Chapter 7
SEVEN
DECLAN
The sounds of Sofee’s hurried footsteps fill the phone’s speaker in my hand. Although I never turned on the video feed to watch her, I could still hear how she stumbled over her words while talking to this Joel guy. The way he made her giggle like a preteen girl made my blood pressure rise when I first heard it. Not to mention when she called him handsome. A deep growl rumbles in my chest as I picture her talking with some strange man.
I’m sitting outside the hospital tonight, watching her, or listening to her from my phone, rather. All of us have the same app installed on our phones that Max designed for us. The Sofee App, better known as TSA, not only ensures that each of us has our own personal listening device but also makes it easier to monitor Sofee when we can’t be with her. With the app, I have access to the hospital camera feed, but I choose not to watch tonight. Even though I want nothing more than to see the man she was flirting with, I still don’t want to see her after what happened last week. Unfortunately, it’s my night to babysit the brat, and since I still have my head on my shoulders, it’s obvious she hasn’t told her brother about what happened last week.
Yet .
I didn’t get much sleep that night. And by much, I mean I didn’t sleep at all. After what I did to Sofee and smashing the glass of bourbon on the wall across the bar, after she slammed her door closed and hid from me, I cleaned up my mess and headed out for the rest of the night. Fearful of what I might have done if I tried to sleep in the room across from hers. I climbed on my bike and just drove around NOLA for hours, trying desperately to get rid of the images of her bending to my will out of my mind.
Even now, I feel the burning sensation on my palms as if they can still sense her warmth from here. The way she melted completely against me, not even attempting to break free from my grasp. She allowed me to move her as I pleased without resistance. It was as if she craved the same thing I did at that moment - to be used as much as I wanted to be the user.
“Dr. Haley, you have a patient waiting for you in bed seven. Possible shoulder dislocation.”
Her hushed voice is barely audible as she tries to wake the attending physician. Her words are muffled as if something is covering the small listening device in her ID badge, but I can still hear her nonetheless.
Just like I could hear every word she spoke to the “handsome” stranger, as she called him. I clench my jaw as I think about her talking to the man I couldn’t see. This Joel McCoy . While it’s fresh in my memory, I swipe out of TSA and text the name to Max before flicking back to the app just as quickly. I want a background check as soon as possible. He may be harmless, but he also might not be. Either way, I intend to find out.
I try to convince myself that my concern is solely for her safety and not driven by jealousy. I’m definitely not envious of the way he made her laugh or how she seemed befuddled by his looks. Why the fuck did she call him handsome? Doesn’t she realize she shouldn't say shit like that to a man if she doesn't want his attention? The idea of her flirting, although poorly, with anyone other than me, makes me thirsty for blood even though I have no right to be.
Sofee isn’t mine and never will be. She’s a free woman who’s allowed to spend any amount of time she wants with other men. But even as I try to make myself believe the words, another force within me howls otherwise.
That stupid primal part inside my soul roars that I’m wrong. That she is mine and she’s just yet to learn that fact. This shadowy part of me wants to do what I did to her last week and so much more. He never wanted me to stop.
He wanted me to pull her lips to mine and punish her for years of torturing the both of us. Salivated for me to taste her tongue before bending her past the point of breaking. To flip her around and shove her up on the bar, rip her scrubs from her hips, and devour her wholly. The first taste of her dripping cunt would have been like being surrounded by a blazing inferno when I’ve been stuck out in a blizzard all my life. She would have ravaged my entire being with her white-hot light when all I’ve ever known is the frigid gloom.
But the part of me that still had rational thought pulled away before I could cross that line. That minuscule slice of my psyche reeled me back in, preventing me from not only ruining her completely but also damaging my relationship with her brother. Liam would never forgive me if I sullied her innocence with my tainted soul.
But even as I contemplate the repercussions of my actions, I find myself caring less and less about the inevitable backlash. Don’t get me wrong, I’d hate to lose the bond Liam and I have created over the years. It’s just that there’s something about the little brat that I can’t get out of my head, and the urge to fuck her out of my system is becoming overpowering.
This past week has been hell. Ever since I had a tiny taste of her, I've been dying for another hit. It's only out of keeping myself busy that I've managed to stay away from her at all. Between scouring my underworld connections for any leads on where Matteo might be holding up, having no luck in that venture, and fixing up one of the apartments above the shop, I've exhausted myself in order to stay away from her. But despite my efforts to stay busy, my thoughts inevitably drift back to her.
