Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
ENZO
Iwatched them together through the whole of lunch, the easy way they have with each other.
How she fucking smiled at him. It has jealous rage burning up in every cell of my body.
Doesn’t matter that he’s my brother, a Catholic priest, or that there never has been, and never would be anything more than friendship between them, I still hated every fucking second of it.
When she giggles at some lame-as-fuck joke he makes that wasn’t even the slightest bit funny, I make my excuses and leave them to it.
I have more important things to deal with than listening to them reminisce about the shit they used to get up to when they were younger.
It fucking hurts to think about it, like someone has their hands in my chest and is squeezing my heart and lungs to mush.
Because I can’t reconcile the Rayne I thought I knew—the sweet girl who had so many sleepovers at our house that my mom practically adopted her, who lived with us after her dad died, the woman who looked at me like I was the only other person who mattered, who could speak to my soul like nobody ever has—with the bitch who fucked my best friend and tore out my heart.
It doesn’t add up. Six years of trying to make sense of it, and still I can’t.
My phone buzzes. A text from Carmine asking me where the hell I’ve been all day and if I’ve heard anything from the Russians.
I close the door to my study and fire off a quick reply telling him I’m with Angelo and that the Russians are being quiet.
Everyone is being quiet. Too quiet. Then I pull up the text message Micah sent me earlier, telling me they’ve had no luck finding this damn video.
There must be something I’m missing here.
I’ve barely read through the message when the door to my study bursts open and Angelo comes storming into the room. “What the hell are you doing, Enzo?”
I hold up my cell. “Working.”
“I mean with Rayne.”
“What I do with Rayne is none of your damn business. So, how about you stay the fuck out of it, Angelo.” I glare at him, free hand balled into a fist that I’d kinda like to punch him in the mouth with right now.
He takes a step closer. “How about no. You know you can’t just keep her here against her will, right?”
Clearly he’s forgotten who he’s dealing with. All that bible verse has messed with his head. “I can do whatever the fuck I like.”
He shakes his head, brow furrowed in concern. “You know that this isn’t right.”
“She can’t be trusted, and until I deal with a problem that she fucking caused, she’s not going anywhere. Besides, she’s safer here until it’s dealt with.”
He snorts. “You’re fooling nobody with that line, brother.”
Now he’s really pissing me off. “What line?”
“You think anyone believes you’re keeping her here for her safety? You’re keeping her here because you’re a jealous, possessive asshole and you still can’t stand to let her go.”
The rage erupts out of me like molten lava. “I fucking let her go.” I jab a finger in my chest. “I’d rather she were anywhere but here, believe me.”
His whole demeanor softens and he takes another step across the room. “So that’s why you stormed out of the kitchen because she laughed at my lame joke, not because you’re a jealous douchebag?”
Our old childhood insult does exactly what he intended, remind me he’s my brother and I love him. “It was a terrible joke. Wasn’t even funny.”
He shrugs. “She’s always loved lame jokes though. It’s how I made her snort chocolate milk out of her nose in front of Parker Bennett in tenth grade. She wouldn’t speak to me for a week. She thought that was the reason he didn’t ask her to his junior prom.”
“Jesus, now he was a fucking douchebag.”
He nods. “She liked him though. And he was into her too. In a big way.” He gives me a knowing look.
“Yeah, I remember, Angelo.” I remember threatening to cut off his dick if he ever went near her. Didn’t realize my kid brother knew about that.
“Not to mention you almost killed Joseph Bertelli.”
“He said he’d break in her virgin pussy. She was sixteen years old, and he was nineteen,” I remind him.
“Yeah, so you’ve always been a possessive jackass when it comes to her.”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off an impending headache. “That’s not what this is.”
He arches an eyebrow. “No?”
“Why do you even care anyway? After all this time, and everything she did, you still take her side.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side, Enzo, but this is Rayne. The woman who stood by yours for four years. The woman you were going to marry and have kids with. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“And just how do you know what she deserves? Your god may be all about forgiveness, but I’m fucking not.”
“You don’t even know that there was anything to forgive.”
What? Why is he even saying that? I told him what happened. Filled him in on all the sordid details—the proof I saw with my own damn eyes. That should be enough for him. “Do you know something I don’t? Did she talk to you about what happened?”
His brow is furrowed in a scowl. “No. She would talk to you if you’d only just fucking listen to her.”
And just what the hell is that supposed to mean? Clearly he knows something I don’t. “She told you something, didn’t she? Did she confess her sins to you, Father?”
He’s across the room in a few sides, my usually serene brother visibly shaking with anger. I know how much he’d love to punch me in the mouth, but he’s all about mercy and forgiveness these days. “No, she didn’t, and if she had, it would be sacrosanct, you sanctimonious prick.”
I swallow down my anger. “Then what the hell do you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing. But I know her, you blind jackass. And you knew her too. But you let Papa get into your head about her. He made you suspicious before there was ever anything to be suspicious about.”
While it’s true that my father never particularly liked Rayne or approved of my friendship with Tommy, I still know what I fucking saw. I grab my brother by the shoulders. “I saw what she did, Angelo. With my own fucking eyes, I saw it.”
He shrugs out of my grip. “You saw a single snapshot in time, Enzo. And, yeah, I get it looked bad, but did you ever actually ask her about it? No, you just flew into a rage and acted accordingly, like you always fucking do.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He winces, like he’s said too much. Or maybe he wishes he could take back his words.
“Look, one of the things that makes you so good at what you do, one of the things that keeps you and our brothers alive, is your gut instinct.” He claps me on the back, and I’m reminded of a similar, albeit more emotionally charged, conversation with Rayne.
“But sometimes, big brother, even you can get it wrong. So how about you just do what you should have done six years ago and talk to her.”
I grind my jaw, knowing he’s right but refusing to admit it.
When I came back after dealing with Tommy, I did intend to talk to her.
I had every intention of asking her why the hell she betrayed me with him.
And then I saw she’d stripped the cum-stained sheets from the bed, and for some reason that made me even more angry than if she’d left them there.
Did she think it was that easy to hide what she’d done?
Instead of talking, I accused her of being a whore, and she just stood there looking broken.
Then she had the audacity to ask what I’d done to Tommy—the man she’d just fucked in our bed. And I saw red.
I fucking hate you. The last words I spoke to her before she left, and they haunt me still.
Even though I didn’t hate her, and I never could.
It would have been easier if I had, then maybe I could have let my father and Carmine handle her the way they dealt with anyone who brings disgrace to our family.
Instead, I bargained for her life with the only thing I had left. My undying loyalty.