Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

Worry twisted my stomach. What if something had gone wrong? What if someone had seen us and alerted Remo?

I felt dizzy with anxiety as I sank down on the bed. My eyes stayed on the clock on the nightstand, watching one minute after the other pass, and wondering why I needed Fabiano to return safely to me.

Betrayal.

I broke Omertà by killing a fellow Camorrista.

For Leona.

I considered my options as I stared down at Soto’s body. I could, of course, make him disappear. Nobody would miss him, least of all his cowering wife. But Remo might be reluctant to believe that Soto deserted. After all, the man had been loyal.

“Damn it,” I muttered. Loyalty.

Loyalty to the Camorra and to Remo, that’s what I’d sworn. An oath that meant everything to me, but protecting Leona made keeping my oath impossible.

Remo didn’t give a fuck about Soto or that I’d killed him, but he would care about me going around killing Made Men without his direct orders.

And then there was Boulder’s miserable fight tonight. It was a big possibility that Remo got suspicious about that as well. God, Leona. Why did she have to bet money? Why did she have to meddle with things she had no clue about?

Because I’d backed her in a corner and cornered dogs tried to bite. Fuck!

I could try to blame Boulder’s failure on Soto. Tell Remo he had drugged the man and that I had killed him because of it. But Soto had no interest in changing the outcome of the fight. He hadn’t placed a bet, no Camorrista ever did if they knew what was good for them. But Leona had, and Griffin would tell Remo if he asked. I grabbed Soto and dragged him toward my car. The parking lot was deserted but if I wasted more time standing around and looking for a solution to the mess I was in, that might eventually change. I put Soto’s body in my trunk, and drove off, out of the city and into the desert. I had a shovel in my trunk, next to the spare tire.

When I found a promising spot, I parked the car, took the shovel from the trunk and shoved it violently into the dry ground. It would take me hours to dig deep enough to hide the body. And all the hard work might be for nothing in the end.

I was covered in dirt and sweat when I finally unlocked my apartment with my second key. It was quiet inside. I closed the door and headed for the liquor cabinet. I didn’t bother with a glass, instead I took a long swig of whiskey from the bottle. The burn of the alcohol cleared the fog of exhaustion.

Leona appeared at the top of the stairs, backlit by the soft glow from the bedroom. She was dressed in one of my shirts. She looked small in it. Vulnerable.

“Fabiano? Is that you?” she asked hesitantly. I took another swig.

I set the bottle down on the counter and moved toward the stairs, then took them one after the other. Leona’s eyes took in my rumpled appearance. “I was worried,” she said as I stopped two steps below her, bringing us on eye-level.

“It takes a while to bury a body in dry desert soil,” I said, my voice raspy from the whisky.

She nodded as if she knew what I was talking about. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” I ground out.

Her mouth parted. “You are?”

“For making you think you had no choice but to do something that foolish, for making you think you couldn’t come to me to ask for help. Not for killing your father. I would do it again if it meant protecting you.”

She averted her gaze, chest heaving. “You look like you could use a shower.”

I smiled wryly. “I could use a lot of things right now.”

She tilted her head toward me, searched my eyes, but didn’t say anything. I walked past her into the bedroom and continued into the bathroom. I got out of my clothes. They were covered in dust and Soto’s blood. I’d have to burn them tomorrow. Not that it would matter. I stepped into the shower. Leona stood in the doorway, watching me. I kept my eyes on her as hot water rained down on me. I liked the sight of her in my shirt. I would have preferred her naked.

Tonight everything had changed. I had made a choice, and I had chosen Leona. Over the Camorra, over Remo.

What had happened in the basement – that was something Remo had been able to overlook, but today, me killing one of his men to protect a woman?

No. That was something he’d never forgive, nor comprehend. He wasn’t the forgiving type. I wouldn’t forgive me if I were him.

I shut the water off. Leona picked up a towel and handed it to me. Her eyes moved down my body, then back up to my face. I wanted her. I wanted, I needed some small sign that I had chosen right. Fuck.