Cut Too Deep (35 page)

They parked in front of a small market with apartments stacked to the sky. His uncle rolled down the window and flicked his cigarette butt onto the street. Vito thought about the kid in the car with him. His parents were going to freak. He didn’t agree with his sister wanting to raise his Godson a Genetti, rather than a Lorino. It was Gio’s birthright, from a privileged Sicilian bloodline. His nephew’s parents’ decision to deny his place in the family annoyed Vito, but it was their choice to make. He felt conflicted between honor and respect.

“Hey, kid. Why don’t youse wait in the car, uh? I’ll be quick.”

“No, Uncle Vito. Please. I’m ready for this.”

“Aw, fuck!” Vito grumbled. “All right, but listen up. You keep your mouth shut. Let me do the talking.”

“I won’t say anything. I promise.”

Giovanni’s sneakers slid over the sidewalk in the dusting of snow that had started to accumulate. He prayed he didn’t slip and fall. His uncle would surely send him back to the car if he made any noise.

They entered a narrow glass door on the side of the market and climbed the staircase. Once at the top, they hung a left and stopped at apartment two. Vito knocked on the door. No one answered. Vito knew from an informant the guy he sought to speak with was home. The fucker had a serious gambling addiction. He owed the Lorinos a large sum. The guy was probably on the other side of door about to shit himself. Vito wanted to give the guy some time, but his not opening the door was problematic. He might need to teach the guy a lesson, but he had his nephew with him. Normally Vito would send someone else to make a personal appearance, but the guy’s wife inside was the daughter of a friend of the family. For that reason only, Vito wanted to cut the degenerate some slack.

Vito knocked again. “Come on, open up.”

Nothing.

Giovanni tried the door and it opened. Vito smiled down at the kid.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?”

Uncle and nephew quietly entered the small apartment. Vito went into the kitchen. Gio’s eyes roamed over the photographs on the wall, and then he froze.

They were here to see Hadley’s father. All of the overheard tales spouted by his uncles filled his mind. He had to protect her from any collateral damage.

“Hadley.” Giovanni ran down the hall, stopping at the first open door. A small bedroom decorated in pink and green. She wasn’t in bed. His eyes landed on a man lying on the floor covered in blood. His uncle’s footsteps sounded behind him. Giovanni bent down to shake the man, checking for life.

“Gio! Get back.”

Giovanni turned his head to his uncle. The man beneath him shifted and let out a gurgled cry. Giovanni saw the flash of silver before he felt the blade slice through his chin and under his jaw. Through the pain, his instincts kicked in. Giovanni ripped the knife from the weak man’s hand. He lifted it above his head, and plunged the blade deep into the dying man’s throat, finishing the job.

“Aw, fuck, kid.” Vito pulled his nephew by the waist. “What did you do? Fuck!”

Miller’s phone rang, tearing him violently from the memory. His heart slammed against his chest.

“What?”

“She’s home, boss.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t let her leave!”

Hadley held her arms around her stomach as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Mrs. St. Armont sat in her trusty rocker.

“Well, if you don’t look broken to pieces.” Hadley’s neighbor stood and walked toward her. “Are you having man troubles?”

Hadley laughed. Her neighbor had no idea how close she was.

“I’m okay, Mrs. St. Armont.”

“Nonsense! And don’t you think it’s time you called me Ayida?”

It was a pretty name that suited her neighbor perfectly. She unlocked her door.

“Thank you, Ayida. I’m fine though, honestly.”

“Pft, silly child. I’m old, not blind. Not yet anyway.” She opened Hadley’s door. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Hadley was too exhausted to argue. The two women went inside and Hadley curled up on her couch. Ayida went to Hadley’s kitchen, moving about like she lived there. Hadley heard cupboards thumping and ice clinking in a glass.

Moments later, her neighbor sat on the end of the couch. She held out a glass filled with a pinkish concoction. Hadley took the glass and sniffed it. It smelled good.

“What is it?”

“Oh, old family secret. A cure all.”

Hadley took a sip. It tasted surprisingly delicious. She gulped down half of it, soothing her parched throat. She set the glass on the coffee table and smiled at her neighbor.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Tell me what the man did?”

“Why do think it’s a man?”

Ayida sent Hadley an,
oh please,
look.

“At your age, it’s always a man.”

Hadley laughed.

“I’m afraid you’re right, but it’s more than that, and it’s a long story.”

Her neighbor balked, touching a hand to her heart.

“Time is something this old widow has plenty of.”

Hadley couldn’t believe she began pouring her heart out to this woman. To her shock, she didn’t break down in tears as she shared the most private details of her life. She even went as far to release the gut wrenching details of her relationship with Harold Duwatski since her neighbor had already been introduced to his ugliness.

Ayida waved a hand in front of her nose, her face twisting up as though she smelled something bad. “Bouda Kaka! Jijman Bondye vini sou bourik!” she spit the words in Creole and although Hadley had no idea what she said, it obviously wasn’t kind.

