Chapter 16
Constantine
It’s New Year’s Eve, and I haven’t seen Enzo in two days. It’s killing me. I want to spend every single waking moment with him. Heck, every sleeping moment with him, too. Unfortunately, he’s had to train for his fight, which is tonight.
Thank God I don’t have to work all night.
I did last year, and we stayed open late so people could buy their booze to celebrate.
It’s just after four in the afternoon as I walk home.
Snow is expected tonight, and some flurries are already starting to fall.
I shove my hands into my coat and hunch my shoulders against the cold.
I’m shivering by the time I get home. My house isn’t much warmer with the radiators wheezing out heat.
I remove my coat and hang it up in the front closet, then I head to the kitchen to find myself something to eat.
I pull a container from the freezer that holds some beef and vegetable soup.
I’ve been learning how to cook and eat healthily.
Growing up, all I was fed was crap, and I really struggled with nutrition.
I was sick all the time. So, for the past nine years, I’ve been making up for it.
I remove the lid and pop the container into the microwave. As soon as I press start, someone knocks on my door.
I instantly freeze.
No one ever comes here. I never get visitors. Maybe it’s a salesman or some activist. I’ll just send them on their way.
Having people near my house and on my property makes me itch. I know the house is ugly and falling apart. It’s embarrassing, but there’s no fixing it up.
When I answer the door, I find the most gorgeous man alive standing on my porch with a fresh haircut. It’s faded in the back and sides, but his bangs are still tousled. He’s wearing a black leather jacket with a burgundy scarf tucked around his neck. His smirk is a regular accessory that he wears.
“Enzo,” I breathe.
He smiles brightly, showing off his white teeth. They’re slightly crooked, but I like them like that.
Before he can respond, I lunge at him. He lifts me, and I cling to him like a starfish, my head resting on his shoulder. He chuckles, his laugh vibrating through my body, bringing me absolute pure happiness.
“Hey, Little Bird.”
He walks inside, still carrying me, and closes the door with his foot behind him before setting me down.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you find me?”
He winks at me while he tugs off his scarf. “You’re not the only one with stalker skills.”
I glance around my gross house, and grimace. “Sorry, this house is… it used to be my parents’ house, and I hate it so…” I let the reason hang in the air.
“It’s fine.” Enzo pulls me by my waist and presses our bodies against each other.
“I thought you had a fight.”
“I do tonight, and I want you to be there.”
“Y-you do?”
“Yep. You can check out how sexy I am when I cream Cruz’s face.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, pulling a laugh from me.
“I’d love to go, but this Cruz better not hurt you.”
He holds me tighter and kisses the top of my head. “And what will you do about it if he does?”
“I have my ways.”
“Well, it’s the name of the game, baby. I could get hurt, but I’m used to it. Don’t you worry.”
The beeping of my microwave pulls our attention to the kitchen. “I just made some dinner.”
“Put it in the fridge. There will be food at the fight. Good food. Alfonzo spares no expense, especially for New Year’s Eve.”
“Do I have time to change?”
“Hurry.”
While I run upstairs, Enzo slowly follows me. By the time I’ve got a nice button-up shirt and sweater picked out, he’s reached my bedroom. His eyes scan the room, saying nothing. I try not to be self-conscious. His place is so much nicer and well-loved.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I say once I have my sweater on over my head and my shirt tucked into my jeans. “Does this mean I’m your boyfriend now?”
His grin spreads across his face. “Sure, why not?”
Enzo and I walk into the underground parking garage where the fight will be held. My heart blooms when he takes my hand in his.
The garage is filled with cars, but there’s a large space where a boxing ring is set up. Surrounding the area are bright lights run by generators. And in a far corner is a long table full of food and drinks. My stomach rumbles with hunger.
We stop in front of an older man, bigger than Enzo. He has a shaved head and looks scary. They give each other bro hugs before Enzo turns his attention to me. “Sal, this is Constantine. We’re together. Con, this is Sal. He’s a former UFC fighter and my trainer.”
I give the man a tentative wave. He gives me a nod in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Constantine.”
“Hello.”
“Since when have you liked them small?” he asks Enzo as if I’m not here. I bristle with irritation, but I don’t say anything because they’re friends.
“Be nice, Sal.” Enzo winks at me and squeezes my hand. “Don’t mind Sal. He likes to tease me, but really, he’s just jealous because he’s so desperate to bottom.”
“Pfft, asshole. I hope Cruz breaks your nose.”
Enzo throws his head back and laughs. “He just might.” He looks down at me and squeezes my hand again. “Go grab some food, baby. I’ve got to get ready.”
“Okay.”
The place is quickly filling with people. I had no idea these underground fights were so popular. I guess Enzo makes good money from them.
I grab myself a plate and fill it with some prime rib, rosemary potatoes, cornbread, sautéed spinach with garlic, and a glass of champagne.
There are some tables and chairs scattered about, so I find a place to sit alone.
I want to be here for Enzo, but I definitely don’t want to talk to these strangers.
As I eat, I watch Enzo strip down to his shorts, then Sal wraps his hands. I know firsthand how hard Enzo punches. I feel sorry for his opponent.
After I finish eating and feel full, I find a place to stand to watch the fight.
Enzo is focused and serious now. His opponent is the same in his corner.
He’s similar in size and height to Enzo, but he looks cruel.
His face looks like it’s been smashed too many times, and his body is covered in tattoos, but they aren’t pretty like mine or Enzo’s.
Soon, the fight starts, and the crowd gathers. There’s so much noise between the generators, people yelling and placing bets, and the rock music. It’s chaotic, and it stresses me out a little.
