Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) Page 9

  Sara rolled her eyes so intensely her irises practically disappeared. ‘That’s what I said. The last thing I wanted to do was freak you out, but your uncle wanted to be extra careful now that he’s got, like, a thousand hits on him. He was hellbent on making sure you weren’t running around with …’ – she faltered and something dark flittered across her face – ‘… with people you shouldn’t be,’ she finished. ‘It’s important that the information reaches you and only you. It can’t leak. At least not yet. I guess this was the only way to ensure that.’

  ‘I see.’ It all seemed so intense, so clandestine … so dangerous. They didn’t want to shatter the truce yet. They obviously didn’t realize it was already hanging by a thread. I swallowed hard. I felt like I had my finger in the dam, holding on to a secret that was swelling and swelling. ‘So where is he?’

  ‘I should go now.’ Sara fished a business card out of her pocket and held it in front of me. ‘Take it,’ she said. ‘Before they fire me!’ She pulled an elaborate mock frown; it dragged at her cheeks, revealing razor-sharp cheekbones. Her eyebrows sank low over her eyes and I was struck then by how familiar she seemed. That expression – I had seen it before.

  I gaped at her, forgetting the card hovering between us.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ She smiled, revealing sharpened canines that spread into a generous display of white teeth.

  ‘You look …’ I shook my head. ‘You reminded me of someone, is all.’

  All the good cheer she had been exuding evaporated in that moment. Her expression soured and she stepped away from me, still holding the card.

  ‘You insult me,’ she said, dropping her hand.

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘The comparison was implied,’ she said. ‘I know exactly who you mean.’

  I raised my palms in innocence. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you.’

  She held up the card again and this time I snatched it from her.

  ‘Look,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t speak of a Marino and a Falcone in the same sentence. If you learn nothing else, learn that before you walk into Donata’s club. And whatever you do, don’t mention her sister.’

  ‘A club?’ I caressed the glossy card with my fingers, considering the ridiculousness of me parading through some Mafia club in the city amidst a whole other mob family. As if one wasn’t enough. ‘What’s to say I’ll even go?’ I shook my head. ‘I’m not sure I ever want to see my uncle again. He betrayed my mom and me. He doesn’t deserve it,’ I said, surprised at my willingness to confide in someone who had been unashamedly stalking me up until now.

  Sara raised her hand to touch my shoulder but then stopped herself in mid-air, thinking better of it. ‘I understand, you know. It’s difficult being pulled in directions you don’t want to go in. And even more so when it’s your family holding the strings. But it will become clear to you, if you let it.’

  Um, what? Part of me was curious. I couldn’t help it. It was like this festering, buzzing thing in the pit of my stomach. ‘I shouldn’t go,’ I said. ‘It’s not my world.’

  She dropped her voice, even though no one but me could hear her. ‘You will have to see him, Sophie. Better that you go on your own terms.’

  A caution – a whisper of something else. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  She loosed a weary sigh. ‘It means important things are happening and he will need to see you, one way or another, and soon. You should go to him or he’ll come for you, and this place is not safe for anyone right now. Not even me.’

  ‘You make it sound like I don’t have a choice,’ I said, feeling the chill in her words as they settled around me.

  She offered me a half smile. ‘You have the illusion of one, at least. That’s more than I ever had.’ Another failed smile, and then, ‘Please don’t make me do something I don’t want to do …’

  Before I could respond she was marching back towards her car. I stood, speechless, as she sped out of the lot, leaving me wondering about the quiet threat in her final words.

  I studied the card in my hands – it was crimson. In the middle a tree with swirling branches was printed in black ink. Underneath, the word EDEN was written in calligraphy. I flipped it over. There was an address, along with the phrase ‘Lose Yourself’. Scrawled along the top, in my uncle’s handwriting, were three simple words: ‘Sophie. Tuesday 11 p.m.’.

  I shouldn’t go. Jack had already gotten me in enough trouble. But if I didn’t go to him, he would come to me. He would come for me, whatever that meant. And the further I could keep him from Cedar Hill, and my mother, the better.