“What did you say?”

“This man is shitty ass, like a donkey, that God will deal with.”

Ayida made another face, this one sad, and asked, “Did you tell your Miller about him?”

Hadley shook her head.

“No. I’m ashamed.”

“One who asks for truth cannot withhold it.”

Hadley thought the woman spoke proverbially to be nice, rather than telling her she lived a double standard. She was angry at Miller for doing exactly what she was doing. Withholding what Hadley thought his heart couldn’t take.

“You’re a wise woman, Ayida.”

Miller sat in traffic, cursing. He slammed his palm on the steering wheel. Since he made the decision to be completely honest with Hadley, he couldn’t contain the flashbacks. He rubbed the scar on his chin, recalling how his uncles removed every trace of their presence from Hadley’s home and left her there with her dead parents. His own parents furious with his uncle for taking him there. Miller remembered the argument that broke out at the hospital while having his chin stitched, and how he’d been well prepared to tell the doctor how he climbed a fence and slipped. His father couldn’t get near his uncle. That night marked the beginning of their shared animosity.

His uncle had tried to dismiss Giovanni’s parents worry.

“It’s a scratch. It’ll heal,” Vito told his sister.

“It’s going to scar.”

“Eh…so what? Men have scars.”

Giovanni’s mother glared at her brother with unbridled anger.

“It’s not the scar on his chin I’m worried about, Vito! He cares about that girl! It’s his heart I’m afraid is cut too deep to recover from this.”

“We have to call the police and tell them she’s in the house,” Giovanni interrupted. His mother and uncle stared down into wide brown eyes filled with confusion.

“Oh, honey,” his mother said and rubbed his back. She couldn’t look at him. Being a Lorino came with a responsibility that was often painful to deal with. She’d always hoped to protect her young son from the reality of her family name. Her heart ached with failure and helplessness.

“No!” Giovanni flinched when Vito shouted. “No one calls the cops.”

Noemi gave her brother a serious look and attempted to cover her son’s ears. “Honestly. She’s a child. We know her family for heaven’s sake.”

“Yeah, Uncle Vito. You always say how important family is,” Giovanni pleaded.

“La Famiglia, kid.” Vito pounded his fist against his chest. “Our family. We take care of our own. It’s a harsh lesson, I know, but I decide, and what’s done, is done. That’s it!”

There would clearly be no changing his uncle’s mind. Vito continued to defend himself, but Giovanni tuned him out. His mother was correct. His heart had been cut deep, completely shredded by what he witnessed. Bearing guilt for his role ate away at his conscience, breeding regret that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He didn’t know how to forget what happened at Hadley’s. The only certainty was his desire to never become Vito. While being a Lorino demanded respect and garnered admiration, it wasn’t the glamorous life his young mind envisioned since he was a toddler. Morality wasn’t a Lorino family characteristic. Their lack of scruples meant Giovanni could never claim a birthright that found it acceptable to leave his friend heartlessly in a false act of protecting the family. He loved his family, respected them, but their business and their name wasn’t for him.

In the days that followed, his parents refused to leave him alone. By day three, he finally convinced his mother to stop worrying, and she allowed him to go out and ride his bike. He raced to the corner market and made an anonymous phone call. Sending someone to her rescue was the only way to dilute the guilt that had been slowly growing in strength before he drowned in it.

Miller gripped the steering wheel and shook his head as traffic continued to crawl. That night, and the powerlessness he felt, definitely scarred him. Throughout his life, the inability to control challenged him. Professionally, when he wanted complete say so in his company, he accepted dirty money to be successful. His personal life had been more twisted. For five years, he fought to save a woman who never wanted saving. Miller was repeating his efforts with Hadley, and it didn’t appear she wanted his help any more than Theresa did.

Miller rang Hadley’s apartment and waited.

She answered.

“Hadley, it’s me.”

The door buzzed open, but Hadley said nothing. An old woman in front of Hadley’s apartment eyed him as he approached.

“A lost woman can be found with soft hands. Truth will set you both free.”

She walked away, leaving Miller to wonder who she was and what she implied. He would have to find out later. He needed to check on Hadley first.

Miller knocked softly on her door. The woman who answered wasn’t scared, crying, or angry, like he expected her to be.

Hadley smiled and opened the door wider for Miller to come in. He looked disheveled, worried, and frantic.

“Are you okay?” His eyes scanned the length of her body, looking for injuries. Hadley appeared fine. “Did they hurt you?”

Her eyes flashed in surprise.

“How did you know?”

Miller grimaced, turning away from her. She wasn’t angry, but she was going to be.

“I set up some cameras around Mac’s apartment,” he murmured. “When I saw you get in the SUV with that man, I thought for sure I lost you.”

Hadley nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip, waiting for his words to fall into place.

“You were spying on me?”

Miller frowned.

“I was worried about you and clearly I had good reason. What did they want? How did you get away?”