Believe (6 page)

“No. It’s here. The bastard must have it here.” He pushed her away with a gentle motion.

He must mean his father, as she assumed this was his office, not Lorenzo’s. “If he was hiding something from you, why would he keep it here?”

He stopped mid-stride. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

Lita touched his arm. “Please, Lorenzo, let me take you home.”

He nodded. She smiled, almost laughed in relief. She caressed his arm then took his hand. They walked out and down the stairs.

“We’ll go through the back.” Lorenzo led her away from the door into the club. “I don’t want you in there.”

Even in the hall, the scents of alcohol, sweat, and cheap cologne stung her nose. She leaned into Lorenzo. When they stepped into the fresh night air, she breathed in, but the smells lingered. Raindrops pattered on the sidewalk. She ran for Uncle Enzo’s car, Lorenzo beside her. They hopped in. Lita twitched her nose. Now it smelled like wet pavement and dirty laundry, an odd contrast to the lingering lemony scent of Uncle Enzo’s aftershave also wafting in the car.

Lita drove around the corner and up the street to Sal’s building. She parked in the back, where Lorenzo’s car had been the night before. He must’ve left his at the club. Before Lita could get out of the car, Lorenzo grabbed her arm.

“You were right. Wait here.” He focused on the side of the building. Lita followed his glare. A burly man smoking a cigarette paced near the private door to the upstairs.

Lita rubbed her throat. Before she could speak, Lorenzo got out of the car and approached the man, who threw down his cigarette. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, whispered something, and handed it to Lorenzo, who glanced at it. He nodded then watched the man walk out of the parking lot. The man disappeared around the corner.

Lorenzo strode back to the car. He opened the door for Lita.

“Is that what you were looking for?” Lita chafed her hands on her skirt.

They sprinted to the building, to get out of the rain.

“Not exactly.” Lorenzo stopped when they reached the stairwell inside. “You go home. I’ll be okay.” His voice dragged with weary resignation, as her father’s had during some of the long, painful days of his illness.

“No.” She pushed her damp hair back.

“I forgot how stubborn you are.” His voice lifted slightly.

Lita smiled. “Give up, then. Or I’ll start singing.”

He glanced at her. “Okay, for a few minutes. Sal’s probably here. He can play mother hen instead of you.”

Lita’s smile faded. She preferred Lorenzo calling her kitten to mother hen. Lorenzo held the door for her. She walked upstairs.

Lorenzo opened his front door. Lita walked down the hall. His apartment was cold. The rain pounded into the roof.

“Excuse me.” Lita walked to the bathroom.

When she was done, she entered the living room. It was still dark, except for the light in the kitchen. Lorenzo was rinsing out a glass. She stood in the doorway. Papers, still creased, contrasted white against the dark counter.

“Should I get Sal?” Lita rubbed her fingers.

Lorenzo shook his head. “I will, later. I need something from you first.” His voice was that same low rasp he’d spoken to her in last night—part hurt, part desire. He strode to her. She gripped the doorframe.

He hugged her waist and pulled her into him. Her hands went instinctively to his chest. He kissed her, a fierce, unrelenting force.

A sharp taste. Held too tight. No. She pushed at him. He wouldn’t let go. A scream began in her throat, strangled by his mouth. He released her. She panted for air, stepped back. He watched her. She trembled, hugged herself.

“Lita…I didn’t mean…” Lorenzo took a step toward her.

She shook her head. Images flashed—Jane’s boyfriend, reeking of alcohol, groping her, pressing on her...She scrunched her eyes shut. She’d thought all this was past her, that she’d processed it. But the taste on Lorenzo’s lips had reminded her.

You’re safe. You’re loved. You’re protected.

“I’d never hurt you.” His words reinforced her thoughts.