  Something was going on, and if I had to see him I was damn sure going to try and find out what it was. I was sick of being kept in the dark – so close to the things swirling around me, and still out of reach. Enough was enough. For my father’s sake and my own, there were questions that needed to be answered, and I needed to know what my uncle planned to do next – to Nic, to Luca, to all of them, now that he was being sheltered by the Marinos, now that the truce was crumbling around them. I would accept the illusion of my free will and try, at least, to use it to my advantage in some way. Jack had shown up to protect my life once, maybe he would listen to me about the truce. If he walked away now, before any bloodshed – if he left town – he could prevent a war. And surely no one, not even my crazy, morally unhinged uncle, wanted a war.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE INTERCEPTION

  The thunder of feet against the pavement startled me from my thoughts. I snapped my head up just in time to see Nic racing towards me. I shoved the card into the back pocket of my jeans.

  He skidded to a halt right in front of me. His eyes held a wild, frenzied look. ‘What was that about?’

  Surprise at seeing him was quickly replaced by bitter memories of my fight with Luca, and all the things that were said. Nic shouldn’t be here. And yet he was, and this time it definitely wasn’t for me.

  I folded my arms and looked around him. ‘Hmm? What was what about?’

  Nic frowned in a very obvious I-know-you’re-lying kind of way. ‘I saw you talking to Sara Marino just now …’

  ‘You mean your cousin?’ Their bone structures were identical; she had Nic’s cheekbones and Luca’s mouth.

  Nic levelled me with a dark look, funnily similar to the one Sara had just offered me in similar circumstances. ‘Don’t call her that. She’s scum, just like the rest of them.’

  Family politics can really feel like they’re sapping the marrow from your bones. Especially when somehow you get caught in the middle. I was like a goldfish trying to navigate its way through two opposing schools of sharks. ‘Where did you come from?’ I asked, changing tack.

  He gestured behind him, to the side street by the library across the road. Much more subtle than Dom and Gino’s earlier stake-out point. But then again, they were idiots. ‘Calvino and I were watching the diner.’

  ‘Why?’

  Nic narrowed his eyes. ‘We think there’s something in there,’ he said, cagily. ‘Something your uncle needs.’

  ‘What?’

  Nic clamped his mouth shut and frowned.

  ‘Why are you giving me that dirty look?’ I asked him.

  ‘How long have you known he’s with the Marinos?’

  ‘I’m not getting involved in this,’ I told him sharply. ‘I don’t know anything about anyone.’

  ‘Do you know what this means?’ he said, but I got the impression he wasn’t really asking me. He was asking himself. The implications were huge. They were etched across his face.

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ I said. ‘You don’t know anything for sure. That girl didn’t mention anything about Jack.’ It was a brazen lie, but better than letting the anger escalate, better than fuelling the fire.

  He pulled his hand through his hair, cupping the back of his neck. ‘Do you have to be so difficult?’ he murmured.

  ‘Do you ever take a holiday?’ I countered. ‘Like, do any of you just wake
up and think “Today feels like a pyjama day.”? Or is it always, “Today is a good day for murdering and stalking.”? Seriously, Nic. Seriously.’

  He came closer, until I could feel the heat of his body.

  ‘Seriously,’ he echoed, his voice strained.

  I stared at his chest. I didn’t want to look at his eyes. ‘You are so … frustrating.’

  Nic loosed a loaded breath, and I caught the edge of his smile in a mistaken glance at his face. Don’t look at him. ‘I know that feeling,’ he said, his murmur warming the shell of my ear. I wanted to scream, cry, shove him and then possibly make out with him. Dammit. It felt like my whole body was on fire. It occurred to me that I might be on the verge of having a breakdown in the middle of Gracewell’s parking lot. The stakes felt too high all of a sudden.

  What was he doing here? What the hell was Jack playing at? What was in that diner?

  And where? I knew every inch of that place.

