Chapter 12
SOREN
“You don’t know what my childhood was like.
” Carmine is bitching at me from across the room.
I’d managed to get him set up on an old ratty recliner in the basement of the safehouse apartment building my uncle owns.
Getting him to shut up is another story.
I have to admit, hearing the sound of his voice and knowing that he’s alive does bring me a sense of…
joy? Is that what this throbbing in my heart and groin is?
At least a part of it. Another part of me, even the dark and bloody part, is racked with guilt. I shouldn’t feel guilty for what I did. It’s my job after all. Just a job.
Except it isn’t just a job; that much is clear now. I’ve gotten wrapped up in something with Carmine Dresvanni and now I’m standing here in a dingy safehouse practically begging him to let me patch him up.
The exact opposite of what I’m supposed to be doing right now.
“I’m sure it was full of trauma just like mine,” I finally say as I bring over several tools I’ve disinfected with alcohol and some gauze.
“Ow, son of a fucking bitch, could you at least warn me before you grab my leg like that?” Carmine hisses out in pain. I’d grabbed his leg to roll his blood-soaked jeans away from the wound.
“Did anybody warn you before they shot you?” I ask him as I take a look at the bullet wood. It’s not very deep, thankfully, but it’s right nearby the scarring from a previous injury.
“Real funny.” Carmine attempts to grab the needle nose pliers from my hand, I pull it back. “I can do this myself.”
“What? Just cause you have before?” I ask him pointedly, and then shove him to sit back the way he was with my free hand. The gauze and a bottle of water resting against his other leg.
“You keep helping me, but there’s something I don’t understand,” he tells me.
I ignore him, and just hand him a wad of gauze. “You’re gonna wanna bite down on something.”
He takes it from me but doesn’t put it in his mouth. “First, tell me what was up in there.”
I ignore him once more.
I can’t tell him that I helped set him up, it’d ruin the entire job. But maybe I’ve already done that.
How exactly am I going to explain to Eivor that Carmine isn’t dead, nor brutally injured at the very least, because I swooped in and saved him at the last second? There’s no way that can go down without me getting my ass handed to me.
“Bite down,” I warn him instead of giving him an answer.
I start to dig into the wound to find and pull out the bullet.
It’s not deep, but I know it still hurts like hell.
I see Carmine shove the gauze in his mouth at the last second and he groans.
As my fingers and the pliers dig into his bloody soft flesh and muscle, he writhes underneath me in the most tantalizing way.
Something about the way his breath catches as he pants for it through his nose, and his hips squirm as he struggles to keep composure… It’s incredibly hot. It shouldn’t be, not in this moment, but it is.
“You’re hot when you’re in pain,” I tell him at the same second that I pull the bullet out of his calf and drop it into half of an empty can. It clinks and rolls. Then more blood starts to spew out of the open wound.
Carmine’s words are nothing but muffled sounds but I swear he says something like, fuck you Soren.
I laugh once and then pour some water on the wound to clear it out, before grabbing the needle and medical thread.
It’s a bit old, though clean, and if I stitch too tightly it might snap and I’ll have to start all over.
I decide doing one stitch at a time is a better option than carrying them along the skin.
Carmine spits the gauze out and grabs me by the hair where I kneel at the end of the chair.
“You sick motherfucker, you better hurry up,” he growls.
His fingers in my hair only turn me on more, the tight way they grip me. The intensity of his voice, how strong and wild he looks. He’s smaller than me, sure, but right now I’m the one on my knees and he’s the one with his nails against my scalp.
“You keep this up and I’ll be fuckin’ you instead of fixin’ you,” I tell him.
His face goes even more red and he lets go of me before leaning back and gripping the arms of the recliner with white knuckles.
“That’s not happening again,” Carmine grumbles.
I smirk to myself, but then my expression falls as I focus on stitching his wound up. Not because I’m so deep in focus, but because he should be right.
He is right. What happened twice before really shouldn’t happen again, and I want to be able to say the same thing; that it won’t.
I can’t.
I don’t want it to.
I mean, I want it to. I want it to happen again, more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.
I want to feel his hot naked body against my own, under it, on top of it, beside it…I don’t fucking care. Bloody and covered in sweat, or clean and smelling linen fresh, it doesn’t really matter to me.