She opened her eyes and edged toward him, reached out her hand. “I know.” She focused on her breath for a moment. Lorenzo caressed her arms and kissed her forehead. Warmth seeped into her. The rain danced against the window. “It was the alcohol taste, not you, not your kiss. Sometimes, little things remind me.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll remember. You should never have gone through that.” He held her close. “Are you sure you want to be with me, Lita? My past, you won’t like it.”

“I want to know what’s in that paper. I want to know the truth, I want to know you.” Lita glanced up at him. She touched his hair, smoothed it back from his forehead. He took her hand and kissed her palm.

He led her to the couch. They sat. He held her hands, studied them. They sat silent. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Please, Lorenzo. I want to help you. Please let me.”

He met her gaze. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “My father’s been blackmailing me for years. I thought I could find the evidence now, destroy it. But he had it with an associate…He made sure I could never escape.”

Lita squeezed his hands. A father blackmailing a son…her stomach lurched, the jerky movements of a newly awakened monster in an old movie. Lita rubbed the faint scarring on Lorenzo’s hands. The hurt he must have been through…She shivered.

“He started gathering documentation of my…indiscretions…in high school. Fights, girls, petty stuff. Then, I made the mistake…I wanted to protect you from that guy.”

Lita shifted. “His death wasn’t an accident.” Lita’s voice was as hard as the nasty, rotted pit in her stomach.

“No. I didn’t mean for him to get killed—but my father took it too far. Then I owed him. My mom died and I gave up. I did more things—wrong choices. Fights, extortion, affairs…”

Lita pulled her hands away. A faint buzzing began in her ears. It was as if her body didn’t want her to hear this any more than her mind wanted to process the details of Lorenzo’s corruption.

“That’s why I promised Lee I wouldn’t take you into my world. He doesn’t know everything, but enough to want you out of it. I want you out of it.”

Lita clasped her throat. Screams and tears and denials lodged there, unwanted guests who stay too long. She shook her head.

“You deserve better. You deserve your dreams. You deserve a good man. I’d sell my soul to be that man. But it’s already gone, broken.” Lorenzo brushed his hands against his thighs, as if he wanted to sweep away the shattered pieces of his soul.

“No. You’re…” The words she’d said—You’re a good man—felt tainted now. She glanced at her hands. A spot of blood nestled in the skin between her thumb and finger. That man who’d tried to rape her, that predator—his death was on her too. Lorenzo’s father had taken things too far, but so had Lorenzo.

Maybe Lorenzo was right. Maybe Lee was right. Maybe Uncle Enzo was right. She couldn’t face that kind of world, where retribution trumped justice and personal pleasure forced out kindness and love.

But love wasn’t gone. It was in Lorenzo’s eyes, in his words, in his kisses, in his caresses. But love couldn’t save people. Love couldn’t make a relationship work. Love remained in her heart, but people didn’t stay: people changed, people left, people died.

“I’ll leave town for awhile if that’d make it easier for you.” Lorenzo stood.

Lita hugged her knees. “No. Please, don’t leave. It’s just…a lot to take in.” She wanted to believe in Lorenzo. She did believe in him. He could change.

“I’ll be fine now.” He walked to the window and leaned against the side.

Lita rose, her body aching as if she’d spent the day pushing her father’s wheelchair around town, and the night cleaning their little house. She walked to him, placed her hand on his back. He didn’t move.

“Lita, go. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

He pressed his hand against the wall. The muscles in his shoulder tightened. “I want to be alone.”

She didn’t believe him. “But—”

“Just go.” He hunched his shoulders, moving away from her.

“Will you come over tomorrow, please?”

“Yeah,” he rasped.

Her head throbbed—her heart screamed to stay with him, but her mind told her to give him space, and give herself time to process what he’d told her. She touched his back once more. He stayed rigid. She padded out, tugging the door shut behind her. She’d get Sal; maybe he could help Lorenzo.

When she reached the ground floor, she sat on the bottom stair. Pulling a compact from her purse, she freshened her makeup.
La grazia dell’ amore
was unpredictable, mysterious, but she knew it would find Lorenzo. She rose to find Sal.

