Chapter 9 – Cam
Coming from the already pitch-black yard, I strolled into the kitchen of Raven Manor and snatched the cup of coffee waiting on the island. The butler shot me a calculated look but decided against stopping me. With a smirk, I tipped the cup back. The tiny drink was barely a swallow.
“Hey! That was mine,” Lucian grumped as he pushed through the swinging door of the dining room where he’d finished his supper.
I smirked. “Thanks.”
My first cousin rolled his eyes. “I’m your boss; show a little respect.”
And I could gut him before he blinked. That was the delicate balance of our relationship.
“Vaffa,” Lucian muttered. He drummed his fingers against the counter. With a sigh, he changed the subject. “The Russian is ready for you.”
I dropped the cup on the tiny saucer and walked toward the backdoor. I’d only come into the house to mess with him.
Lucian’s next question stopped me cold. “Was that you? At the harvest ball with Sara Caputo?”
Hand on the doorknob, I stiffened. Cold tingled through my veins. “It was.”
“Nice of you to take the invalid,” Lucian drawled.
His title as boss be damned. I balled my fists to resist drawing my gun. “She hasn’t been sick for years. She survived—” because she’s a fighter “—and now, she’s thriving.”
Lucian shrugged. “My father let her leave because he said it was what she deserved after the hell she’d been through. But now, she’s back. Why? Is she sick again?”
I ground my molars. “No.”
Lifting his hands, Lucian smoothly delivered another blow. “But there’s always a chance she could be.”
“Careful, signore,” I spat. “That’s my girl you’re talking about.”
One dark brow lifted. “Your girl?”
I slid my hands into my pockets before they wrapped around his thick throat. “Mine.”
“But what if she gets sick again?” he countered. “What if she has to go through that hellish treatment again? Hmm?”
She’d been well for years, but the label of teenage illness still remained. The bastard. How could he be so fucking blind?
I met his gaze with a fierce glare of my own. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to stop. Right the fuck now.”
“You need to listen to me!”
My hand ripped from my jeans. Swiping a copper skillet from the drying rack, I hurled it at his thick head.
Lucian ducked, barreled across the space, and gave me a hard shove. “She’s not a good match for you!”
“That’s not your call,” I seethed, but took a step backward.
Better to have space between us.
“Calm down, stronzo!” he barked. “It’s for your own damn good.”
“I fail to see your concern,” I sneered.
Lucian raked a hand through his hair, messing the longer strands on top. “I can’t have you consumed with her treatments. I need you, cugino. Here.”
“I respect that,” I gritted out. “But if Sara ever honors me by choosing to be with me, I’ll put her first, in sickness and in health.”
When….
When she honored me.
With that declaration, I turned sharply and left through the back door. There was a fucking piece of Russian meat out in my workroom, and I was going to unleash every drop of fury my darling cousin deserved on that poor sonofabitch.
***
Our Russian guest did not have a pleasant night during his stay in the Slaughter House.
I made damn sure of that. But by the time the door to my office cracked open, my blood had cooled enough that I didn’t have to fight the urge to rip Lucian’s head off.
The urge was still there, but it wasn’t surging through me with the same vicious intensity.
“Stronzo,” I muttered, adjusting my tie in the mirror.
Lucian stepped beside me, pulled out his stupid little comb, and brushed it through the gelled strands on top of his head. “Hi to you too, fuck face.”
I grunted.
“Look, about last night,” Lucian began.
I rounded on him and held up a finger. “Watch yourself.”
The don rolled his eyes. “I can see that you already care about the girl. And she’s a sweetheart—”
I bristled.
“—but I just don’t want you doing anything rash. Think this through. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’ve had years to think about it.” The time for thinking was over. “Sara is mine.”
Lucian must have sensed it was a losing cause. His lips thinned, but he mercifully kept them closed.
A groan floated through the crack in the door.
“Our guest is awake,” I drawled.
“Keeping him on ice?”
“Nah.” I jerked my chin. “Figured you’d want the pleasure of ending him, since that was what he was trying to do to you.”
“First, they hire a hitman, then they send one of their own guys? Why?” Lucian’s gaze sharpened.
“That was above this one’s paygrade.”
