Mafia Captive (12 page)

“He’s family. I won’t choose a stranger over family, so drop it. We’re leaving for Mass in an hour; be ready.”

He left and locked the door behind him. Leo was right. He owed her nothing, but it still hurt. And yet, if she was only a stranger and family meant everything, why had he protected her from Angelo in the kitchen? Why had he given her this room? Why did he care about her comfort at all?

***

The drive to the church was silent—at least in Leo’s car. Faith’s body angled away from him in the passenger seat. They hadn’t spoken since their conversation in her bedroom, and now she was somewhere far away, staring out the window at the snow. He imagined she was contemplating the possibility and opportunity for escape. After all, it was her first time outside the house since he’d taken her.

A pang of guilt stabbed him. She was right. She was a captive animal kept in a cage, presumably for her own safety. But Angelo was the criminal, and she was the innocent—no matter how much Leo might wish to ignore the truth.

Gina sat in the back, squeezed between Uncle Sal and Aunt Lily. There was a loud sigh from the backseat. It had to be Sal, because nobody else in the family could sigh in such a heavy and all-encompassing way.

“Lily wasn’t Italian,” he said finally, as if he’d been brooding about Faith’s Irish blood since dinner. And probably he had. His quick dismissal of the Irish Problem betrayed how the thought dominated his mind. At least he was now acknowledging his own hypocrisy, given how his wife had been as fair as a Nordic princess. Maybe not Irish, but not Italian either. He’d suffered his own share of ribbing when he’d brought her home—if the family stories were to be believed.

Leo caught Lily’s reflection in the mirror as she made an annoyed look and flipped her blonde hair. “I’m
still
not Italian, Salvatore.” It had been a long time since her hair had naturally been that color, but she’d maintained it in the fight against the encroaching gray army with the help of a salon professional.

“Yes, dear,” he said, humoring her. The truth was, once they’d had kids, and they had come out of the womb all shiny black eyes and hair and olive complexion, her ancestry had been forgiven on the spot. Though, one of their grandchildren was fair like Lily. Surrounded by everyone else’s dark looks, Angelica looked as if she’d been kidnapped. But if the family noticed, they didn’t mind. After all, looking like Lily was far from a criminal act.

His Ma started to go on about weddings and babies and how long before she could have grandchildren. She made it a point to note that she didn’t care if they came out polka-dotted. All she wanted was babies to cuddle and coo over.

Leo winced and glanced over at Faith, who had gone stiff. He’d promised her she wouldn’t have to have children for him. And he meant it. He wasn’t about to violate her to keep up family appearances, and a turkey baster was too crude even for him. Either way, forcing her to incubate his progeny would be almost as bad as rape. In some ways perhaps worse. They’d invent a story of infertility.

This whole thing was spiraling too far out of control, far beyond the scope of his original intentions. Locking Faith in the dungeon each year for the holidays would have been less trouble. But then he came back to himself. As long as Faith was in his home, no matter where she was, he couldn’t have a normal life. These were things he hadn’t paused to consider when his concern had been keeping his brother from killing someone Leo could save.

Angelo had given him an obligation, not a gift. A package of guilt and frustration. All he wanted was to take Faith and fulfill his every twisted fantasy with her, but his brother had gotten all the sociopathic genes. Leo didn’t have the heart to follow through with an unwilling victim.

He parked the car on the far side of the church and growled in annoyance as he observed the bundled people rushing for the door. The Christmas Eve late-night Mass was always crowded. Although it was midnight and most people were tucked in their beds dreaming of sugarplums and fairies, for the faithful of St. Stephen’s, Christmas Eve was the longest night of the year. Even the New Year didn’t inspire staying up so late. It was countdown, kisses, champagne, and then passing out.

He came around to let Faith out of the car as a doting fiancé should. She blushed and looked away when he took her hand and helped her out, catching her as she stumbled in the three inches of snow. Did she feel the spark between them? It would be safest for her if she didn’t. If she gave any indication she wanted him, her protected bubble would burst. He wouldn’t be able to make any promises about what he would or wouldn’t do with her then.