  ‘Sophie, ti prego.’ Nic’s words were a quiet nudge. He curled his arm around me, pulling me into him. I pressed my fingers against his chest, feeling the quick th-thump of his heartbeat. Human, fallible. Scared, I realized. Scared of what was to come. Gently, he pressed his forehead to mine. ‘Everything will be OK,’ he whispered, his heartbeat galloping beneath my fingertips. ‘Just tell me what she said to you.’

  I made the mistake of looking at him. I could smell the faint scent of alpine, almost feel the heady blissfulness of the last time we had kissed. I swallowed. ‘She didn’t say anything.’

  He inhaled sharply. ‘Fine, let’s talk about something else, then.’

  ‘Like what?’

  His eyes were trained on my lips. His hand moved to the small of my back, the other cupped the back of my neck, pulling me into him. ‘This,’ he said gruffly.

  He pressed his lips against mine, hard and searching. I shivered against him as his kiss grew stronger and more urgent. No. I made myself think. I made myself remember. He dragged his hand down my back, brushing his fingers along the waistband of my jeans. No. I pulled my lips from his just as he slipped his hand into my back pocket. I pushed against him, but it was too late; he was already pulling the card out from where I had tucked it.

  He jumped back from me as I lashed out at him. He jerked his head and my fingers caught his chin. Quick, but not quick enough. His hand flew to his jaw.

  His eyes went wide. ‘Sophie.’

  ‘How could you?’ I gasped.

  ‘I’m protecting you.’ He shook the alarm from his face and flipped the card over, his dark eyes slitting as he read Jack’s handwritten message to me. ‘I had to do it.’

  I glared at him.

  ‘You weren’t going to give it to me,’ he said.

  ‘It was mine! I didn’t have to!’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re dealing with here, Sophie.’

  I had to curl my fingernails into my palms to keep from trying to slap him again. ‘In that one kiss, you just cheapened everything we ever had.’

  Alarm spread across his face. He stepped into our bubble again, his hands reaching out for mine. ‘I didn’t cheapen it. I did it to look out for you.’

  I backed away from him. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  ‘You can’t go see your uncle, Sophie. I don’t care if you’re mad at me, but you can’t go into that club. That’s Black Hand territory. It’s not safe for you there.’

  I gestured around me as I walked away. ‘It’s not safe for me anywhere!’

  He matched my quickened pace easily. ‘Listen to me. Donata Marino doesn’t care about Jack. The Marinos never associate with anyone outside their family. They’re using him, and if you get sucked into their world, they’ll use you too. I’m asking you – I am begging you – do not go to that club.’

  I didn’t look back at him. ‘It’s none of your business what I choose to do.’

  ‘I’ll make it my business to go in there after you.’

  I turned around. ‘You wouldn’t!’

  He set his jaw. ‘Try me.’

  ‘You can’t manipulate me like that,’ I hissed. But he could and he was. I didn’t want him following me into that club and going head-to-head with my uncle and all his new allies. There would be blood, and it would be on my conscience.

  I started walking again. ‘You were supposed to stay away from me.’

  He followed me. ‘That was before.’

  ‘Before what.’

  ‘Before I knew the Black Hand were involved.’

  My mind was swirling with possibilities. How could I get rid of Nic from this scenario? How could I convince him not to come to that club? He wasn’t going to give up.

  ‘Let’s make a deal, then,’ I said, swivelling. I masked my features and lifted my eyes to his. I made them as wide as I could and nudged at my bottom lip with my teeth.

  He watched me, unblinking.

  I drew in a breath and with all the sincerity I could muster I made my proposition. ‘I won’t go to Eden if you promise not to go to Eden.’

  He looked past me, contemplating. He drummed his fingers against his jaw. ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ I lied.

  ‘OK, then,’ he relented. ‘So do I.’

  As I let myself in, a chair screeched in the kitchen and my mother rushed to meet me in the hallway. Her face was drawn tight.

  My throat seized up. ‘Mom? What’s going on?’

  She held up my pillow in greeting, the bloodied side turned towards me.

  Crap.

  ‘Sophie?’ She padded towards me. ‘What’s happened?’