I reached over and started the washing machine. My work clothes—black to hide the blood—were already inside. Any darkness was my friend. It concealed the blood that could never be washed from my soul.
Over the years, I made the Slaughter House my home office. The two-roomed shed was situated deep in the trees on the Ravello property. It was a fast jog to Raven Manor, and close enough to the training facility, where the Made Men were forged into assassins or mercenaries for hire.
Lucian let out a frustrated sigh. “If Aleksandr thinks he can take over the Cove by killing me, he’s even crazier than we gave him credit for.”
With a grunt, I slid into my polished leather shoes. The man looking back at me in the mirror might be wearing a five-figure suit and tie, but it was lipstick on a beast. Sara would never fall for this version if I walked right up to her. I needed something more than a fine suit.
Once she loved the shred of humanity that still beat in my chest, then she would accept the beast the world saw.
“I still can’t understand why you let the first assassin live,” I muttered.
In fact, Lucian let him move into town.
That had been quite the shock earlier this week. I’d been fully prepared to bring Demyan into my workroom, but Lucian stopped me and dropped the bomb that Demyan was off limits.
“I told you, Ivry will destroy us if we touch a hair on his head,” the don grumped.
Our older cousin had him by the balls. Good for her. But it wouldn’t have worked if Lucian didn’t have a sweet spot for the tiny spitfire.
“You’ve been keeping eyes on him, right?”
“Night and day,” Lucian sighed. “But I have a feeling he won’t go back to the Russians. It was only a paycheck; Demyan has no loyalty to them.”
“That is why they sent one of their own guys,” I agreed.
Lucian nodded. “I know. Aleksandr is a greedy bastard. I just need to figure out what he’s after.”
It didn’t make sense. The Bratva in Trenton dealt in illegal weapons, drugs, and gambling.
They weren’t assassins. What would they gain by taking over a legacy like the Ravello Famiglia?
We were missing something. But unfortunately, the gun for hire tied up in the backroom—ready to be shot and disposed of in the woods—hadn’t been high enough on the payroll to know what his pakhan wanted.
“Come on, let’s go to church,” Lucian said and opened the door. “I’ll take care of our Russian guest this afternoon.”
If he didn’t die quietly from his wounds in the meantime.
“I’m going to send Giuseppe to Trenton,” Lucian continued as we walked to his truck.
I adjusted the suit jacket on my shoulders. Giuseppe was Lucian’s brother. “I doubt he’ll find anything.”
Lucian hummed. “He is the only one I trust to look.” I bristled at that, but the don quickly added, “You can’t go. I need you here.”
His faithful dog, kept on a tight leash. It was why I hadn’t spent more time in Manhattan. It was the reason my trips to the city had been limited to a few weekends a year. Those moments had been precious, watching over the angel as she lived her life free of the mob’s clutches.
But…she’s back.
And I’d already claimed her as mine.
The drive into town was short. My gaze scanned the parking lot of St. Luke’s as we pulled off the road. Relief made my shoulders sag.
Such a good girl.
My perfect angel.
She’d come into town to spend the day with her parents. I was out of the truck and inside the church in seconds. Pausing at the entrance to the sanctuary, I dashed holy water over my forehead, hissing at the burn. It was cold, but the feeling of sizzling skin was no less real.
There she was, sitting close to the front, a vision in a black pencil skirt and frothy midnight blouse. So pure. So beautiful. Sara was not the kind of creature a beast like me should have any right to take.
But it was too late for her.
I chose to sit in the back instead of joining Lucian in the front pew. Being that close to Sara, hearing the whisper of her body as she flipped through the service book, would have been an unbearable torment.
I didn’t take my eyes off her until Mass was finished.
Her mother whisked her away to the refreshments in the basement of the church.
I meant to follow, but an idea had formed in my mind.
I needed the chance to interact with the angel in a normal setting.
Without a mask or darkness. Eventually, she was going to see me for the man that I was, and I couldn’t have her afraid of the monster known as my other half.
“Caputo!” I stalked after the financial genius.
Saverio paused, took one look at me, and scowled. I appreciated his protective side. Though he was no match for me physically, when it came to his little girl, he would fight to the death.
“Signore, what can I do for you?”