I don’t know if it's the fact that she’s literally built like my fucking wet dream or if it’s that she has no qualms about antagonizing me. Or it could also be that she seems like the missing half of me. The half I lost all those years ago when my father slit its throat and buried it in the cold, desolate ground. Maybe on some subconscious level, I’ve always been searching for that tiny sliver of hope that was snatched from me that day.
What if Sofee is that hope? Am I really willing to let the possibility of becoming whole again slip right through my fingers?
Feeling a growl rise within me, I step away from my bike and toss my phone onto the worn leather seat. My skin feels constricted, overheated. The impulse to shed my layers and bare myself to the early morning darkness becomes too much. I quickly rip my leather vest from my shoulders and throw it onto my bike, covering the small device and relieving some of the strain off myself. My fingers comb through my short beard before I drag them up to my eyes, rubbing until dark spots dance behind my closed lids.
What the fuck am I thinking? Of course I’m going to let go of this insane infatuation with Sofee. All the reasons to keep my distance from her still stand true. I’m no good for her, or anyone else for that matter. There’s something ominous that lurks within me that isn’t meant to find joy. The only things that will come from me giving into my infernal urges are sensual gratification and the disintegration of everything she is. I will ruin her.
I may bitch and moan about not liking what she stands for, but at the end of the day, the world is a better place because of people like her. I'm just an unholy, villainous delinquent seeking a way of defiling her light for my own personal gain.
I drag my hand down my face before glancing at my watch. It’s just after five in the morning, almost time for Sofee to end her shift. Good . Even though I’m nowhere near her, I still feel the need to run away. Far away where my depraved, lust-filled thoughts are forced to shut the fuck up.
Muffled words come over the speaker, now buried under my vest. I’ve just gripped the thick leather to retrieve it when headlights from a sleek black Audi grab my attention first. The car pulls into the parking lot and, to my surprise, heads right toward me.
Without thinking twice, I reach behind me and lift my black T-shirt at my lower back. I slide my hand against my overheated skin until my fingers graze the cold metal pressed there. The weight of my Glock becomes a comfort as I curl my hand around the grip.
The car rolls closer and closer still until it comes to a complete stop in front of me. The headlights are almost blinding as I try to see who’s in the driver's seat. When the car finally shuts off and the lights dim, the pistol in my hand nearly compels me to draw it.
What does that say about me that I want to use it more now that I know who’s in that car rather than when it was a mystery?
Romeo grins at me as if I'm the person he wants to see most in the world. I only wish the feeling was mutual.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he says as he steps out of the fancy car and shuts the door. It’s dark out save for the street lights, but I can still see every one of his features as if it were broad daylight.
What he’s wearing tonight is much like what he wore in the meeting last week. Black button-down rolled up to his elbows, pressed pleated slacks, and shiny oxfords. His necklace is still in place, just like the Rolex dripping from his wrist. The twin black crows on the back of his hands still catch my eye, just as they did the first time he walked into the clubhouse. Never having seen them before that day.
My brother always had tattoos, we both did. We were obsessed with them, even when I was still around. I remember the day we went behind Papà's back and got our first of many. We were barely fifteen. Some might argue that we were too young to make decisions that we’d be stuck with for the rest of our lives. But both of us had already lost whatever innocence we once had years before that, having taken the lives of countless men before the idea of drawing timeless artwork on our flesh even crossed our minds.
Fuck what others think about being ready for commitments of the flesh, normal people have never had the right to dictate what we do with our bodies. Unless they have walked in our shoes for a lifetime, they have no right to an opinion.
Though I can’t see the tattoo hidden by his dark shirt, I know the delicate script letters still mar the flesh above his heart. Just as I know the same words adorn mine. Sono con te . A promise we made to one another all those years ago.
If only either of us knew that promise would be broken only a short five years later.
I scowl at my unwanted visitor as I release my grip on my pistol and replace my shirt. Even though I want nothing more than for him to leave me alone, shooting him would only attract unwanted attention. Though, it would make me feel better at the end of the day.
His shiny shoes scrape against the pavement as he walks closer to me. I lean against my bike and cross my arms over my chest. He stops directly in front of me and studies me for a long moment before finally speaking.
“You look like shit, Fratellino ,” he says with a hint of humor lilting his tone.
I don’t say a word, even though all I want to do is roar at him for calling me the name I thought I’d scrubbed from my memory. The nickname my brother has always called me, even though he’s only moments older than me. A name that sounds too much like echoes of the past.