***

Faith sat in the pew toward the back of the church, sandwiched between Leo’s mother and Leo. She felt Gina’s shrewd eyes on the two of them, and God knew what the woman was thinking. She was probably fantasizing about baby outfits. The thought made Faith recoil. On the other side of her, Leo’s hand squeezed hers. She was so fragile sitting next to him, with her tiny hand trapped in his larger one.

They were in the last row of the benches the family had taken. Angelo and Davide sat two rows up, practically cuddling. Angelo had looked back and shot her an evil look once or twice during the service, but each time, his attempt at menace was interrupted by standing or kneeling or reading or singing.

When it was time for the Eucharist, Faith didn’t move. Leo’s mouth brushed next to her ear. “Are you not going up? It’ll look bad to the family.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, “I haven’t been to confession in a long time.”

“I can’t imagine how you could have offended God.” The sincerity of his statement caught her off guard.

“I wouldn’t feel right about it,” she said, hoping that would be the end of the discussion. She didn’t know what she’d do if he tried to make her partake.

He nodded and disentangled his hand from hers to make his way to the line with the rest of the family. Caprice waited for him in the aisle with a man-eating look on her face. She looped her arm through his, guiding him toward the line and flashing a smug look back at Faith.

Something tightened in her gut. Faith was only concerned about Caprice for what it could mean for her safety. Right? Surely she wasn’t worried Caprice might steal him away based on some misguided attraction. Wanting Leo would be suicide. He’d already made plain the nature of his desires. The thought of what he might be into chilled her blood.

Caprice’s inappropriate flirtation was cut short when they reached Leo’s mom. Gina looked back at Faith and then whispered something to Leo.

Faith didn’t give two hoots what his family thought about it. She may be a lapsed Catholic, but she wasn’t about to go receive the body and blood without having her sins purged. It wasn’t worth the risk to her soul. Let them think what they wanted. This farce had gone too long anyway.

Watching the mobsters participate in the ritual, she wondered how many of them had recently killed or beaten someone or committed some other crime. She wondered if they’d gone to confession and if so, what they possibly could have told the priest to absolve themselves for their crimes.

Faith glanced to her right and noticed Uncle Sal hadn’t moved from his spot. His hard look met hers for the briefest guilty moment, then he looked away quickly. The rest of the family was in line going to the front. Even Angelo and Davide, who were sinning on a regular basis according to the Church. She very much doubted they’d been to confession, either.

When Leo and his mother returned, Gina sat beside Faith and patted her hand. “It’s all right, dear,” she said.

Faith looked to Leo who shook his head. Whatever lie he’d fed his mother to appease her, Faith didn’t want to know about.

The snow had stopped falling at some point during the service. When they got outside, the clouds had drifted away to leave a cold, crisp night with stars that looked like brilliant pieces of glittering ice. It was barely Christmas morning, and instead of being alone in her apartment with her cat feeling sorry for herself, she was surrounded by people she suddenly wished were her family, even if there were a few killers in the mix. It was a family. And for all their faults and crimes, they loved each other.

The kids ran ahead and began making snowballs. One of the snowballs—thrown by a nephew—narrowly missed Leo, only to clip Faith on the ear. Everyone stopped and stared, waiting for her reaction.

She dropped her bag in the snow and formed a ball of her own to throw back, hitting Dante in the shoulder. The fight was on in earnest. Faith was surprised to see how spry Gina and Uncle Sal could be when balls of frozen water were involved. Sal’s grim darkness melted in the face of play, and even Angelo was less severe and threatening. For a moment she could pretend these were normal people who just really liked spaghetti.

She eased back from the fight and watched Leo. His eyes lit with glee as he threw and dodged snowballs. He was one of the few who hadn’t been hit. He was so beautiful, and decent in his way. Why couldn’t this be real? Why couldn’t he love her like a normal man? Self-pity gripped her, and a tear slid down her cheek, freezing halfway down.

“Is he hurting you?”

Faith spun to find Gemma lurking beside the hood of a nearby Oldsmobile like a harbinger of doom. “I’m sorry… What?” His sister had misinterpreted the self-pity for something more sinister.

“You heard me. My brother is not the saint he pretends to be. And I think you know it. If you want my advice, get out now. Don’t trust him. All he knows how to do is lie and hurt people.”

