Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

I typed ‘I need your help, Fabiano. Please.’ into my mobile and pressed ‘send’.

“Today is going to bring us millions,” Nino said.

I tore my gaze away from the TV screen showing the warm-up race. Nino was staring down at the iPad in his lap.

Remo shook his head at his brother, annoyed. “Watch the race for fuck’s sake. We have a bookie for the numbers. Enjoy yourself for once. Stop acting like a fucking math nerd.”

Nino shrugged. “I don’t trust our bookies to do a better job than I. Why settle for a lesser option?”

Savio snorted. “You are so fucking full of yourself.”

If Nino wasn’t Remo’s brother, he would have studied math or some shit like that. He was a genius, which made him twice as lethal.

Remo slid his knife out of the holder across his chest, then threw it with a flick of his wrist. The sharp blade pierced the soft brown leather beside Nino’s left thigh. Nino glanced up from the iPad, then down at the knife protruding from the sofa. “Good thing the races bring us so much money if you keep destroying our furniture,” he drawled.

Remo waved him off.

Nino put the iPad down on the table beside him, then pulled out the knife. He began twisting it between his fingers.

“So how’s it going with your waitress?” Remo asked. “Not bored of her yet?”

I shrugged. “She’s entertaining enough.”

Nino’s assertive eyes regarded me above his play with the knife. I wasn’t sure what exactly his twisted brain had gathered from the one time he’d seen me with Leona. He didn’t understand emotions. That was my salvation.

“Good fuck?” Savio asked, grinning.

I wasn’t happy about the turn our conversation had taken.

“What the fuck,” Savio exclaimed, pointing at the TV. “Adamo is driving one of the race cars.”

We all turned to the screen. Adamo was overtaking two cars at once; their drivers hadn’t seen him shooting up behind them. “Good driving skills for a thirteen-year old,” I said.

Remo scowled. “One of these days I’m going to kill him, brother or not.”

My mobile vibrated in my jeans pocket. I took it out, then glanced at the screen. Leona.

I need your help, Fabiano. Please.

Feeling Remo’s eyes on me, I slid the mobile back into my pocket.

“Your waitress,” he said.

I crossed my arms behind my head. “She can wait.”

“Why would you waste your day with us if you can have a nice fuck?” Savio asked, then stood. “Actually, why didn’t you organize some kind of entertainment, Remo?”

Remo reached for his mobile. “Obviously the family time is over.” Then he laughed at his own joke before his eyes slid over to me. “Go to her. Then we won’t have to share the girls with you.”

I got up with a shrug, as if I couldn’t care less if I left or stayed, but my mind was reeling. What was going on? Leona sounded desperate.

“Don’t overexert yourself with that girl of yours,” Remo said with a shark-smile. “It wouldn’t look good if my Enforcer lost a fight.”

I rolled my eyes. My next fight was in six days on New Year’s Eve. “Don’t worry.”

The streets were deserted as I drove to Leona. People were celebrating Christmas with their families. I caught the occasional glimpse through windows where people exchanged presents or shared a family meal. I knew most of it was a façade. My family had always made a big show out of celebrating Christmas together as well, but behind closed doors we had been as far from the happy family as you could get. Our father had always made sure that we were miserable.

Last night was the first Christmas Eve I’d enjoyed in a long time. Because of Leona. My hands clenched. I shouldn’t have given her the bracelet. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me.

Nothing. I wanted to get rid of the fucking thing. That was all. And why not give it to Leona?

I parked in Leona’s street and got out of the car. I hadn’t bothered texting her.

I rang the bell, and moments later Leona opened the door, looking surprised and relieved. Her eyes were red from crying. I chose not to comment. Consoling others wasn’t my forte and I had a feeling she preferred me ignoring her emotionality.

Behind her I saw the small apartment she and her father shared, with the worn-off carpet and the smoke-yellowed wallpaper. She followed my gaze and flushed. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said quietly.

“I am here.”

She nodded slowly, then opened the door wide. “Do you want to come in?”

The apartment was a far cry from being inviting but I stepped inside. Leona closed the door and then her arms were around my waist in a tight grip and she shuddered. I hesitated, then raised my hand to her head and touched her lightly. “Leona, what’s going on?” Had someone hurt her? When could that have happened? I’d brought her home around four in the morning. It was only twelve now.