Chapter 20 #2
Most joggers avoid the tunnel unless they’re looking to score, which makes it the perfect place for us to deal with the trash.
Our footsteps echo off the stones, and it’s easy to hear the sound of someone coming up fast behind us.
There’s just enough light coming from either end for us to see each other, but it’s dim enough that I’m sure dipshit back there thinks he’s sneaking up on us.
I’m not packing, considering I was only expecting a walk around the park with my brother.
But Sparrow has it covered, reaching under his shirt and pulling out a long, serrated blade right as the Reaper’s hot, rancid breath tickles the back of my neck.
I duck and spin around, sweeping my leg out to knock his feet right out from under him.
“Nice,” Sparrow says as the Reaper hits the ground with a loud “Oomph.”
“Thanks.” I stand back up and bring my foot down hard in the center of the Reaper’s chest. “Hey, loser, what the fuck is your problem? We’re just a couple of guys out for a walk.”
“Oh, that’s my fault,” Sparrow says, not bothering to wait for an answer from the guy, who’s trying to catch his breath as I press my boot harder and harder into his diaphragm. “I have quite the reputation with these cockroaches. They see me and they just can’t help themselves.”
I shake my head at him. “That’s why you can’t leave a single one alive.
Years of going to their parties and picking them off in the alleys behind their favorite bars and they still couldn’t pick me out of a lineup.
Did Xaviaro tell you they thought they were being haunted by an actual ghost?
” I laugh and grind my boot down harder while Sparrow gives the Reaper a kick in the ribs for good measure.
“It’s not like I leave them alive on purpose. These fuckers can be slippery. Plus, I got a reputation after I married Xaviaro.” He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s a whole thing. Anyway, we probably shouldn’t play with our food.”
He flips the knife artfully like he’s Tom Cruise in Cocktail, catching it by the handle midair, then dropping to one knee in a fluid movement to plunge it into the Reaper’s throat. The biker’s eyes go wide, and he gurgles once, then spews a mouthful of blood and goes still.
“Nicely done,” I say as he yanks his knife back out.
He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, wipes the blood off, then tucks the knife away again.
“Shit, how are we going to lug this loser out of here to get rid of the body? We can’t exactly drag a bleeding corpse through Middle Park.
And it will probably piss your husband off if I leave another one lying around after that warning and all. ”
Sparrow snorts a laugh and slips his phone out of his back pocket.
“Don’t worry, Xaviaro won’t lay a finger on you, and neither will Lorenzo.
” He taps at the screen for a second, then I hear a faint ringing on the other side as he brings it up to his ear.
“Hey, Killer, could you send one of your guys to the Middle Park tunnel to clean up a little mess for us?”
Xaviaro’s response is too muffled to hear, but I swear I can hear affectionate exasperation in the timbre of his reply. Sparrow laughs again at whatever he says.
“You know they’re like flies on shit when they see me.
Just because I had fun slitting his throat doesn’t mean it wasn’t self-defense.
” There’s another muffled reply. “You love me,” Sparrow says.
“We’re going to leave him here. If the cops find him before someone cleans him up, it’ll most likely look like a drug deal gone wrong.
” Xaviaro must tell him that in order for that theory to hold up, we need to take his drugs, because that’s exactly what Sparrow does, bending down again and stuffing the baggies full of Crystal into his pockets before telling his husband he’ll see him later and ending the call.
“Well, that was some fun brotherly bonding, right?” he says cheerfully as we make our way back out of the tunnel.
“I’m not complaining. After the Reapers are all gone, maybe we should try one of those rage rooms together.” I smirk.
“Sure.” He falls into step with me on our way back down the jogging path, away from the tunnel. “Anything but bowling. I hate bowling.”
“Noted.” I chuckle. “Is there anything I hate? Or hated?”
It’s weird to think that he probably knows more about me than I’ll ever know about myself at this point.
Then again, is Benny even who I am anymore?
Do his preferences and dislikes even apply to this version of me?
I almost want him to tell me something I had a major distaste for just so I can try it now and find out if it holds up.
Sparrow seems to think about it for a minute or so before answering. “You hated being told what to do.”
“That checks out.” I laugh.
“You could rant for hours about how stupid you thought line dancing was, you preferred chai lattes over coffee, and you were a fucking pool shark like I’ve never seen.