“I… um…” What did one say to a proclamation like that? It wasn’t as if Faith didn’t know the score. It was possible she knew more than half the women in the family, given the activity she’d caught Angelo in on the night they’d met. But Gemma wasn’t one of the naïve lambs, nor was she content to keep to the family code of silence.

Leo’s sister looked Faith over. Once she’d seen whatever she was looking for, she said, “He killed my husband. And I suspect he wasn’t quick about it.”

“Why would he…?”

Before Gemma could answer, Leo ambled over. Another nephew, Michael, got him in the back of the head with a snowball when he turned from the group. “Cheap shot!” he called over his shoulder.

“Whatever,” Michael said. “There are no rules with snowballs.”

Leo’s attention turned to Faith and his sister. “Gemma,” he said, nodding. But his face was tight, his eyes cold and narrowed. If Faith had any doubt before, it was gone. He’d killed Gemma’s husband. She took an involuntary step back and Leo’s sharp gaze shifted from his sister to Faith. In a fluid blur of energy, he took her arm and pulled her back against him in a parody of an embrace.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he whispered against her ear.

Faith froze.

Leo returned his focus to his sister. “What interesting gossip have I missed?” His grip tightened on Faith with each syllable out of his mouth, though it appeared to be an unconscious action on his part.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis. Like every fucking thing else in this twisted family,” Gemma retorted.

“Don’t test me,” Leo said. “What did you say to her?”

By now, family members had dropped their clumps of snow and drifted closer to hear the commotion, except for the few adults who were herding the children away into their cars—sensing things were about to turn very mature. The other parishioners had left during the snowball fight, and the priest had retired to the rectory. It was just adult family members now. And Faith.

“I don’t think you want to open that can right now,” Gemma said, “Not in front of the whole family.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Leo said. The warning in his tone was unmistakable.

“Let’s put it this way. You’re the only member of the family I’m a hundred percent sure is a murderer.”

There was a thud as a body hit the ground.

“Grammie!” Leo shouted.

“It’s okay,” Sal said when he reached Alba. “She just fainted.”

Gina crossed herself. “It can’t be true. My Leo’s such a good boy. He would never hurt a fly.”

“Fuck,” Leo muttered. “He broke Gemma’s jaw and one of her ribs. She was a mess the night she came to my house. And it wasn’t the first time. He would have killed her eventually, and none of you did a goddamn thing about it!”

“Language!” Uncle Sal said.

“Fuck language. Emilio deserved to die. Nobody touches any of my family. Being married in won’t keep you safe from me if you hurt someone I love. I don’t care if it’s not my business.” He let go of Faith and stalked toward the car.

Gemma stood in the middle of the snow like an abandoned angel with her mouth gaping open, unable to believe the truth had been spoken.

Everybody else went to their own cars. Maybe they were too jaded and used to pretending bad things didn’t happen to behave any differently. They’d all probably reboot like a bunch of computers and forget all this unpleasantness in the morning. Suddenly the night felt colder, so cold that it could suck the soul out of each of them, leaving only frozen corpses behind.

“Seriously!?!” Gemma shrieked, her breath making large white puffs in the air as she spoke. “He kills my husband, and you’re all getting in your cars like it’s nothing?”

Leo stopped and turned back to the group. “Emilio was a vicious bastard.”

“If Leo hadn’t done it, I would have,” Sal admitted.

“You’ll never know what it cost me to kill him,” Leo said, his voice cracking. “Never. I thought joining the priesthood would fix what’s inside me, but after Emilio I couldn’t.”

“What did you have that needed to be fixed before killing my husband? What could you possibly have done in your perfect little life to give you a big enough complex to take holy orders? Because I know you didn’t have some big dream to become a priest.” Gemma turned to Faith. “Is this the family you want to marry into? Do you even know who the Raspallo family is?”

“Yes,” Faith whispered. “I know.”

Gina crossed herself again.

“You TOLD her?” Sal bellowed.

Leo turned at his uncle’s gruff voice. “Of course not. But it’s not like rumors don’t fly around about us. It’s the 21
^st
century. It’s not as if she knows any incriminating details. No more than any of the other women in this family. And my future wife is my business.” He glared daggers at Faith, as if this were her fault. Or maybe he was daring her to challenge the white lie he’d told to paint over the cracks and make things okay again.