Cap: We need to meet. Tonight.

  Mal: I knew you couldn’t help yourself. Dreaming of my fingers deep between those legs.

  Cap: We just need to talk.

  Mal: Right. Talk.

  Cap: I’m serious.

  Mal: Is that safe? You’re risking a lot. I know I’m incredible, but I’d rather you stayed alive.

  Cap: We really need to talk. Please? Can you pick me up?

  Mal: Where and when?

  Cap: A block further away than last night. Two in the morning. Wait at least an hour if I’m not down right away.

  Mal: I can do that. I don’t sleep these days.

  Cap: I don’t either. You too busy dreaming about me?

  Mal: Filthy, explicit dreams.

  Cap: Tell me all about it.

  Cap: Actually, please don’t. We’ll talk tonight, okay?

  Mal: All right. I’ll see you tonight.

  I sat back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

  He was going to hate me. There was no doubt in my mind. He’d hate me, and this stupid, butterfly-stomach feeling I had all the time would go away, because I’d lose him. The first man that ever made me happy. The first man to touch me, get me off, fuck me. The first man to want me more than anything else in the world, because when he looked at me, he stared like I was the most special woman he’d ever seen.

  And I was going to throw it away.

  All because I couldn’t live a lie.

  Chapter 24

  Mal

  I parked the Chevy three blocks from the Balestra house and waited. It was ten until two and the night was quiet. Big, full moon. Cool, but not cold. The Chevy’s engine purred. I ran my hands down the steering wheel and thought about Cap. Her body on top of mine. Breasts in my hands. Hips rolling back and forth. The sheer, unbearable desire I felt every second of my life, thinking about her.

  Would things be easier if I didn’t want her so badly? If there wasn’t some impossible, electric connection simmering between us?

  Fucking right they would be.

  But I’d be empty. I’d be a shell of a man murdering for his dead friend. And afterward, once the list was finished, I’d be nothing at all.

  Cap gave me hope. She gave me a reason to live. If I could have her—if I could feel this for her—I could be a person again. There was a way back from this black pit of darkness that I’d fallen into without Carmine, and Cap was the light. She was my future.

  That wasn’t fair. Pinning so much on the girl. But it was the truth.

  Cap was the only thing keeping me going. I breathed for her now.

  I killed for Carmine—but I lived for Cap.

  She showed up around two-fifteen. Walked toward the Chevy looking like a goddess. Hair down, dressed all in black. She climbed into the passenger side and I nodded at her. She looked exhausted as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “There’s a playground nearby,” she said. “Let’s go sit on the swings.”

  She didn’t smile at me. I shrugged and drove. Found the playground nearby and parked. We got out and walked over. The swings were old and metal and cold.

  She swung back and forth slowly. I sat and didn’t move.

  “I’m worried about you,” I said as she moved. Her hair swayed in the moonlight. She was beautiful and I wanted to touch her, but something about her posture kept me back. I was worried I’d go too far and scare her off. Last night happened suddenly, and it’d been intense. By far the most intense sex of my life with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was afraid I’d lose it if I spooked her.

  “Don’t be.” She wouldn’t look over. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “Something I did. Something you need to know about.”

  I felt a stillness. Like that sudden calm right before a fight.

  “Go ahead. Tell me.”

  She still wouldn’t look. Just kept swinging. Swaying forward and back. Not going far, but moving. Like she was too restless to stay still.

  “When Carmine was alive, we had this sort of unspoken agreement. He wanted me to feel comfortable with his family, so I went to his place as often as I could. I’d spent time with his mom. Talked to his dad. How well did you know Placido and Blaca?”

  “They were good people. Blaca was one hell of a cook. Smartest person I’d ever met too. Placido, I respected him like a father.”

  “That was my impression too. I loved them, Mal. They made me feel so welcome. It was warm in their house, you know? So warm and so different from my own life.”

  “Your father,” I said quietly, and my rage simmered just beneath the surface.