It’s difficult to ignore these thoughts as I work on him, but soon I finish up and toss the stuff I was using into the can as well.
“You’re gonna need a new pair of jeans,” I comment casually before standing up. The blood rushes from my head to my legs, and I feel dizzy for a second but place a hand on the arm of the chair to steady myself.
Carmine sucks in a breath. “I don’t care about the jeans.”
Once my head is steady, I give him a look, with my eyebrow raised. “Really? I took you for the type. Designer clothing and all.”
“Don’t talk to me as though yours isn’t,” he says while sitting up slowly and putting the footrest of the recliner down with a cringe.
“True,” I agree. “Though, cotton is generally less expensive than silk and satin.” I’m teasing him now, and trying to steer his mind away from the subject of why I was there tonight, and why he was there as well.
It doesn’t work. He ignores what I just said and glares at me instead.
“This was your fault. I know it.” He points at me briefly. When he tries to stand, he falters and I find myself reaching out to place a hand on his back.
He shrugs away from me. “Get your hands off me.”
“You’re the one who went to a poker game looking for a fight,” I remind him. Though I know I’m just talking shit. I know what I did. Even if I don’t want to admit it.
Is that it? I just don’t want to, not that I shouldn’t?
Eivor will be pissed; there’s nothing I can do to stop that now… But Carmine. Is what I’m doing some poor attempt at remaining pure in his eyes somehow? Loyal?
Am I just a scared little bitch who doesn’t want him to know I betrayed him? That I’ve been betraying him this entire time?
My jaw clenches.
“You gave me that information and don’t pretend like it was an accident,” he accuses as he steadies himself, putting most of his weight onto his good side.
“I thought…fuck, I was stupid enough to think it had been; that you’d given me that little tidbit of info just so I knew.
That you wouldn’t expect me to actually look into it and find them. I should’ve known better.”
I swallow hard. Watching the darkness cross over his face makes my blood pump through me even harder. Guilt. Arousal. Frustration. Want. They’re all there.
“Tell me, Soren…when did you decide to royally fuck me over?” he asks me, “No, no, wait. Actually. When did you decide that decision was a bad one and to jump in at the last fucking second to do the right thing?”
I huff. “The right thing?” I ask him. “You know who our families are, for fucks sake. Good, bad, right, wrong…what is it anymore? So, your family is the right one, mine is the wrong? Is that it? I’m just supposed to bow down and kiss all your asses ‘cause I wanna keep you safe? Ignore my duty and loyalty to my family for yours?”
Carmine grabs the can with the bullet and pliers in it and tosses it across the room with a clatter.
“You’re the one who came to me!” he yells at me, voice weak.
“Eivor asked us to take your protection, to work with you. Despite refusing any solid deal besides working the club and more money. Despite refusing to become true allies. I’d be willing to work something out, but you damn Fiorellis are so fucking stubborn, like you were dropped on your heads off a four-story building, caught by angels, and think that you’re gods. ”
“We think we’re gods? Your father treated everyone, including his own family, like they owed him something just for breathing nearby a tree that happened to be on his land,” I spit back at him. My face is heated, my hands curled into fists at my side. I know he’s right.
I’m wrong.
I’m struggling to maintain the facade.
“Don’t you talk about him,” Carmine comes at me with his fist raised. I grab it and shove it away from me.
“I want to protect you, Carmine,” I tell him honestly, lowering my voice. “You think I’d be here if I didn’t?”
“Then tell me the truth, Soren, for fucks sake.” Carmine’s voice breaks in a way that makes me close my eyes and suck in a deep breath.
I’m not sure what I expect to come out of my mouth, but when I open it, shit just pours out. And not the bullshit that has been. The truth.
“Fine. I told you where they’d be on purpose.
I knew there was a chance you’d show up there.
That you couldn’t let the opportunity pass by.
I thought…maybe, I hoped that you wouldn’t be that stupid, that reckless,” I tell him, eyes still closed.
I can’t look at him, not now. Not yet. “I knew they were waiting for you.”
“Why, Soren?” he asks me, and I feel him step even closer.
I’m quiet.
“Open your eyes. Look at me,” he demands. “Face me like a man.”
I can’t help but laugh and open my eyes. “You still need proof I’m a man after everything I’ve done? We’ve done?” I ask him, waving an arm. “Maybe…maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not a man; I’m just a fucking scarecrow.”