“No, Fratellino. Let her go, I beg you.”
Rome’s past plea reverberates through my skull, followed closely by my scream of anguish. I can almost feel his tightened arms around me, holding me back from the brink of damnation. I will the vision away before it consumes me and simply stare at the man I happen to share the same face with, waiting for him to get to the point of this visit.
“Ah,” he smiles and steps closer. “Still the strong and stoic type, I see. I’m glad to see not much has changed.”
“What is it you came here for, Romeo?” I grit out, meaning more than just this morning. I need him to tell me why he’s truly here and get to the point so he can leave my sight. Looking at him is too fucking hard and I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this shit anymore.
He huffs a laugh before coming closer. “Seeing as I haven't heard from your boss in over a week and you've been dodging my calls, I’m just here to talk,” he says as he slides up next to me and leans his ass against my Harley. I try my best not to snarl at him, knowing it will only lead to the police being called when we eventually go for each other's throats.
The reason he hasn't heard from Owen is that he's letting me call the shots when it comes to working with Rome. It's moments like these that remind me why I follow my club president. He respects me enough to allow me to be the determining factor in deciding whether we work with my brother or not. Even if the logical decision is to do so, if I said no, I know without a doubt Owen will respect my decision.
I watch Romeo carefully as he pulls a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He taps the package against his palm until a couple poke out the top. Settling one between his lips, he offers me the other. I turn my nose up at the offer and shake my head in response. He shrugs, replaces the pack, and digs in the pocket of his slacks, producing a small box of matches. The match sizzles and sparks to life as he strikes it and brings the flame to the tip of his smoke. When he inhales deeply, a look of euphoria crosses his dark features.
He blows out the foul-smelling smoke and holds the now-smoldering cigarette in front of him. He looks at it but speaks to me. “Dom keeps telling me I should quit, but it just feels so goddamn good,” he says, mentioning a name I haven’t heard in years.
Dominic Morelli is one of our closest cousins and most likely Rome’s Underboss. Normally, the Underboss is someone of direct bloodline to the Boss, but seeing as I want nothing to do with the family or the title, it likely fell to the closest blood relative. I can understand why Romeo chose him for that position. Dom has always been more like a brother to us and as close to a decent person as you can find in a family like ours. I haven't seen the son of a bitch in years, and I find myself wondering how he is. But I don’t dare ask Rome. Wouldn't want him to think I miss anything about home.
“That and the chances of me making it to my fifties are slim to none. So I may as well enjoy the little things that might kill me one day.” He smiles over at me as he takes another long drag from his smoke. “I like the feeling of having death between my lips. Makes me feel alive,” he breathes.
Behind me, I hear Sofee’s muffled words under my vest. My annoyance flares to life as Rome twists his torso and looks down at it. The urge to rip the phone out from beneath the leather and switch it off is almost overwhelming. For some reason, having Rome here to listen in on her without her knowledge feels like a huge invasion of privacy.
Yeah, right. I laugh at myself inside my mind. As if me listening in isn’t just as bad, if not worse. At least Rome doesn't want to take advantage of her, unlike me.
“Ahh, very sneaky, brother. I may have underestimated the MC’s ability to engage in covert operations,” he nods in the direction of the receiver. “What is the lovely Sofee up to this evening?”
Red rims my vision as he poses the question. My arms crossed over my chest flex as I reign in my urge to pummel him for even speaking her name. “None of your fucking business,” I bite out, malice dripping from each syllable. My jaw ticks and nostrils flare as a wide grin spreads across his face. His brilliant white teeth make a brief appearance before he pulls his gaze away from me.
“You’re still just as transparent as ever.” He clicks his tongue before taking another deep drag from his fag.
Not giving him the satisfaction of a reply, I push away from my bike and stand directly in front of my twin now. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to eliminate the threat, even if he’s only a threat to me and not the woman I’m supposed to be looking after.
“Tell me,” my brother's voice overshadows the one in my head. “Does your best friend realize you want to fuck his little sister?”
I clench my jaw and say nothing, refusing to fall for his instigating tactics. But when he smiles, I know I'm about to lose this game.
“Do you think he’ll be okay with you fucking her? You must not think very highly of your brother if you're so willing to defile his little sister,” he taunts. It takes everything in me to remain silent as the blood boils in my veins.