  “He’s always been a bastard.” Her face was tense as she stared out over the playground. Still not looking at me. I wanted her to look at me so bad. But it was like she’d put up a shield, and it’d break if we made eye contact.

  “I remember. I knew it the second we first met.”

  “You’re one of the first people that noticed immediately. It took Carmine months to figure it out. I thought I was good at hiding.”

  “I know abuse.” I didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. She understood about my parents. They weren’t good people. They didn’t hurt me like her father hurt her, but my parents didn’t make my life easy. When I went to live with Gran, things got a lot better, but I never lost that sixth sense for smelling out rotten home lives. I smelled it on Capri the second we met.

  “Carmine wanted me to feel at home with his parents. So one afternoon before my dad picked me up, he told me something. He whispered it in my ear and grabbed my hand and made me pinky-promise not to tell anyone.”

  I smiled. I remembered making pinky-promises with Carmine. “What was it?”

  “The code to the back gate.”

  My smile drifted away. I knew the one she meant. That gate was for deliveries and was only ever opened by a guard. It was a big thing, covered the back door to the compound. They kept it locked at all times. Carmine never gave that code to me, although I never asked for it. I spent a lot of time with him and his folks, but I was never a part of their family. It was never like that.

  I felt a strange pang of jealousy. But Carmine was dead and Capri was supposed to marry him. I couldn’t hold the past against her. Not now, when the future was so tenuous.

  “Why are you telling me this, Cap?”

  She stopped swinging. Took a deep breath. “I made a mistake. I think it’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and I’ve been killing myself inside about it for a while now. I’m so sorry, Mal. I wish I’d told you sooner, but I’ve been so afraid.” She turned to me. Tears in her eyes. I shifted closer to her. I reached out to try to comfort her, but she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

  “What happened? Cap, what happened?”

  “I wrote the code in my diary. Six, four, eight, five. I can tell you now, since it doesn’t matter anymore. I wrote it down because I was afraid I’d forget it. I thought my diary was hidden. But it wasn’t hidden good enough.”

  A slow, creeping horror fell over me. “Who found it?”

  “I didn’t know until recently.” She blinked a few times. More tears spilled over. “But my dad found it. I don’t know how, but he found it, and he used that code to get through the back. That’s how he surprised Falsone. That’s how he broke into the compound in the middle of the night without alerting any guards or setting off any alarms. He used the code I wrote down, and he killed Carmine, and Placido, and Blaca. They’re all dead because of me, Mal. Because I wrote it down and let my dad find it. They’re dead because of me.”

  She sobbed hard. I stared at her in shock, trying to take it in. Dead because of her? Because of some code? I stood up, pacing, shaking my head.

  She shouldn’t have written it down. She shouldn’t have. That was a mistake. But the whole thing? Her fault? It didn’t make any sense. She’d been carrying this the whole time on her shoulders and only now was it spilling out. She sobbed, broken, red-eyed and grieving so hard, it racked her body. I stepped closer, reaching out my hands.

  I was angry. So fucking angry. Rage filled me like a poison and it threatened to starve my heart of oxygen. I’d drown in this anger if I let myself. I’d burn the world to ashes first then I’d drown in it. Nothing could bring me back and I hated it, hated myself, hated everything that drove me into this rage. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  But I wasn’t angry with Cap. I knew it, deep in my gut. I wasn’t angry with her at all.

  I was mad at myself.

  So damn mad at myself for not being there. So mad for failing Carmine when he needed me the most. Prison be damned. I was so mad.

  Worst of all, I hated that I let any of this stop me from having what I wanted.

  Carmine was gone. He was dead, and yet we both used his ghost and his memory to stay away from each other. To hold back, when neither of us wanted to hold back. I’d wanted her for a long, long time, and now we were so close.

  But memory kept us apart.

  It was stupid and wrong. I was so damn mad, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me anymore.

  This was Cap. My Cap. I couldn’t let her cry and hold this on her shoulders. She didn’t need this burden. She didn’t deserve it.

