Twisted Bonds (The Camorra Chronicles 4)

Kiara’s brows crinkled. “That’s a bit extreme.”

“I won’t have anyone cause you pain.”

She stared at me. “I want that tattoo. It’s my choice. I’ll gladly take the pain.”

“Let me think of a design, something beautiful,” I said quietly.

She stood on her tiptoes. “As long as it’s not a bull.”

My lips twitched. “That wasn’t my idea.”

Kiara sat down across from me and stretched out her arm. I disinfected the skin of her forearm, still reluctant to ink her. I knew the tattoo would look beautiful on her but the process would be more than a little unpleasant. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” she said.

I took out the prepared design of the tattoo. Kiara’s eyes widened seeing it as I pressed the stencil to her skin to transfer it. With delicate tattoos it was always best not to tattoo without a stencil as guidance.

“A rose?”

“A red rose with thorns.”

“Why?”

“A rose representing your beauty, red because I love the color on you, and thorns because even the prettiest rose should have them. You didn’t in the beginning, but they grew back.”

Kiara bit her lower lip then broke into a smile. “That’s beautiful. But what about your name?”

I frowned. For some reason it felt sacrilegious to put my name on Kiara’s perfect skin, even if a possessive part of me was immensely pleased at the thought. “I could add it in one of the petals or very small along the stem.”

“No,” Kiara said firmly. “Let your name flow out of the stem. Because it was you who helped me grow those thorns, to bloom at all. You were the soil.”

I nodded, not saying anything, my tongue suddenly heavy in my mouth. Focusing on the task at hand, I transferred the design from the stencil to Kiara’s skin then carefully added my name in cursive. Once I was done, I reached for the machine. “Because it’s intricate and multi-colored, it’ll take longer. I can’t rush or it won’t be as beautiful as it needs to be.”

“I understand. Take your time.”

I’d never been nervous before doing a tattoo. This time I was. Taking a deep breath, I put the needle to Kiara’s skin. She sucked in a quick breath and tensed. I briefly glanced up, gauging her face.

“Do it.”

I continued, checking Kiara occasionally. Her eyes watered and my chest tightened at the sight.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Never before had causing someone pain bothered me. I focused on the tattoo, on the task. The pain would have to be worth it. This had to be my best work. Kiara deserved nothing less.

When I was done, I put down the machine and allowed myself to admire my work for a second. The rose was delicately beautiful, every petal, every thorn spoke of elegance.

“Oh, Nino,” Kiara said in wonder. “It’s so beautiful. I can’t believe how real it looks, how vivid the colors are. Thank you.”

“Thank you for bearing my name on your skin for the world to see.” I had enough self-awareness to know how most people perceived me. They were scared of me, not just because of the Camorra, or because I was a Falcone but because of what I was. Kiara managed to see more in me, parts of me I hadn’t been aware of before she came into my life.

Kiara leaned forward and kissed me.

“How’s the pain?” I murmured, even when there were so many other things I wanted to say right then.

“Worth it,” she said.

In early August we allowed Adamo more freedom, but still kept an eye on him. He didn’t show signs of withdrawal anymore, but things could fall apart quickly, so one of us always stayed in his proximity, even if it annoyed him.

“When will you stop hovering?” he asked during our sparring in the gym one day. “My birthday is soon. I don’t want babysitters around when I go over to C.J.”

“We’ll see,” I said and landed a kick against his side, exploiting his bad defense.

He grunted and jumped back. “I did everything you asked of me.”

“I know, that’s why we’ve gone easy on you recently.”

Adamo gave me a doubtful look. I landed another hit, this time a fist to the ribs. He stumbled back, rubbing the spot.

“You need to improve. Doing drugs shredded your focus and your stamina.”

Remo walked in, not in fighting shorts but dressed in his usual black jeans and t-shirt. I paused. Adamo tried to use my distraction but he really needed to get quicker to succeed. I kicked his legs out from under him and shoved him to the floor. He landed hard, and cursed.

“What’s the matter?” I asked when Remo stopped in front of the boxing ring.

“Jerry called. One of the Johns thought he could beat the shit out of one of our girls.”

Usually our bouncers, Fabiano or one of the lower enforcers handled these kinds of things. “Who?”