Cruel Saints
She draws her bottom lip in between her teeth as she thinks of something to share.
God, I get the feeling I’m going to walk around with a permanent semi.
“I like to read,” she finally gives me something.
“Yeah? What?”
“Fiction.”
“What kind of fiction? Romance?” I tease her.
When her cheeks warm to soft pink, I know I guessed right, and it makes the corner of my mouth lift.
“Yes, romance,” she admits, and then she takes another sip of the water. “Your turn.”
“I don’t have time to read.”
My answer draws a soft chuckle from her, and it sounds musical. “Tell me something else,” she demands.
I like this. It’s the first time we actually get to talk. It’s relaxing.
“I was really close with my father. He was my best friend,” I admit a truth.
Elena’s eyes soften with compassion. “What’s your favorite memory of him?”
I think for a moment. “There are so many.” Placing my arm on the back of the couch, I pinch a strand of her hair between my forefinger and thumb. “Every Sunday, he’d grill steaks for us. We’d sit out on the veranda and talk about the most random things.”
A poignant expression settles on her features. “That sounds so nice.”
“You’re not close with your father?” I ask, even though she’s told me before, she means nothing to him.
Elena shakes her head.
“Is there a reason?” I tilt my head, keeping my expression calm because I want her to open up to me.
Elena glances down at the glass in her hand, and a long moment passes before she replies, “He just never loved me.”
“Your mother?”
Elena shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about her.”
Slowly, I nod, absorbing the information. Pushing my luck, I say, “Tell me what your life was like.”
She swallows hard and then takes a deep breath. “It was nothing like yours.”
I let go of the strand between my fingers and place my hand against the side of her neck. When her eyes lift to mine, I lean closer. “Tell me, little bird.” To encourage her, I add, “Give me something I can use against Dante.”
Instantly she lifts her chin, and fight sparks to life in her eyes. She takes another deep breath. “You know he beat me.”
Lying through my teeth, I say, “I only know what I saw, and that’s not enough to kill him.”
Her eyes dart away from me, and her features tighten. “What will be enough?”
“Give me the worst thing he’s done.”
Let me carry it for you, little bird. Open up to me.
“You’ll kill him for it?” she asks, still hesitating.
“Yes,” I promise. He’s already a dead man walking, but she doesn’t need to know that.
The longer it takes Elena to tell me, the tenser the air grows.
Christ if he raped her… I don’t have a taste for torture, but for Capone, I’ll make an exception.
Chapter 15
LUCIAN
A torturous minute passes without Elena saying anything, and needing a drink, I get up. I walk to the side table and pour us each a tumbler of bourbon.
When I sit down again, I hold the glass out to her. “It’s better than water. It will help.”
Elena sets the water down on the coffee table and takes the tumbler from me. She sniffs at the drink before taking a sip, and then her face lights up with heat. “God, what is this?”
“Bourbon.” I settle back into the couch, and savoring the whiskey, I wait to see if she’s going to talk.
I watch as her mind drifts off. She takes another sip, and then her shoulders hunch as if she’s trying to make herself smaller.
“Promise you’ll kill him.” Her tone has changed. It’s hollow, all the warmth gone.
My muscles tighten, and the words flow easily from my lips. “I promise.”
The same expression she had on her face when we met flutters across her features as if she’s tearing a secret from her soul.
My heart begins to beat faster, and then her lips part. There’s no emotion in her voice as she says, “Dante killed a friend of mine. The only friend I ever had.”
It’s not what I expected to hear from her, but I sit still and listen.
“I used to sneak out of the house to meet Alfonso in the stables. Dante caught us together.” She pauses to take another sip, and it reminds me of my own drink.
As I bring the tumbler to my lips, Elena says, “Alfonso was held at gunpoint while Dante forced me… to go down on him.” She takes a moment to breathe, a sickening look on her face. “He killed Alfonso anyway.”
I lower the drink, not sure I heard right. I stare at Elena until the words sink in like burning coals.
The motherfucker.
My breathing begins to speed up as rage floods my veins, and unable to sit still, I get up. I down half my drink as I walk toward the windows before turning back to Elena.