  “Cap,” I said, stepping toward her, but she jumped to her feet.

  “Don’t,” she said, glaring at me. “Don’t, Mal. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Wait,” I said, reaching out. I wanted to hold her. Needed to pull her close and explain how it wasn’t her fault.

  But she shook her head wildly.

  “I got Carmine killed. Don’t you get it? My dad even changed the pin code to the safe in his office to those four numbers. He did it to taunt me. He bragged about it to the Russians. I got Carmine killed, Mal. You should hate me. You should despise me. You should hit me like all the others do.”

  I stared at her, mouth hanging open. “The safe in his office? What did you do?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, tears spilling down. “I’m worthless. Don’t you get it? Why can’t you hate me? I got Carmine killed. I got him killed, Mal. I don’t deserve this.”

  “No, you didn’t. You didn’t get him killed. Cap—”

  She shook her head, not listening. She stumbled away and I chased after her, trying to find the words to make her listen.

  “I did it. I did it and I’m not letting you absolve me just because we fucked. Don’t you get it? We’re sick and stupid. We fucked and that was wrong, and all you want is more. But I killed him, killed them all, and I don’t deserve this.”

  “Cap, wait.”

  She hurried off the playground and onto the sidewalk. Jogged past the Chevy. Ran across the street. I followed at a distance, numb.

  “Fuck off, Mal. Get away from me.” Her voice was loud. Shrill. Borderline screaming.

  “You didn’t do it. Cap, your dad, he was planning that for months. Years even. He would’ve done it no matter what.”

  “I don’t want your excuses,” she hissed and ripped her hand away when I tried to grab her. “Leave me alone. You heard the truth. Now get away. Why are you still here? Get away from me.”

  “Cap,” I said, shaking my head. “Please. Talk to me.”

  “If you touch me, I’ll scream. Just leave me alone, Mal. You got what you wanted, now leave me alone.”

  She turned and ran. I stared and took a few steps after, but saw a neighbor standing on a porch nearby. We weren’t far from her house. She could get home without a problem. But cops would be bad. Very bad for both of us. She might not be able to sneak home and then what?

  I didn’t know what to do. If I chased her, I might get her killed. But if I didn’t, she’d keep on thinking she was to blame for Carmine’s death.

  I stayed where I was. She had to survive. That was all I cared about. Tomorrow I’d text her and explain why she was wrong—why she didn’t have to blame herself.

  I’d tell her everything. How I felt. How I was done letting a ghost keep me away from her. No more shame. No more guilt. I wanted her, and I’d have her, because I knew she felt the same way.

  I’d explain it all. We’d be okay.

  We’d have to be okay.

  Chapter 25

  Mal

  She didn’t respond.

  I texted. Sent her a book worth of texts. The most I’d ever sent. My damn thumbs ached by the time the sun set. She didn’t respond. It drove me wild. I needed to know she was safe, but I had no way to get to her. I could lurk outside the Balestra house, but that was a risk. They were looking for me, and they might recognize the Chevy if I got too close.

  I was a fucking wreck. Sweating, shaking. Stressed beyond a reasonable measure. When night came and she still hadn’t replied, I called. The phone went right to voicemail.

  “Cap, it’s me. Listen, please, let me know you’re okay. I’m really worried about you. Just tell me you’re okay. You can ignore all the other shit if you want. But I meant all of it. Just tell me you’re okay.”

  I hung up. Thought about calling again. Cursed, threw the phone against the wall, then grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket.

  Only one thing would keep me from losing my mind.

  I hit the road. The Chevy hummed along. My brain was in a real bad place. I wanted to break down the Balestra front door and find Cap. Make sure she was alive and breathing. Make sure she wasn’t beating herself to hell for nothing.

  That was suicide. Instead, I drove west. Went out to Heritage. Nice little neighborhood. Upper middle class. No fences, no weeds. More grass on the ground. Two-car garages. Quiet and comfortable.

