I swallowed the thickness in my throat; it felt like I’d swallowed a golf ball and was trying to cough it back up. “I’m not sure.”
Sighing, he reached out and touched my cheek, then jerked back as if he couldn’t believe he’d just touched me. Abruptly, he stood and turned his back to me.
It was a nice back.
Muscular in all the right places.
I just bet that shirt had a hard time staying on.
I had a sudden image of him ripping it over his head then mentally scolded myself. He was the enemy, he was the reason something had happened — was happening — tonight. Everything in me screamed danger.
And yet, I was stripping him in my head.
Yeah, I was losing my mind.
“I used to believe it.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The lie, the one that says all you need is a good night’s sleep, and things will look better in the morning, feel better, be better.” He hung his head. “Now I know the truth.”
I swallowed. “And what’s that?”
He turned, just enough for me to see his striking profile, the tick in his jaw as he clenched his teeth into an almost grimace. “Regardless of what surrounds you, the blanket of darkness at night, or the warmth of the sun during the day, circumstances remain. Sadness… remains, anger… remains. Sleep promises rest — I haven’t rested in a very long time.”
I leaned forward. “If the next word out of your mouth is that you’re a five thousand year old vampire, I’m probably going to jump out my window.”
His lips broke into a tense smile. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m human. So very human.” He frowned as if the thought actually upset him. “I bleed just like everyone else.”
“Clearly.” I pointed to his knuckles. “Sergio?”
He crossed his arms and faced me again. “Val?”
“Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about who I am, worry about what I’m not.”
“A vampire?”
“That.” He grabbed the blanket from the foot of my bed and placed it over me. “And… I’m not your friend, Val.”
The comment stung.
The golf ball in the back of my throat swelled, stretched wide and spread down my chest as I fought for a breath that didn’t hurt.
“Okay.” I finally squeezed out, my voice weak. “No false hope and all that?”
“I don’t do hope,” he snapped, and then he whispered under his breath. “Not anymore.”
He walked with a jerking gait over to the door and left, shutting it behind him, leaving me to wonder… if he wasn’t my friend…
Did that make him my foe?
A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
I’D BEEN FIELDING texts and calls from the crew back in Chicago all night. Tex was losing his shit. He even went as far as to ask if Frank shot my sorry ass. I replied with a middle finger emoji and moved on.
Nixon was next.
Followed by Chase.
Even Phoenix decided it would be in his best interest to play therapist. God help us all if the darkest mob boss out of all of them, the one with the most secrets, the worst past, started sending me motivational texts about teamwork.
Actually, it was more along the lines of, keep your head out of your ass, you can’t see the sunshine when you’re poking your head where it doesn’t belong.
I didn’t have the energy to respond. Not after dealing with all the Alferos, damn it. A little warning from Frank would have been nice. Then again, that wasn’t really Frank’s style.
He was more of a toss the person into the snake pit and, if he lives, give him a promotion sort of guy.
My neck hurt, my knuckles were scabbed over with a mixture of blood and torn skin.
And the night was young.
We’d left the Alfero house with plans to have a meeting the following day, which was good, all things considered.
They wanted to talk that evening.
But I knew the last thing the innocent girl sleeping upstairs needed was to wake up and truly see her entire existence altered. Granted, you couldn’t run from reality, from your truth — if you could, I’d have done it.
God knows, I’d tried.
The truth would find her soon enough — and the happy girl who offered easy smiles and doted on her uncles like they were senile retirement home members, would be gone.
Replaced by the harsh reality that only the mafia brings.
Death.
Blood.
Destruction.
Repeat.
“Don’t be gone long,” Frank said once the car stopped near Times Square.
“Aw, you gonna miss me, old man?” I tried joking, even though my voice was gravelly, foreign. The night had taken its toll already.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Try to stay alive.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He snorted as I slammed the door to the Mercedes and leisurely walked toward Broadway.
Blood roared in my ears as I hit Broadway and looked at all the signs proclaiming a variety of shows.