitchen to send up some ginger tea and toast for breakfast.”
“You really do think of everything.” Her hand is on the doorknob now and she raises those vulnerable brown eyes to my face.
I can’t shake that fleeting taste of holding her in my arms. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I doubt my willpower would have survived.
“What were you planning for tonight if we hadn’t gone out?” she asks.
“What makes you think I had a plan at all?”
“I think you always have a plan, Julian.”
She’s not wrong. Another score for her powers of perception.
Leaning against the wall, I compose an honest answer.
“I thought I’d show you the library. It’s on the first floor, the eastern wing of the house.
We own a lot of antique volumes from my grandfather’s collection but the room doesn’t get used much now.
After that, I figured we might make a fire in the old stone pit out back where the boys and I used to camp out as kids.
Fort is getting good with his guitar and Getty has a decent voice if you can twist his arm into using it.
We could have spent more time looking up at the night sky and searching for those constellations you like so much. ”
Her face changes while I’m talking. She goes from skeptical to eager to downright enchanted and looks for all the world like I’ve just successfully planted my flag in her heart.
Cecilia gets ahold of herself before swooning and says, “Um, maybe we could do that another night.”
“Sure we can.” I’m careful to keep a triumphant smirk off my face. The evening I just described sounds infinitely preferable to beers and brawling in a sweaty bar. I’m glad she agrees.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes drop to my mouth again and she shifts her weight. She’s nervous. And turned on.
She’d let me kiss her right now. She’d let me push that dress down, suck her tits, annihilate her panties and fuck her atop the covers.
“Yes, you will.” I don’t budge an inch.
“Okay. Well, good night.” Cecilia steps into the room, glances back at me with curiosity, then softly shuts the door.
I wait until I hear her go into the bathroom. My cock is so riled up I’ll need to choke the snake at least twice before sleep is even an option.
That’s next on the agenda.
First, I’m stuck giving Sonny an update. He waits downstairs.
I hear the groan of the water pipes as Cecilia turns on the shower. Standing here will only send my mind back into dirty territory and I need to put those thoughts on pause.
On the way to the staircase, I pass a dark wood accent table pushed into a shallow alcove. The framed photo propped on its surface is one I’ve walked right past thousands of times. It’s me and my brothers, all decked out in our cowboy hats on a blazing summer day.
An answering fierce surge in my blood is powerful and protective. Maybe this is the instinct of the firstborn in every family. But in a family with our history, that reflex was always destined to be sharper.
I would kill for my family. I have killed for my family.
There’s not much doubt I’ll be called on to do so again.
My past and future crimes aren’t what troubles me as I trot down the stairs.
On the opposite wall above the front door, the spectral bull skull has remained in the same spot for decades.
In the mood I’m in, the sight of the thing hits me like a bad omen.
The glow of being with Cecilia is rapidly fading, replaced by a bleak, unreasonable guilt I’ve carried around for nearly twenty-five years.
That long ago camping trip was only supposed to last for one night.
I’m the one who begged and pleaded with my father to stay longer.
If I hadn’t, he would have been home when murderers descended on Storm’s Eye Ranch.
And my mother might have lived to see her sons grow up.