Romeo takes another long drag. “I can see how someone like her would overshadow all those doubts about what you want to do to her,” he shrugs. “She’s obviously got a body built for a hard fuck. Even I have to admit she would look oh so tasty on her knees, drooling and begging for a fat cock,” he laughs, smoke still coming from his mouth as he smiles darkly at me. “Hell, maybe I’ll take her for a spin if you don't have the balls to.”
At that moment, Romeo stops being my brother, stops being the one person I know better than myself. He no longer resembles someone I once would have died for and is now the person I hate most in this world. Everything we ever were vanishes as I only see the man who ruined my life, even if he looks nothing like Lorenzo Morelli.
I don’t even try to hold myself back as I charge the man I once considered my equal. And as if he expected this fight, instigated this altercation on purpose, he blows out his last cloud of smoke and throws his cigarette to the ground. The bright red cherry flares and scatters to the ground below as I rear back and send my clenched fist right into my brother's jaw.
The sickening crunch that follows the strike blocks out the pain radiating throughout my hand. I don’t stop as he brings his arms up to shield himself. I throw another punch, landing it in his gut. He grunts and doubles over, trying to regain his breath as the air is stolen from him.
I grab the back of his shirt and throw him toward his car. He stumbles and slams into the hood, trying to remain on his feet as I rush him again. Roaring in fury, I tackle him, and we both fall onto the hood of his overpriced car. It pops and caves in under our weight as I push him back. He quickly rams his palm into my chin, pushing me away from him. Pain flares before I smoothly slip away from him long enough to send my fist into his nose.
This time, he groans and curses as blood gushes from his nostrils. Bloodlust kicks in, and I easily slip into kill mode. I land blow after blow against his ribs, feeling the skin on my knuckles split and bleed under the force. His ribs crack and groan under my fists, but he still fights back as much as the position allows him. Lashing out, he catches my jaw just enough to make spots dance behind my eyes. I growl as I taste the metallic tinge of blood in my mouth.
I try to punch him again, but this time he catches my right hand, and then my left when I try again. He bares his bloody teeth up at me in a wicked grin. I pull my arms wide and put all my weight on him. His grip is iron-clad as he refuses to let go of me. Blind rage covers me as I’ve never felt before, fully engulfing me within its fiery red depths and consuming me whole.
His grip on my wrists is stronger than any vise, and I have no hope of breaking it with simple brute force. So, I lean back as far as I can and bring my forehead down against his nose in one quick movement. His cartilage pops and snaps as he curses and releases my wrists. Blood bubbles from his nose and mouth, exciting that savage monster writhing under my skin. It chants the new mantra that sings through my blood.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
As he sputters beneath me, I press my open hand against his throat as hard as I can and reach behind me, palming my 9mm for the second time this evening. In a flash, I draw the gun and press the barrel against his temple. My trigger finger twitches with the need to squeeze. I bare my teeth at my brother, pushing the gun against him so hard that I know it will leave a bruise.
Even as I’ve let the blind rage consume me, I know this was all a ploy to get me to talk to him. Even if I don’t truly understand what he wants, I know it’s not Sofee.
My hand is shaking with the effort of holding the gun against him. I should pull the fucking trigger. I should bury him right alongside my past and never look back. But even though all I want to do is erase him from existence, I just can't.
My whole body is wracked with violent tremors as I push my face to his. Pressing our foreheads together, I scream in rage. Never moving my face away from his, I pull the gun back and slam it down next to his head, further denting the once-polished hood.
I stand abruptly, gun in hand, knuckles dripping blood, chest heaving, and corners of my vision watery. “What the fuck do you want from me?” I scream, my voice a shattered, ragged mess.
He sputters and coughs as he slides down the hood. His clean black shoes scuff against the pavement below as he lands on his ass in a heap. His arm cradles his middle as a breath wheezes out of his lungs. His eyes tighten as he clutches his likely broken ribs and spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
I loom over him as he finally meets my hard gaze. “Is it so hard to believe that I want my brother back?” he groans, breathing heavily.
“You didn't seem to give a shit that I was your brother when Father killed Alana in front of me like she was a fucking dog,” I protest, waving my gun in his face.
If my firearm being so close to ending his life bothers him, he doesn't show it. “As if I ever had a choice!” His shouted objection is broken in the way only anguish causes. I say nothing, silently willing him to continue.
He grunts as he tries to move. Slowly, he gets to his knees and then to his feet. He rolls himself up until he finally stands tall, or as tall as his fucked up ribs allow him to stand. He winces as he takes a step toward me.