I clapped my arm over his shoulder, steering him down to the social hall in the basement. “Your family will attend the Ravello Sunday Dinner.”
The Caputos had a standing invitation to join the don whenever they liked, as did all the upper ranks of our organization. I didn’t need to ask the boss to make this happen.
Saverio groaned. “Sancia has a roast in the oven.”
“Eat that for supper.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You dine at the don’s manor at noon.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
“And make sure Sara knows she’s invited,” I added casually.
Saverio stopped abruptly. “Sara was heading back to the lake house once she grabbed some groceries.”
I gave him a meaningful smile, all teeth and menace. “Change her mind.”
Saverio’s nostrils flared.
Good.
This reaction was good. I smiled on the inside.
Saverio might be a nerd, but knowing he wasn’t a complete mouse helped quell the raging anxiety by knowing Sara had his protection.
“What are your intentions with my daughter?” he demanded.
I held up my hands. “I swear to you, she’s safe with me.”
Saverio narrowed his eyes. “You’re the don’s enforcer.”
“And you’re his numbers guy, so what?”
Saverio pursed his lips. “So, know that I can sink you.”
I believed him.
And, what was more, I welcomed the threat. It gave me a sick thrill to know there was a challenge.
“If Sara doesn’t want to be with you, I will protect her,” he insisted.
“If Sara doesn’t want to be with me, I’ll step back.” She won’t, though.
That angel was mine.
I gave him a little shove, slowing my steps to trail behind. Saverio scampered away, fidgeting with his glasses as he joined his wife and daughter with their cookies and lemonade at one of the round tables.
I took my position against the back wall, watching the good parish members socialize. I didn’t fixate on my prize, but Sara stayed in my peripheral.
This would work.
I would visit her at night, convincing her that our primal connection was solid.
But a woman like Sara needed to be wooed by more than carnal activities.
Her sharp mind would prove to be a powerful resistance.
That was why every time she came to town, she needed to see Camillo Ravello as a civilized man.
I would give her the opportunity to fall for both sides of my personality.
Which meant I needed to keep my psycho in check during dinner and whatever opportunities presented themselves in the future.
That, however, was going to be fucking hard to do with pricks like Alfonso Gillepsie sauntering to the Caputos’ table.
Alfonso shook hands with Saverio, smiled boyishly at Sancia, but then made the terrible mistake of leaning over the angel still munching on the cinnamon cookie shaped like a rusty maple leaf.
My vision turned red.
Alfonso teased her, reaching out to swipe a crumb off her chin.
I fisted my hands. The pressure on my molars was enough to crack the teeth. If I rushed forward, I would undo my resolve to show Sara I was capable of being a normal human.
Thankfully, I was spared removing the fool’s hand from his body with my pocketknife when Saverio launched forward. He shoved Alfonso, barking at him to get away.
Alfonso towered over the numbers nerd, but the father didn’t back down.
Relief rushed through me.
Lucian looked up from his table, assessed the scene, and cut a look to me.
With pleasure, boss.
I stepped forward.
As if she felt me, Sara swung around. Her gaze crashed into mine. A single word formed on her lips.
“Don’t.”
I hesitated, but the don’s stare was heavy on my back. What is it, angel? No killing in church?
I settled on a sharp bark of command. “No brawling in church.”
Alfonso, coward that he was, pointed a finger at Saverio. “He started it! I was just catching up with my high school friend.”
“You touched the lady without her permission,” I ground out.
Alfonso stammered, but Sara cut in. Her voice was crystal. Pure. Heavenly. “He won’t do it again.”
No…he would not.
But I would wait until later to remove his fingers.
“Get lost, Fonzy,” I clipped out.
Alfonso took three steps back, tripped, and then, after righting himself, fled.
“Thank you.” Saverio stuck out his hand. “Nice to know you have our backs.”
There was an unspoken question to his statement. I clasped his hand and shook.
“Always.”
Sara watched with interest, head cocked to the side as she studied me. I turned to her and waited.
“Won’t you join us for some cookies? They’re not half bad,” she finally said and pushed her paper plate in my direction.
I knew that if I sat down, I would never leave.
“Not this time.” I smiled, softly, only for her.
The tips of her cheeks flushed pink. “Catch you around, then.”
Oh, yes, angel, you will.