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Monica places her hand over her chest and sighs. “I guess I’ve lost another son.”
The remark stings.
“You haven’t lost Leo,” I tell her.
“But he’s taking part in an operation?” Monica asks me. “He’s part of the family now?”
“It was bound to happen,” I say.
Hell, he was born into this family. If my mother didn’t want her sons engaging in criminal activities, she shouldn’t have married the head of a mafia organization.
Monica wraps her arms around herself and lets out another sigh. “Yes, I suppose so, especially with Leo. Antonio, he has no interest in this. I guess I was hoping it would rub off on Leo since they’re twins and all.”
Yup, they’re twins, but as identical as they look – blue eyes, brown hair, long faces, big noses – their personalities are as different as night and day. Antonio is the shy one. Bookish. Sweet. Obeys the rules. Never gets into trouble. And Leo? The complete opposite. Always looking for attention, rushing headlong into any kind of mischief. I don’t think that will ever change.
“He’ll be fine,” I try to assure my mother.
Leo may not like going to school or burying his nose in books, but I know he’s just as smart as Antonio. He might have a penchant for getting into trouble, but he also knows how to get out of it. Plus, he’s quick, agile and tenacious. Sometimes too tenacious. I wonder if Orso was like that when he was younger.
“Is he going to be with you?” Monica asks me.
I nod.
She grabs my hands and looks into my eyes. “Then please look after your little brother.”
Half-brother, I correct mentally. One I didn’t know he existed until three years ago. And not little by any means. Not anymore.
“He doesn’t think of himself that way,” I say.
“And you?” My mother squeezes my hands. “Do you think of him that way?”
I don’t know. I’ve been living by myself for so long that I don’t even know if I’m capable of thinking of anyone else.
“Cain.” My mother’s hand presses against my cheek. “Whatever the case may be, Leo is your brother. He shares your blood as you share mine. Please promise me you’ll watch over him and bring him back safely.”
I draw a deep breath as I look away from her pleading eyes.
Begging. I can’t stand begging any more than making promises I can’t keep.
“I’ll try,” I tell my mother. “I have a more important job to do, but…”
“Thank you,” she cuts me off as she wraps her arms around me.
I say nothing, my gaze on the floor.
I guess I am going to be a babysitter. Fuck.
Just then, I lift my gaze and catch a glimpse of someone peeking around the corner. Antonio. Our eyes meet for just a second, concern in his, and then he disappears without a word.
I guess he knows what’s going on. I’m guessing he doesn’t like it, either. If only he could talk some sense into his twin. If anyone can do it, he can. He’s the original babysitter, the only one who can calm Leo down or pull him away from a fight. Ironically, though, as much as Leo cares about his brother, he also tends to be more stubborn around him. Sometimes, I think he tries to do the opposite of what Antonio would do just to prove he’s his own person.
Twins. I sure am glad I don’t have one.
My mother pulls her arms away and squeezes my shoulder. “And take care of yourself, too, okay?”
I nod. “I always do.”
~
I go back to the rental van hidden in the woods after I’m done scouting Esposito’s house, which is basically a stone fortress with cameras everywhere and at least six guards. Nothing I can’t handle. I was expecting more, actually, but I’m guessing they’re posted at the other locations.
To my surprise, Leo is still there behind the wheel. I half expected him to follow me, but he didn’t even try to. At the very least, I thought I’d find him sitting on the hood, smoking a cigarette and spouting curses, but it looks like he hasn’t moved an inch. He’s been quiet the whole trip, too, mainly on his phone. No whining. No insults. Maybe he has grown up, after all.
“You’re behaving,” I remark as I prepare my weapons.
Leo says nothing. He just pulls his cap further over his forehead.
Or is he sulking because he has to stay in the van? Whatever. As long as he stays out of trouble.
I put on my shoulder holster.
“Stay in the van.”
No cocky comeback. No snort. No glare.
I slip my arm through the window and grab his. “Did you hear me?”
Quiet is good, but communication is important, too.
“Yes,” he answers, meeting my gaze for just a second.
So he hates me so much now he won’t even look at me? Fine.
I let go of his arm. “I’ll call you once I have the painting.”