“You think I enjoyed watching what happened that day?” he hisses through clenched teeth as he scowls at me. “I was given a fucking choice. He told me if I didn't hold you back, he would kill you both. Said he only needed one son to carry on the family name.”
His answer is nothing more than what I expected. “You should have let me go,” I rasp, my voice long having gone gravelly from my wails.
He laughs, wincing at the motion. “Why? So I could have buried two bodies that night?”
“Yes!” I yell, my voice breaking. “That’s exactly what you should have done. It was never supposed to be her. She should have never gotten involved. You should have let me take care of Father, and none of this would have happened.” My chest heaves as I stare at my twin. “But instead, you condemned an innocent woman to her death.”
Rome steps closer to me, less than an arm's length away. His jaw hardens and his eyes flare with a darkness I haven’t seen in years.
“No, brother, I didn’t condemn anyone. You did that the moment you brought her into our lives. You knew what would happen if Father caught you, and you did it anyway. You were so hell-bent on living your own life that you never even stopped to think about the repercussions of your actions. You killed Alana, not Papà , not me. You.”
The truth knocks the breath from my lungs. I stagger back as though he’s struck me until my legs graze the side of my bike. My chest heaves, trying to regain what was stolen from it as I lean back. I let go of my gun, not caring where it lands, as I grip the leather seat beneath me.
Rome releases his ribs and steps closer again, moving slowly as if gauging my reaction. I’m not going to hit him again. My volatile rage sizzled out the moment he relayed the truth I’ve always known.
I’ve spent most of my life running from the past, from the Morellis, when I knew damn well there was no escaping my reality. Alana's death was and always will be my fault. I may not have held the blade, but I slit her throat all the same.
“I thought I was doing the one thing I needed to in order to save you. To save us,” he mumbles as he comes closer until he’s leaning against my bike again. I feel his gaze against the side of my head but I refuse to look at him. “If I would’ve known,” he pauses and swallows thickly. “I may have only dug one grave that night, but I still walked away without my brother. You left me. Left me to survive all of it on my own. You were still dead to me even if I never put you in the ground.”
His admission compels my gaze to meet his. Despite the darkness, his eyes still shimmer with unhashed emotion. He huffs a humorless laugh and gazes up at the sky.
“I’ve waited so fucking long for that phone call. You may not believe it, but I’ve always hoped I’d hear from you again. And even if you're pissed at me and want to shoot me, it’s so good to finally see you again, Fratellino. ” he admits before shaking his head and pushing away from my bike. He shuffles stiffly toward his dented car and opens the driver's door. But before he ambles in, he turns to me again.
“I may have my own reasons for wanting the Pelosis gone, but they are just a shadow of the real reason why I want to help you. Papà is gone, Dec. And I know I can never make up for his sins, nor do I want to, but I can do right by you. Let me prove to you that I still need my brother by my side. Let me help you make sure Sofee doesn’t suffer the same fate as your Alana,” he says before sliding into the car.
He cranks the vehicle before lowering his window and rolling forward. The muscles in his jaw feather as I study his side profile. Almost as if he refuses to look at me as he speaks, he keeps his eyes fixed ahead with a tight grip on the steering wheel.
“I came here tonight to let you know we may have found a lead that could point us to Matteo.” My attention peaks at his words, causing my back to go rigid. “We think we’ve found the guy who hosted Antonio while he was in town. He may have some info on his brother's whereabouts.” He finally glances up at me before continuing. “Text me when you’re ready to talk.”
With that, he rolls up the window and drives out of the parking lot, not waiting for my reply, as if he knew I wouldn’t be giving one. His tail lights are the last thing I see as I dissociate from the world around me.
Can I really trust him? Do I truly believe everything he shared with me tonight? Without second-guessing it, I know that he’s telling the truth about the night Alana died. I knew even then that Father would have killed me right alongside her, and the only reason he didn’t is because Romeo wouldn’t let me go. But can I trust him to help me save Sofee?
A faint feminine murmur comes over the small speaker behind me, catching my attention. I push away from my bike and move my vest, glancing down at the phone.
She isn’t speaking to anyone other than herself. She does that a lot and doesn’t even realize it. Her words are nothing more than incoherent little mumbles, but they bring a small grin to my lips. And just like that, I have my answer. It’s at that moment I realize I’ll do anything to protect this woman, even if that means making a deal with the devil himself.