Chapter Six

Lorenzo started up in his bed. His sheets twisted around him. His head ached, his body tight with tension from the usual nightmare. The one where he was restrained—and he couldn’t protect Lita, couldn’t reach her in time.

He sucked in a few deep breaths. He climbed from bed, stretching. His shoulders eased, his calves loosened. Nothing held him any longer—not anything he couldn’t cut and free himself from. The nightmare had to end.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Soon, steam billowed out. He glanced at himself in the fogging mirror. Today, he could be there for Lita, like she’d asked. And today, he’d start to be the man he could be, a man she’d be proud of. Even if she decided they could never be together, she’d know he loved her.

***

Lorenzo waited outside the door at Grandpop and Vincente’s house up the street from Uncle Enzo’s. He turned to look at the palm trees and iron gate. He couldn’t see down the block, where Lita was.

“Vincente.” Lorenzo nodded to his cousin Vincente, who opened the door, dressed for church. Vincente and his Grandpop, Lorenzo’s great uncle Vittorio, usually arrived home from church at this time. “Grandpop around?”

“Yeah. He’s in his sitting room.” Vincente motioned Lorenzo to walk with him. “Heard about your father. You doing okay?”

Lorenzo stared at his cousin’s back. Vincente was a bit shorter than Lorenzo, but he was more powerful. He could take a man down with one well-timed punch. When Lorenzo needed trusted backup, Vincente was the first person he called.

“I’ve got business to discuss with Grandpop.” Lorenzo followed Vincente through the door down the hall. He hated this, asking for help. The men in his family didn’t ask for help. But he had to, this time.

“Want me to leave?” Vincente glanced at him. He had the shrewd eyes of Uncle Enzo and Grandpop—deep set, focused, sometimes eerily calm.

“Up to you. Might need backup, though.” Lorenzo rubbed his hands.

Vincente clapped him on the shoulder. They walked in.

Grandpop turned off his TV and steepled his hands. “Lorenzo. My condolences. What brings you here?”

“Thanks. I have a favor to ask.” Lorenzo stood like a soldier at attention. Asking for a favor made his body tense more than when he’d spent two months at military academy. He’d been kicked out of some of the best prep schools in California.

Grandpop nodded. His grey hair was thinning, but nothing else about him was less than robust. Even seated, his muscular frame and vitality intimidated more than the Patton-like commanding officer of that military school.

“My father’s been blackmailing me for years.”

Grandpop snuffed an angry hiss and shook his head. “
Bastardo
.” He waved a hand at Lorenzo, signaling him to continue.

“He told me I could never escape who I am. But I’m not going to be him.” Lorenzo relaxed his shoulders and gripped the back of the sofa. “My father gave all the evidence to his associate, Uri Volkov. I have to convince him to exchange it.”

“For what?” Grandpop leaned forward, his silver eyebrows raised.

“The clubs. If that’s enough.” Uri wouldn’t broker a deal with Lorenzo. Uri only dealt with men he considered old enough to be wise, and wise enough to be in charge of their families—or men, like Lorenzo’s father, who had something on him.

Grandpop twisted the wedding ring he still wore, though his wife had passed a year before Aunt Angela. He pointed a sinewy finger at Lorenzo. “It will be, if I tell him it’s enough.” Grandpop rose. He walked to a side table and poured himself a shot of Sambuca. He raised the glass to Lorenzo. “Success.” Grandpop knocked back the clear liqueur in one gulp. “Vincente, go get Nico. He’ll drive.”

Vincente nodded and strode back out the door.

“I know why you’re doing this, Lorenzo.” Grandpop stood in front of him. He waited for Lorenzo to meet his stare.

Lorenzo shifted his feet and stared back. He scratched the side of his mouth. “I want to change.”

“For Lita. Enzo told me—”

“None of you can judge me.” Lorenzo stepped closer to Grandpop, looming over him.