Enzo and Cruz circle each other like hawks, never taking their eyes off one another.
They gently bounce, their gloved hands up high to protect their faces.
Enzo is the first to strike with a kick and a punch, but Cruz blocks it and does a counterpunch that almost connects, but Enzo bounces out of the way on time.
A familiar unease starts to wash over me. I shift my feet, trying to watch the fight, but instead, I’m glancing at the crowd, who are so hungry for blood. They want to see pain and red. They’ve paid good money for it. I know Enzo does this for a living, but I don’t like this at all.
When I look back at the fight, Cruz punches Enzo in the face, and his head snaps back before he recovers.
I close my eyes as my pulse kicks up fast enough for me to feel it through my body. My lungs draw up tight, making it hard to breathe. Soon, visions of Steve fill me. Punching, kicking, slapping, laughing, pointing…
The crushing anxiety sweeps over me. I have to move. I have to get out of here.
Can’t breathe.
It’s so hot.
I’m sweating through my shirt and sweater, and my bangs quickly get soaked.
As I move away, I’m shoving through the crowd. It’s hard. They’re so riled up, they don’t even notice me.
Move, move, move.
I can hear the punches and kicks over the noise. Or maybe it’s my imagination. I can’t tell. But the sound pushes me to move faster and force my way out of there.
I need air.
Finally, I get through the crowd, and I gasp for oxygen, but I don’t stop moving. Eventually, I tuck myself between two parked cars far enough away so I’m not suffocating in noise, and I slide down against the concrete wall until my butt is on the ground.
I hug my legs and rest my head on my knees as I slowly breathe to calm myself down.
God, Enzo is going to be so disappointed in me. I couldn’t stay to watch his fight. I just can’t go back there until the fight is over.
“Enzo called me again yesterday,” someone says, their deep voice with an accent quietly echoing against the walls. “He’s mentioned some letters that are connected to the Da Costas. Dammit!”
“He’s not going to let this go,” says another voice.
I freeze, not daring to move, and I do my best to control my breathing so they can’t hear me. I’m fully alert and focused now. My past has instantly vanished. Why are they talking about Enzo?
“Dammit, he has to. I don’t want to lose another good asset, Mario. He brings me too much money from these fights.”
“You may have to. If he learns that I took out Enrique, he’s going to want to pay it back in blood. Besides, there will be other fighters.”
The other man scoffs. “Please, he’s no killer.”
“Do not underestimate a man out for blood and revenge. They were brothers. You know this, Halcón. We’re going to have to take him out if he keeps up with the pressure, and he will keep up with it. He’s not going to sit on this. Hell, I can barely get him to focus on work as it is.”
“We had to take out Enrique. He shouldn’t have been dating Diego’s daughter. We almost went to war over this. What the hell was he thinking? My hold is starting to weaken, and I can’t afford for the Da Costas to gain any more territory.”
“No, Halcón. I took out Enrique. Your hands are clean. Let me dirty them again for you. For our family.”
“Fuck. Fine. Just do it differently. Make it look like an accident or something. We don’t want his death tied to Enrique’s. Or make it look like a suicide because of his grief.”
“It’ll be done.”
My anxiety is completely gone, and in its place is pure rage. All this time, Enzo has believed the Da Costas killed Enrique. Instead, it was his very own family. I was about to hunt Antonio Da Costa, but now, I have my target.
The crowd suddenly erupts in cheers.
“We’d better go. Enzo will notice I’m not there.”
I peek out from behind the car and see the two men walking away. I can’t see their faces, but I know their names. When I get back down there, I’ll find them and memorize what they look like.
I wait long enough not to draw suspicion before I head back. When I do, I find Enzo surrounded by people, smiling and bleeding, as he shakes hands and accepts pats on his back. He must have won.
I smile sadly. I wish I hadn’t missed it, but it was too triggering.
Like the last time when I’d been following him and he sensed me, he does it again. He stands tall, looking over at the crowd before his eyes land on mine. Then he frowns and storms over to me, shoving fans out of his way.
“Your face,” I say when he reaches me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but you’re clearly not. What’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost.”
I winced and shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t watch you get hit. It reminds me of…” My voice trails as I shrug again.
“It reminds you of when you were beaten,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah.”
He rests his gloved hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry, Little Bird. You don’t have to watch my fights. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that when I invited you. You don’t have to watch a fight ever again.”
Enzo always knows the right words to make me feel better.
“Thanks.”
Before we can talk further, two men walk up to Enzo, and I instantly tense. Every muscle in my body is a live wire. I know instantly who they are. It takes all my power to put on a mask and pretend I hadn’t just heard them plan out Enzo’s murder. I need to bide my time.
A tall man with wavy black hair, dusted with white, and the strangest eyes I’ve seen—they’re almost golden with flecks of green—steps next to my Enzo and claps him on the shoulder.
I want to break his hand just for daring to touch him.
“Enzo! Well done defeating Cruz. You have made me even more wealthy than before.”
“Thank you, Halcón. It was fun.”
The man’s strange eyes land on me. “Who’s this?”
Enzo waves a hand toward me. “This man here belongs to me. We’re together. You can call him Constantine.” Then he waves at Halcón. “And this is Alfonzo Valente. Next to him is Mario Rivera. We’re family.”
Alfonzo Valente and Mario Rivera. I repeat their names in my head several times so I don’t forget. They’ll both be easy to remember—Alfonzo with the unique eyes, and Mario with the burn on his face.
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a fake smile. And we will meet again soon. We’ll start with you, Mario. Let’s see how Enzo feels about being played by his own family.