Sal Moretti
“All of this is making me so anxious, Sal,” Renee said, breathing heavily through the phone. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Every time my phone rings, I think it’s Denise telling me that Prodigy finally found Renzo.”
I drove through the dark with one hand on the wheel, watching the narrow Michigan road disappear beneath my headlights.
Her breathing shook. “If that investigator finds Renzo—”
“I told you I’d handle it.” I turned onto the dirt road almost hidden between the trees. “Renzo knows what happens if he returns.”
“That’s what scares me,” she whispered. “What if he doesn’t care anymore?”
The house appeared at the end of the road, small, old, and tucked deep enough in the woods that nobody would find it, not even by mistake. There were no neighbors or streetlights. The only sound was the gravel beneath my tires and insects singing in the dark.
“I’m here,” I told my wife. “I’ll call you back.”
“Call me as soon as you leave,” she rushed out.
“Okay, my love.”
“As soon as you leave, baby.”
“I promise.”
I ended the call before her fear got inside my head worse than it already had.
For a minute, I stayed in the car, staring at that porch, just staring at the house.
Then I got out. The porch boards creaked beneath my feet.
I knocked twice, and the door opened. Renzo stood there, bigger than I remembered, older too, with a touch of gray threaded through his dark hair and beard, and murder sitting in his eyes.
For one second, looking at him felt like looking at a slightly older, harder version of myself.
We had the same height, the same broad shoulders, the same thick build that came from our father’s side.
His skin was a shade lighter than mine from our Italian blood sitting closer to the surface, but the structure of our faces matched too well to deny.
We had the same strong nose and deep-set eyes.
We also had the same hard jawline our mother used to say made every Moretti man look guilty even when he was telling the truth.
Time had aged him, though. His curls had gone a bit salt-and-pepper, pushed back from his face in thick waves.
Lines cut around his eyes and across his forehead, and his beard had a touch of gray along the chin.
But we were both still in our forties. So, the years hadn’t made him weak. He looked solid, rough, and meaner.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then his lips pulled into a bitter line. “Sal.”
“Renzo.”
He looked past me toward the trees, then back at my face. “I haven’t seen you in years. So, either somebody died, or something went wrong.”
“Prodigy hired a PI.”
His expression changed to pride and yearning.
“He’s looking for you. You need to move before he finds this place.”
Renzo opened the door wider, but not as an invitation. “Get in.”
I stepped inside. The house smelled of coffee and old wood. Nothing about it looked temporary. That was the problem. Renzo had started living like he was tired of running.
“You need to leave tonight,” I said.
“No.”
“Renzo!”
“I said no!”
“He’s close!”
“Good.”
My stomach turned. “Good?”
“Maybe it’s time he finds me.”
“The truth will ruin Denise.”
Renzo scoffed with an evil chuckle. “No, the truth will ruin you and Renee! That’s what you’re afraid of.
” I stared at him as he stepped closer. “Don’t say Denise’s name as if you’re protecting her.
You’re protecting the lie! You’re protecting the fact that she’s been living amongst fucking snakes this whole time.
You helped them steal decades from me, helped them keep me from my wife and my son! ”
“I helped keep you and your son alive! You saw what they were capable of!”
“You helped bury me while I was still breathing!”
My jaw locked. “You know what would’ve happened if you stayed and went back. You think they were bluffing?”
“I think all of you chose fear, like fucking cowards!”
“Fuck you! You know we had no choice!”
He moved so fast I barely had time to brace myself. His hand grabbed the collar of my shirt, and he shoved me toward the door. “Get the fuck out!”
I swung at him. He caught part of it on his shoulder, then drove his fist into my face hard enough to send pain through my head. I stumbled into the wall, knocking a picture crooked. He came after me, and I tackled him around the waist.
We hit the floor hard. We had too much bad history between us. He punched me in the ribs. I drove my knee into his side. He grabbed the back of my neck and slammed me into the floor. I caught his jaw with my fist, and his head snapped to the side.
He smiled with blood on his teeth. “I should fucking kill you,” he growled, grabbing for my throat. “You’re part of the reason I had to walk away from my wife and son.”
I clawed at his hands as his grip closed around my neck. My oxygen cut off. I kicked, bucked, shoved at his arms, but Renzo held me down with every year of rage he had saved for this moment.
His face hovered over mine, red with hate and grief. “Do you know what it’s like to live without your child because people you trusted decided you were an inconvenience?”
Black spots crept into my vision. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. For one second, I thought he was going to do it. Then he let go.
I breathed air in hard, coughing, rolling onto my side while my throat burned.
Renzo stood over me, breathing hard. “I’m done running.”
I couldn’t get up fast enough to stop him. He grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me across the floor. My shoes scraped against the wood as he hauled me to the front door.
“Renzo!” I rasped.
He opened the door and threw me onto the porch. I hit the boards, pain tearing through every part of me.
Renzo stood in the doorway, staring down at me. Then he slammed the door in my face.
I lay there in the dark, fighting for air, knowing Renee was waiting for a call I no longer knew how to make.