Carmine is staring at me now. “What the fuck are you on about?” he asks me. “Why did you set me up, Fiorelli? What’s going on here? I’m tired of the vague ass answers.”
I shake my head, mostly at myself. “My uncle wants to take over,” I tell him point blank. “He wants more power than you’re willing to give him, and…you’re at the top of the list of who is in his way.”
Carmine scoffs. “I fucking knew it. I knew this wasn’t about protection. I knew you were lying to me.” He grabs me by the front of my shirt, and I do the same with him, trying to shove him off, but he’s clinging to me good.
We’re face to face, nose to nose. I can feel his hot breath against my mouth.
“You’d do the same thing if you were in my shoes,” I insist. “Loyalty to our families is all we have, ain’t it?”
“You told me that you were giving me those guards to protect me. Protect my family. Does Eivor even care about access to the club? Or was that just to try and butter me up. Give something to trade so it would seem like it was serious?”
“We did give you the guards. They have been working for you. That wasn’t a lie,” I try to tell him, but I know it’s not totally true. “They’ve been collecting information on your family, but it hasn’t been used yet.”
His eyes go wide and he shakes me with all of his strength, which I can tell he isn’t at full.
“You motherfucker,” he growls. “You tried to get me killed.”
I grab his hands and try to pry them off me. I’m fairly certain if he doesn’t get off me in the next second, I’m going to do something I’ll regret. I start to see red, and the guilt that’s eating me up inside only grows more intense. The frustration and confliction rising.
“I saved you!” I shout at him as I force his hands off my shirt and hold him by the wrists. My large hands curled around his smaller ones. “Not once, not twice, three times!”
“And how many of those times were planned by you? Did you—? Oh God,” Carmine chokes out. “D-Did you plan what happened with Jackson?”
This time it’s my eyes that go wide.
“No! Fuck no! I would never do that, Carm,” I tell him. My eyes burn with tears that I can’t stand. They make me feel weak and stupid. I’ve already failed my family, when my uncle finds out, I have to be strong. I can’t let this weakness get to me.
“How can I trust that?” he asks me. “How can I trust anything you say?” He tries to pull away from my grasp.
I blink at him as my heart aches in my chest, rubbing itself raw against my ribcage in all its staggering emotion. I can’t deny what I’m feeling.
“Because what I feel isn’t a lie.” I’m the one choking out the words this time.
His breath hitches as he stops fighting me. “What?”
“I keep trying to do what Eivor tells me. Fight against you, while also trying to keep you safe. With every step forward, I take a step backward and end up in the same fucking spot. Because I can’t do what they want me to do and protect you at the same time,” I tell him, my voice low and thick.
“I might’ve been lying about why I’m here.
Why we gave you those guards. I might’ve led you into a trap but…
what’s happening between us isn’t a lie. ”
“There’s nothing between us,” Carmine spits at me and pulls away from me in a moment that catches me off guard. I let him go. My hands tremble, and he’s trembling too. He looks pale and sickly from blood loss. Like he’s just a second away from passing out.
“You know that’s not true.” I step closer to him, just in case he does fall. I want to be able to catch him.
“I need you, Carmine. More than I’ve ever needed anyone, and…fuck, I don’t understand it, but it’s true,” I insist and reach out for him, placing a hand on his arm. “What I need from you, that’s…that’s not a lie.”
He pulls away from me and takes a breath. “Just stop,” he says roughly. “Stop. I can’t do this.”
He takes a step to the side, and then looks over to the stairs. “I’m leaving, and if you try to stop me…”
I shake my head. “I won’t, but you need blood, Carm.”
“Don’t call me that,” he hisses.
“Fine. It stands. Let me take you to the hospital. The guards headed there anyway, and we can get you some blood and shit before you knock out,” I insist.
“I’m driving,” he tells me and holds out a hand for the keys.
I snort. “Absolutely not, you look like you can barely walk.”
He glares at me.
“If you don’t get your ass moving toward the stairs, I’ll pick you up,” I tell him and glare back at him.
He looks at me for a moment, up and down, and I watch his eyes as he seems to be trying to figure out if I’m serious. He must decide that I am, because he starts walking toward the stairs.
I follow after him.
Uncle Eivor is going to rip me a new one after this.