Inked By The Mafia Man

Were my parents working with Conor’s father? My parents helped murder Luca’s mom and dad?

I can’t fight the tears in my eyes, stinging with more bite than the tattoo on my ankle.

The liar’s tattoo.

There’s no escape.

Only another prison.

CHAPTER

NINE

Luca

The words hurt to speak.

I have to force them out, drag them past all the want, need, and desire to always protect her. I have to close off certain parts of my mind and soul, angrily warning myself not to let the truth slip.

The truth was that I’d never hurt Lena. I’d never even think about it.

I exist to keep her safe.

But Conor can’t know that.

“What?” he snaps, trying his blustery tough-guy routine again. “Why haven’t I heard about this? Surely I would’ve known.”

“My father told me,” I lie. “Before he….”

I trail off, unwilling to venture into that territory.

I got my vengeance on Conor’s father, a bullet right between the eyes. And even if it haunts my nights sometimes, I know it was the right choice.

Conor’s father didn’t just order my parents’ death. He did it himself. He bragged about it, as well as countless other evils.

“He didn’t want me to go down this road, to take my revenge on an innocent girl, as he called her. But I’m done playing that game. She deserves her punishment….”

I swallow, my throat hurting with all these liar’s words. I know I have to say the next bit. I have to sell this to make Conor believe I truly believe all this crap I’m dishing out.

“The same as her parents,” I finish.

The only consolation I have is that Lena will never know I’ve said this. She’ll never know the vicious lies I told to free her from this madman.

Conor’s looking at me in a way that makes me want to punch him across the face. It’s like he’s admiring me, steeled eyes, lips curved into a grin.

It turns out Patton was right. It’s like Conor’s relieved I’m finally down in the muck with him.

“Hmm,” he says after a pause. “So you’re going to… what? What are your plans, exactly?”

“I’m going to buy her from you,” I snap.

“No, I mean, after?” He licks his lips, looking even more deranged than usual. “When you’ve got her all to yourself, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make her pay,” I snarl, the anger coming from the need to spit these untruths.

It’s a betrayal, even if none of it, not a single world, bears any resemblance to reality.

“How?” Conor asks.

I slam my hand on the table.

Patton gasps from beside me, letting me know the anger is a mistake.

But I can’t help it.

All this talk of hurting my woman makes me want to turn feral, flip the table and snap Conor’s neck, leap on his second-in-command, and brutally ravage him until there’s nothing left.

Quickly thinking, I growl, “I’m going to make it last a long time. I’m going to make her wish she was…. But really, Conor, none of this is your concern. Once she’s mine, I’m free to do whatever I like with her. So let’s talk price.”

I need to hurry past this bit. I can’t linger here, saying all these agonizing things.

“Price,” Conor mutters, his smile turning vicious. “I don’t think I want or need to do that.”

“What?” Patton snaps. “That’s the whole reason we’re here.”

“Yes, and I’ve heard you out,” Conor replies. “I’ve given it some consideration. And my answer is no.”

I sit back, struggling to contain the volcano rumbling inside of me. Every instinct I possess is telling me to throw myself at him, tackle him to the floor and make him pay.

I said all that hellish shit for nothing.

“You haven’t heard our opening offer yet,” Patton says.

“I don’t need to.” Conor stands, his second-in-command rising with him. “I have to say, Luca, I didn’t think you had this in you. And I agree. That girl deserves a lot, simply because of her last name. The Bonetti's made our lives miserable in the second war. Her parents deserved everything they got. Did I ever tell you I pulled the trigger myself?”

I grit my teeth, leaping to my feet before I have a chance to think.

“Just like I pulled the trigger, then,” I growl.

Conor’s face floods red, his hand going to his hip as though for his gun. When he remembers it’s not there, he waves his hand.

“That’s fucking fighting talk,” he roars, his voice booming around the room. “You don’t get to rub that in my face. Never. Fucking never. Those were the terms when we made our peace.”

“Relax,” Patton says quickly. “He wasn’t talking about your father. Were you, Luca?”

I stare Conor right in the eyes, letting him see the barely contained hellfire there and see how close I am to pulling the trigger again.

Patton walks up next to me, nudging me with his shoulder.