CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Read it and weep
— CLEMENTE —
There are a million things running through my head and most of them involve the indication about this being a bad decision. And I’ve never doubted any decision I’ve made in my life. Not even if it caused men to die or risk my own life for that matter.
But this is different. Different because I couldn’t care less about my own damn life but the thought of any harm inflicted on Rina makes my chest tighten to the point of physical pain.
“Are you sure he’ll be okay?” Rina questions.
Here I’m thinking about all the things that might go wrong in the next few minutes and all she thinks about is the dog.
“It’s a dog. He’s tired after all the exercise he got, running after the ball until he just plunked down. He’s sleeping safely in his kennel. Stop worrying about the damn dog.”
“Rocco,” she snaps, making me tear my eyes away from the restaurant in front of us.
“What?”
“The dog. His name is Rocco. You keep saying the dog.”
I give a shrug. “He replies to anything you call him, it’s the tone of voice he responds to.”
“Well, then, the same can be said about you.”
Confusion hits me and I come to a stop right in front of the restaurant. “What could be said about me?”
She releases a deep sigh. “It’s the tone of voice he responds to.
Your words. Well, if you really think that, then you can set the tone for this situation.
You’re way too tense. Your eyes are all over the place as if you’re hyperactive and expect bullets to start flying along with knives to end both of us.
Set the tone, Clemente. I’ve seen you do it every time you walk into a room. ”
I can feel a smile starting to tug my lips. “Is that so?”
“Uh huh,” she muses and smooths her hands over my chest to eliminate imaginary wrinkles.
“Don’t fish for more compliments, I won’t give them.
I do have something to give you, though.
My mother once gave it to my father and my father gave it to me right before I left.
I—” She swallows hard and sadness taints her gorgeous blue eyes.
I cup the side of her face and feather my lips against hers.
She pats my chest. “Okay, I’m going to rush this before my eyes start leaking and I’m not sure I used waterproof mascara.” She reaches inside her purse to grab something before she places it in my hand. “Here you go.”
“What is it?” I question and open my hand to look at the cold metal.
“My love,” she says in a “Duh,” tone and this woman has perfected the ability to do so.
Again, my mouth twitches and I see the solid silver colored ring with the word “Love,” shaped to fit two fingers.
“Your love,” I empathize.
“Uh huh,” she says again. “Read it and weep. Knock someone in the face with it and they will weep while you’ll see it imprinted negatively.
Fun. Right? Well, it was funny for my mother.
She gave it to my father with that statement when she knew she loved him.
I wasn’t going to...I never expected—” She cuts herself off and clears her throat.
“Never mind the why and how. It just feels right for you to have it.”
I slide the ring on my fingers and gently cup her neck to guide her mouth toward mine. “Thank you,” I whisper over her lips before I kiss her tenderly, showing her without words I accept and hold all the love for her in return.
When I finally pull back she still has her eyes closed and a dreamy expression on her face. Her full lips are red, puffy, and well used. “Let’s go handle this maggot so we can go home and enjoy ourselves. Then you can stop worrying about the dog.”
“Rocco,” she huffs. “The dog has a name.” She laces our fingers and pulls me into the restaurant.
A young woman standing at the front door is functioning as hostess and she doesn’t even look up from scribbling something on a piece of paper when she says, “Sorry, it’s quite busy. A table will take at least forty-five minutes.”
“I’m sure you have a table free if you actually check to see who you’re welcoming.” My tone of voice sounds as bored as she seems to be, but at least I kept my calm in reprimanding her.
The hostess’ eyes dart up and the pen falls from her fingers. “Mister Dimentello, I am so sorry. What a pleasant surprise, of course we have a table for you. Is Fredo expecting you?”
“Nosy little one, aren’t you?” I grumble.
Rina smiles at the hostess. “I was simply craving lasagna and my sweet husband thought we’d swing by here to have dinner.”
She returns the smile and jumps into action, showing us to a table in the corner before she heads back to her place, probably to mindlessly doodle some more.
Our table is large and round and I skirt around the edge to take the seat with my back to the wall, eliminating any blind threat coming from behind me.
Without a word Rina takes a seat next to me so she also has her back to the wall, both of us now overlooking the large room of the restaurant.