Grandpop raised his eyebrows and frowned. He placed a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder and squeezed. Lorenzo flinched at the sharp pinch to some nerve he hadn’t known was there.

Grandpop released his hold and patted Lorenzo’s shoulder. “We’ve all done wrong. But thinking love alone will change you—it’s a false hope. Enzo loves that girl like she was his daughter. And I see why. We have more experience—”

Lorenzo didn’t need to be told about false hopes. He needed to believe. “Then don’t help me.” Lorenzo turned.

“
Impaziente
. Stop interrupting. I’ll help you. I know what it is to lose love.” Grandpop’s voice lowered to a whisper.

Lorenzo faced him. “I don’t know if Lita will have me.” His body ached. “I want her to see I can be the man she believes I could be…” He sank onto the arm of the sofa.

“The man she sees with eyes of love.” Grandpop nodded. “When she speaks of you…” He snorted out a breath, like a frustrated bull. “Up, up.
Andiamo
. We’re due for supper at Enzo’s in a few hours.” He snapped his fingers and strode out.

Lorenzo hopped up. Eyes of love…Lorenzo rubbed his hand over his mouth to wipe away his smile. He walked out. Lita loved him. Or so Grandpop thought. Her kisses said yes. Her body said yes. If he stopped saying no…yes would win.

***

Nico, Grandpop’s security man, parked the car outside the modest house of Uri Volkov. Volkov had been a business associate of Lorenzo’s father, who’d had no friends, only associates, and Lorenzo.

The sun filtered through the trees lining the block in the inner Richmond District, painting shadows along the sidewalk. Lorenzo gripped the paper bag of Celeste’s jam-filled cookies they’d stopped to buy at D’Angelo’s. Volkov had a sweet tooth. Besides, Grandpop never showed up empty-handed. Or without back-up.

Lorenzo followed Grandpop and Vincente up the stone stairs. Nico waited in the car. Vincente pushed the button outside the elaborate iron gate. A buzzer sounded. Vincente pushed open the gate. They moved into the cool entry.

The burly man who’d delivered the papers to Lorenzo last night opened the front door and stepped aside without a word. The house smelled of tobacco, newsprint, and sugar. An older maid bustled by with a coffee service tray balanced in her meaty hands. She smiled at Grandpop.

“
Ciao
,
Signore
DeGrazia.” Her Russian accent made the lyrical Italian sound clipped.

“
Ciao, bella
.” Grandpop flashed her a smile.

She giggled. Lorenzo shook his head at the same time Vincente did. Grandpop’s way with women approached legendary.

She dipped her head and led them down the hall into a back room. Volkov sat stuffed in a rounded chair behind a large desk covered with papers and magazines. The maid set the tray on a side table.

“
Khoroso
.” Volkov rubbed his hands together. The maid poured coffee. “Good morning, Vittorio. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Uri, you’re looking well.” Grandpop slid into a leather wing chair and steepled his hands. He waved at Lorenzo. “We’ve brought you a little treat from D’Angelo’s.”

Lorenzo handed Volkov the bag. The old man smiled and delved into the bag, pulling out a cookie. He bit into it, chewed, and sighed in satisfaction. “If I weren’t already married, I’d have snapped up that Celeste D’Angelo before your brother. She bakes the confections of heaven. Coffee?” He sipped from his tiny cup.

Vincente and Lorenzo declined, but Grandpop accepted. The maid left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Sympathies for your father, Lorenzo.” Volkov brushed cookie crumbs from his hands.

Lorenzo nodded. His chest tightened. This man might look comical, but he was as ruthless and violent as his father had been, or so Lorenzo had been told.

“Let’s not pretend, Uri.” Grandpop pointed his hands forward. “Vincenzo Calabra was a bastard. No good to any of us.”

“He served a time or two. Got favors out of me.” He stared at Lorenzo. “I can’t say I liked him.” Volkov shrugged. “I made a promise.”

