Page 22 of Revenge on the Mafia

“Where the fuck are you, anyway?”

My bare feet sank into the sand as I gazed up at the house. Home. The weather was already hot. The bougainvillea wrapping around the house sparkled like gems. I sidestepped his question. “She can’t go if I have the plane.”

“Thank God.”

“You should do something about your separation anxiety, though. She’s only visiting her family.”

“Don’t like them.”

“Right—”

“You’ll get it when you lose it over a woman one day.”

Lost it already. Got her father killed. Can’t have her anymore.

“But then again, you don’t let anything bother you,” Enzo continued. “Besides, I have double the trouble now. Stefano is up to something. He’s too eager to go to Sicily.”

I knew exactly what Stefano was up to. But it wasn’t my business to get involved. On the far side of the beach, a woman emerged, aided by a nurse. Her floral dress was light, and it blew around her gently, picking up with the wind. A thick lump formed in my throat. Remorse seeped into my lungs like black ink. This place could have been so different had it not been for one sick bastard. Two, actually. I hoped she inflicted enough pain to give me a slow, painful death. Sesame would definitely be a start.

If only I could touch her. Just once.

Ridiculous. How could I want her to fuck me and kill me at the same time?

“You’re in Spain, aren’t you?” Enzo’s tone was wary.

I was, but telling him would make it all the more real. The past. The present. The future without me. Without her in my life.

He broke the silence with a sigh. “One day you’re going to tell me the whole story.”

“One day.” Not a chance. I’d already made plans to hide Anna from my brothers once she’d done what she had to do.

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Take your time. Maybe by then, Daria will have changed her mind.”

Knowing my sister-in-law, she wouldn’t. She’d go to Sicily. He’d go along with her. But I didn’t tell him that. I had better things to do with my limited time. It was a good day to be in Spain. If only I could turn back time.

CHAPTER TEN

ANNA

July 21st.

Es demasiado… estoy perdiendo la cabeza.

This is too much… I'm losing my mind.

I struggled with my new reality. Eight days in, and I was a glorified mess. My plans to end him had one gaping hole after another. Useless as a child’s drawing of a floor plan.

My research into him had been fruitless, so I was counting on fate intervening again. One last time.

I wasn’t an assassin. Didn’t want to be one either. I just wanted three fucking asesinos dead. One down. Two more to go. But I’d be happy with just another one. For an amateur, it wasn’t bad. Then I’d rest. Unless I figured out who the third man was who’d been in Papá’s office on that all-defining day.

My plan had been simple. Poison him and get back home. I had Mamá and Mara to take care of. But the longer I stayed, the more I felt the roles switching. I was his prey. There was a shift happening, and I couldn’t control it. The urge I had buried was resurfacing. Why was Papá killed? You’re a fucking thief. I quelled that thought immediately.

I untucked the sheets of the guest bedroom in his killer’s home while my mind piled with one question after another. He was just an accountant. Why would the Mafia want him dead? I’d known I would never have closure. Never find out what had happened or why. I wasn’t even entirely sure if I wanted answers. But Niccolò Martello was stirring poison in my mind, bringing up questions, and instead of avoiding them, I wanted answers. Somehow, it felt as if he knew everything.