The words the hostess mentioned about it being quite busy was a bold lie.
Either that or there are a lot of reservations and the people will get here any second, but I’m doubtful.
Rina leans in. “Except for our guy sitting in the left corner and the two who just walked in, taking a seat on our right...there are ten other people in this room. How the hell is that quite busy? Or do they have one chef or something? And just so you know, I’m not putting anything in my mouth, I’m not trusting this whole. ..oh, fuck.”
Her curses are mingled with mine when we notice Dustin and Fredo chatting—along with his wife and daughter—who are strolling out of the kitchen all friendly and happy.
“Smile,” I grunt at Rina.
We are both carrying multiple weapons and the three people who we brought inside here are soldiers Fredo doesn’t know, so he won’t recognize them at first sight.
Leandro had them transferred here within an hour from our conversation.
The capo supplying them assured us they could handle anything.
And right now—as I fucking suspected—we just walked into a blind trap with Fredo and Dustin seeming to be well-oiled friends.
Arturo and Leandro, along with around twenty soldiers, are waiting outside.
Out-fucking-side while we’re in here. Outnumbered because I do recognize the six men sitting at a large table which Dustin and the others are heading toward.
Near the table, a family of four is having dinner and those folks seem to be the only ones not part of Dustin’s gang.
The way Dustin is smacking Fredo’s back is making the hairs on my neck stand on end.
I knew I couldn’t trust this fucker as far as I can throw him.
But then I notice his body slightly leaning away and the twitch of his lips indicating disgust. Yeah, Fredo’s a good poker playing asshole and he’s keeping up the charade for his wife and daughter.
But it’s still not enough to settle my nerves.
The little squeeze Rina is giving my hand is an odd reassurance in the middle of a whirlwind of thoughts. It’s as if she’s telling me “Together we can handle anything that comes our way.” And she’s right. Strength in numbers never held me back.
And right before we came here I made Rina shoot some target practice.
She was pissed and glared at me the whole time but I couldn’t care less.
Reassurance is the key with having a wife and feelings involved.
It’s what I fucking needed to get my head on straight before I accepted the idea she suggested.
And reassurance was all it was since she has a good aim and skills.
Not to mention the thrive of motivation since she knows the background story of this fucker.
He’s involved with the death of Mattia but also tortured Ivy.
This whole thing became very personal for Rina and she’s mentioned a few times how she hates herself for what happened in the bathroom when Daniel walked in.
Wet hands, no straight aim, all the excuses she hates that are wrapped with guilt are invalid.
Shootings are messy. Killing is messy. Moving objects are very different from target practice and even if you have all the skills and insight there are still a lot of angles you can’t foresee.
Like right now there are a lot of fucking angles.
But my confidence is back with the mere squeeze of Rina’s hand. Full fucking focus for what’s to come.
Dustin’s eyes lock on mine and a predatory grin slides in place.
His eyes dart to Rina and the fucker licks his bottom lip before he says, “I knew dinner would be tasteful, but damn, you really brought some nice dessert for me, did you now? Hmmm, mmm. Sexy piece of ass you brought me, Clemente. If this is a peace offering, I’m all for spreading the.
..well, obviously not the peace, more like spreading her legs. ”
The taunt is meant to make me irrational. Where I’ve been on edge ever since Rina suggested to come along, I’m now utterly calm and collected.
“Dustin Soren. I thought it was time to meet face to face and clear up a few misunderstandings.” Which will end with your head ripped from your torso and bouncing on the floor, I mentally add.
His mood shifts with satisfaction and a hint of surprise, making the fucker eagerly grab a chair to shove it back and take a place across from me.
“Dustin, we were going to—” Fredo’s daughter starts to whine, but Dustin cuts her off.
“Sit, Sofia.” He doesn’t so much as spare her a glance.
She ungracefully shoves a chair back and drops down.
“Not here, move your ass to the other table,” Dustin snaps.
Sofia glares at him, ignores his comment and stays right where she is.
Fredo waves a waitress over. “Why don’t we all get a few drinks.”
“No, thank you,” Rina politely refuses. “I’m suddenly not as eager to consume anything.”