“The man blackmailed his own son.” Grandpop made a spitting sound. “Lorenzo wants out.”

Volkov narrowed his eyes at Lorenzo. Lorenzo didn’t move, barely even blinked.

“This arrangement works fine for me.” Volkov crossed his arms onto his protruding stomach.

“I have a better proposal.” Grandpop leaned forward. “Lorenzo gives you the clubs, you give him his father’s papers.” Grandpop’s tone was confidential, confident. He sat back with a shrug. “And you’d have my gratitude.”

Uri leaned his elbows on the desk. “How do I know Lorenzo won’t change his mind and make unnecessary trouble?” Volkov’s voice was thick with suspicion.

“There’s a woman.” Grandpop twisted his wedding ring.

Lorenzo clenched his jaw. Grandpop was not going there.

Volkov chuckled. “With Lorenzo, there are many women.”

“No more.” Grandpop made it sound final. “This one—the face of an angel, innocent, and bakes like…her mocha cake is…” Grandpop kissed his fingers.

That was Lita, almost—she was more, more than Lorenzo had fantasized.

Volkov wiped a finger around his mouth. “Both the clubs. Plus his father’s little house in the Marina. And cake from this divine woman.”

“My lawyer will draw up the papers. He’ll have them to you tomorrow morning.” Grandpop rose and held out his hand.

Volkov nodded and shook Grandpop’s hand. “Glad to put the devil’s work behind.” He shook Lorenzo’s hand. “You bring that young woman with her cake when we sign, Lorenzo.”

“I—” Lorenzo didn’t want Lita here.

“We’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.” Grandpop gripped Lorenzo’s arm. “Always a pleasure, Uri.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Volkov said through a bite of cookie.

Lorenzo walked out, flanked by Grandpop and Vincente. Vincente clapped him on the back. “Who’s this woman?”

“You’ll meet her later,” Grandpop answered before Lorenzo could open his mouth. “
Nipote
, don’t forget to invite Gina.” Grandpop led the way out.

Lorenzo and Vincente glanced at each other and chuckled. “He won’t be satisfied ‘til we’re all married and popping out kids.” Vincente shook his head as they walked out into the warm sunshine.

“He’d have to be a miracle worker to pull that off.”

“Watch it. Grandpop helped me find Gina. And you remember what my grandma Teresa used to say? Miracles happen every day.”

“If you believe.” Lorenzo’s voice was hushed.

Vincente glanced at him again. “There’s always a chance.” Vincente shot him a half-smile as he hopped into the seat next to Nico.

Lorenzo scanned the horizon. The sun shone high in the bright blue sky, wispy clouds floating like angel wings, close to the peaks of the city’s hills. Heaven was close enough to reach. He just hadn’t looked up to notice—until now, until Lita.

***

Grandpop faced Lorenzo as they waited outside the wide oak front door at Uncle Enzo’s. He straightened Lorenzo’s tie and smoothed the shoulders on his dark grey suit.

Grandpop gave his noble nod of approval. The door opened. Grandpop smiled. “Ah, Sophia.” Grandpop stepped in and hugged his only niece. “You look lovely.”

Aunt Sophia grinned and fluffed her curly, dark hair. “Thanks. Please, come in. Lorenzo. Vincente, Gina was just asking about you.” Aunt Sophia’s smile faded when she glanced at Lorenzo. “Carlo’s in the living room with her. Janetta and Paolo are in the kitchen with my dad.”

Lorenzo frowned. She hadn’t mentioned Lita. Surely Aunt Sophia would get along with Lita.

Vincente kissed Aunt Sophia on the cheek. “Going to say hi to Carlo. And kiss my fiancée.”

“Where’s Lita?” Grandpop said. “I have a favor to ask her.”

Aunt Sophia shot a grimace at Lorenzo. “I sent her to the store with Joey for a few things.”