  The cut on my palm burnt with the memory. The image of my mother crying by herself that night in the kitchen had been seared into my brain – the vision so like the version of my mother approaching me now, searching my face for clues. Guilt bubbled inside me. I blinked once, slowly, banishing the memories.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ I took the pillow from her, held it by a corner and rotated it, forcing nonchalance. ‘I had a nosebleed a couple of nights ago.’ I flicked my gaze across her features, praying the lie would land. ‘The doctor said it would probably happen once or twice, since my nose is still healing. It’s not a big deal.’

  Her eyebrows drew together, creasing her forehead. ‘Why didn’t you wake me when it happened?’

  You weren’t asleep. I shrugged. ‘It was late. I didn’t see the point.’

  ‘The point?’ My mother shook her head. ‘You should have come to me, Sophie. You know you can always come to me.’

  ‘It was just a nosebleed. It had almost stopped by the time I woke up.’

  ‘Still,’ she said. ‘I’m your mother. That’s what I’m here for.’

  I offered her a half smile in the dimness. ‘Please don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Sweetheart,’ she mirrored my smile, her head cocked lightly to one side, ‘it’s a mother’s job to worry.’

  I had to crush an urgent need to hug her. There was something strange in the air, and it was making me feel like I might burst out crying at any moment. She was so small and tired, and yet even now, there was a constant ripple of strength in her. Strength for me. Strength I wanted her to keep for herself.

  Get a grip, Soph.

  ‘I’m fine, Mom.’ There was a short silence. The pillow hung limply at my side. I debated doing an elaborate twirl, and decided that might be overkill. Instead, I lightened my voice. ‘Everything is fine … except of course for this pillow, which, unfortunately, is not. I think it’s time we put it out to pasture.’

  She stared at the pillow, mock-frowning. ‘Poor little guy.’

  I held it up for examination. ‘I’ll miss him.’

  ‘We’ll get you a better one,’ she stage-whispered, pretending to block her mouth with her hand. ‘Bigger and puffier.’

  I drew my eyes wide. ‘Mother,’ I chastised. ‘Have some respect. He can hear you.’

  We laughed, and for a moment it felt real. She followed me into the kitchen, where I threw the pillow in the tra
sh. ‘Sayonara,’ I declared, stuffing it into the can. I turned back to my mother. ‘In the interest of honesty, I feel I should tell you I’ll be stealing a pillow from your room in the next three minutes or so.’

  She smiled even brighter that time. ‘What’s mine is yours.’

  ‘In that case, I might also commandeer that tear-drop necklace with the emerald stone.’

  ‘Except my jewellery, clothes, make-up and everything else I consider valuable,’ she added with a wink. ‘You may, however, help yourself to a small handful of my potpourri.’

  ‘Wow.’ I blew out an exhale. ‘You generous lady.’

  She picked up a mug from the table. The moment felt so wonderfully normal. I wished I could have wrapped myself inside it and forced everything else from my mind, but like all good things, it faded too quickly. I turned to go, and she gripped my arm, squeezing it just above the elbow. She eyed me over the rim of her mug, peppermint on her breath as she said softly, ‘You know you don’t have to pretend, sweetheart. Not with me.’

  We watched each other in silence, the bloodied pillow just a couple of feet away, my father’s absence filling up the space between us.

  ‘Neither do you,’ I said quietly.

  Her gaze turned quizzical but she kept the mug high. ‘I’m not pretending.’

  ‘OK,’ I conceded. ‘If you say so.’

  I left her nursing her tea, staring at something far beyond the kitchen window. Another life, maybe. One before my father, before me, when she was a budding designer in a city far away, with high hopes and big dreams. Not this small town, this stifled life, these blood-red memories pressing down on us.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EDEN

  When I told my mother I was staying the night at Millie’s, she nearly fainted with relief. Every step I took outside our front door was a small victory for her, and an entire night spent with my best friend was music to her ears. In her mind, I was coasting back to normality, and it didn’t matter that I was leaving her behind. She pressed a twenty into my hand, ‘for pizza, ice cream, whatever you girls need. It’s on me.’ I tried to give it back, but she clasped her hands behind her back and shook her head. ‘You deserve to treat yourself!’