  There were lots of old gas stations around San Antonio. Fewer than you’d guess, but still a few. I knew most of them. I worked some myself. And I knew the one Clem would’ve been using.

  Falsone picked it up a few years into my tenure. He showed it to me and Carmine one shining afternoon. I’d always remember that. Driving through Heritage in a big Range Rover was the height of luxury. My gran lived in a shitty little house in a bad part of town and I’d never imagine living somewhere decent. So being with Falsone, being seen by all those happy little families, it meant something to me.

  It used to be a Lukoil Station. Falsone moved stolen stereos out the back. I bet a lot of those stereos ended up in the houses nearby. Nice, happy families and their boosted audio equipment. Too cheap to buy new, even if they could afford it. I rolled the Chevy past the empty building and it looked like it did the day I first saw it.

  Definitely in use.

  There were no outward signs. Nothing obvious like a car in the parking lot. But there were small things.

  No weeds in the cracks. The lawn looked cut. Door was on its hinges. Windows were boarded up. But no graffiti. No broken lights.

  Someone took care of the property. It wasn’t just rotting.

  I drove past and went around. I took another look before parking in front of a quiet house with a nice, big tree in the front. I checked my phone. Nothing from Cap.

  I got out and walked.

  I was breathing hard. Not nervous. Just angry. Upset that I’d let Cap get away. I should’ve grabbed her and dragged her back to the truck and kept her until she calmed down. I was afraid of the neighbors though. Afraid of the cops looking for us, thinking I’d kidnapped her. It was stupid in retrospect. It was the wrong decision. But at the time, it felt right. At the time, I thought I could make things right. Let her calm down and get herself together, then we’d talk and work it out.

  I was a stupid piece of shit. I hated myself for letting her walk.

  The gas station structure was empty and dead. No lights. No nothing. I watched it for a while from the shadows of a big construction dumpster parked outside a brick-front home against the curb. It was a big, red thing. Full of debris. Probably a bathroom remodel, or maybe a kitchen. I smelled plaster and old wood and watched the gas station until my muscles got tired.

  It was late. I didn’t know how late. I crept across the street, sick and tired of waiting.

  I shouldn’t have let her go. I never should’ve let her walk.

  Cap, damn it, where are you?

  I slipped along the side of the building. I stood near the back door and listened. It was covered in plywood, but the wood wasn’t nailed down. I moved it aside, inch by inch, and slipped past.

  It was dark. Pitch dark. I stayed crouched right on the edge of the back room and let my eyes adjust. When I could see, vague shapes sprouted in the gloom. Stacks of boxes. Cardboard boxes. Some of them piled onto industrial racks. I ran my fingers across the boxes then peered inside of one. A microwave oven. I smiled to myself.

  So Balestra was running the same sort of shit as Falsone. Probably took over the jobs right where the Falsone guys left off. Fucking Balestra. Stole an empire. Ruined lives.

  I moved deeper. There was nobody and nothing. If Rod worked this place, he wasn’t there. I’d have to get a better sense of the structure and plan an assault for later. Rod would die. My revenge wasn’t finished.

  Something creaked nearby. I went still, listening. I pulled the baton out really slow and held its comforting weight in my hand.

  Another creak. Motion.

  I extended the baton as the lights came on and I realized my mistake.

  They were fucking blinding. I’d adjusted to darkness, and now it was bright. I swung the baton wildly, not sure who was coming. Someone hit me in the back of the head with what felt like a baseball bat. I grunted and fell to a knee. I swung out and hit a vague shape. Some guy cursed. Someone else hit me again. Knocked me sideways, but I staggered up, tackled a vague blurry shape. Grabbed hair and rammed a head against a wall. The guy grunted and someone else hit me.

  Pain blossomed. My ears pounded. I was caught. Cornered. It was a fucking ambush. A goddamn trap and I’d walked right into it. Too distracted thinking about Cap to see it. I knew this would happen. Didn’t change my situation.

 

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