When you were sixteen, you were this scrawny, preppy looking kid, and you used to use a fake ID to get into the sleaziest bars so you could bilk all the cocky barflies out of their money playing pool.
” The fondness in his voice makes my chest ache, and most of what he says has a vague air of familiarity to it, but it’s still more like I’m hearing about someone I used to know instead of myself.
“We should play pool sometime, then,” I say.
“I’m in,” he agrees without hesitation.
We reach the entrance of the park again and we both stop just inside the gate to look at each other.
“I’m really fucking happy you’re alive. I know that’s kind of dumb to say, because obviously I’m happy, but I can’t even think of a bigger word.
I’ve felt like part of myself has been missing all these years, and having you back in my life…
” He swallows hard and looks away again to drag his hand across his cheek.
“I felt the same way, even if I didn’t understand it. We’re not going to lose each other again,” I promise him, and his eyes snap to mine with a fierceness I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
“Never. I would fucking kill someone before I’d let them take you from me again.”
I laugh and glance vaguely back in the direction we just came from. “That much is clear. And back atcha.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds, lingering in the awareness that neither of us are the people we used to be, we don’t even go by the names we grew up with, but our bond never has and never will waver.
Sparrow clears his throat and stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“Pool next week?” He backs towards the gate. “I’ll rope the rest of the Mafia Wives into coming along so you can meet them and take all their money too.”
I bark out a laugh. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you.”
“See you,” he says, and with that we both go our separate ways.
ALESSIO
I hear the front door open and close and my heart beats just a little faster. Damn, I don’t think I could be more corny, but it’s true. Just knowing Spettro is home, in the same apartment as me, makes my whole body feel lighter.
“Perfect timing, I’m working on dinner,” I call out, stirring the simmering tomato sauce and checking on the pasta to make sure I don’t overcook it.
The soft clomp of his footsteps coming down the hallway sounds cautious, and I turn to look over my shoulder as soon as they stop. He stands right in the entrance to the kitchen with a slightly wary look on his face as he glances at the dirty dishes and various foods on the counter, then at me.
“Everything okay? Did you have a good time with Sparrow?”
“We killed a Reaper,” he says casually, and I chuckle.
“That sounds about right.” I jerk my head to beckon him closer. “Come here and tell me if there’s enough garlic in the sauce.”
I know damn well there’s the perfect amount of garlic in my sauce, just like my Nonna taught me, but I want my Spettro closer to me. I want him in the kitchen, taking up space, looking like he belongs instead of like he’s still wondering whether he should bolt. He doesn’t move.
“Sorry, this is just…” He swallows hard, rakes his fingers through his hair, and gives me an apologetic smile. “I don’t know how to do this, Alessio. I feel like an alley cat you brought in from outside and I don’t know the first damn thing about being domesticated.”
“Why do you think I’m cooking for you?” I joke, holding up the sauce spoon and jerking my head again. “Everyone knows that the best way to stop a stray cat from climbing out the window at the first opportunity is to keep them well fed.”
Spettro chuckles and finally takes a step into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs.
It might even be the chair I sat him down in at gunpoint the night he broke in.
His gloves come off next, and he hesitates for a second before tossing them onto the table.
Then he takes another slow step forward.
“You really want to waste your time teaching me how to be a normal fucking person?” he asks, taking one shuffling step after another until he reaches the stove, leaving only a few inches of space between us.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I say without hesitation, bringing the sauce spoon up to his lips.
He opens his mouth and takes a small taste, humming with approval and nodding.
I put the spoon back into the sauce and grab just the hem of his shirt, careful not to touch him directly.
“I don’t want normal, Spettro. I want you. ”
He stares at me for a long second, searching my eyes like he’s looking for any evidence that I’m lying.
“I could love you, Alessio.”
My heart jumps and my lips twitch with a restrained smile. “I could love you, Spettro.”
He cups my jaw and our lips meet in a surprisingly soft kiss.
I think I prefer the rough, biting, demanding way he usually kisses me, but I have to admit that there’s something kind of nice about slow and tender every once in a while.
As long as it’s Spettro’s lips on mine, I don’t think I’ll ever have a complaint.
He breaks the kiss and smiles, the nerves melting out of his eyes little by little.
“I probably already lost my apartment,” he says.
“Good. I wasn’t going to let you move out anyway.”
“Okay.” He grins a little wider and dips a finger into the saucepan for another taste.
“Okay,” I echo. It’s not a big enough word, but it will do.