Page 19 of Contempt

If it was possible to have OCD tendencies beaten into you, The League did that to him. But it wasn’t something he wanted to get into, at the moment.

Something else was on his mind.

It wouldn’t leave.

Renzo’s gaze drifted to the folder that was carefully balancing on the edge of the bathtub. Despite the many rules that The League placed on him, and the amount of control they had over his entire life for the next … six months, anyway … there were still people within the walls of the organization that would lend a hand, and stay quiet about it. Members of The League who weren’t as controlled as he was because they had earned their place and spot, and were now considered independent contractors to the organization.

One of them—or rather, two, now—just happened to be the Guzzi twins. Christopher and Corrado Guzzi, two members of the team Cree usually worked with when he did jobs that required more than one person. The twins had come into The League willingly, for reasons Renzo never thought to ask, and had a hell of a lot more freedom than anyone else that he knew inside the organization.

And for the most part, he’d made friends with the twins.

As difficult as they were …

The folder was a favor from them to him, as was the contents inside. Something he’d asked them to do a while back—a few months ago when he knew his term and contract with The League was almost up, and finally coming to a real end—but that they only now got back to him.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he brought the joint to his lips, and sucked on the tip. The heady smoke filled his lungs, and made his mind looser than ever. God knew he needed something for this.

Before he could think better of it, Renzo reached out and snatched the folder. He stubbed his smoke into the ashtray, so he would have two hands free to do what he needed. He ignored the way his fingers trembled at the tips as he flipped open the cover to find what the first page would be when he laid eyes on it.

Her picture.

A recent one, likely. He knew it had to be recent because her hair had changed slightly. More highlights of reds and blondes mixed in with a chocolate brown layered style. Soft waves falling over her shoulder as she turned to look at something behind her—or maybe someone had called her name. The shot had clearly been taken from outside of somewhere. He only knew that because he could see the slight glare of glass, and the reflection of a street on the window.

He went back to the woman in the photo. Her hazel eyes, and soft smile. Those eyes of hers were still the same. Full of life, and ready to explore.

Renzo took in the background around her—the artwork on the walls, and the sculpture resting on a raised stand. An art gallery, maybe?

The next page in the folder confirmed that idea. It seemed she was doing an internship for a gallery in California, and had graduated not too long ago. He wasn’t even surprised that she went after her dream where the art world was concerned. Maybe she couldn’t paint or draw or create to save her life, but damn, she loved art.

Renzo flipped through the last few pages in the file. It wasn’t anything important. Simple details about her current status and life. Nothing that concerned him, or made him worry. He went back to the first page.

Her picture.

Lucia’s smile stared back at him.

Renzo found that lump in his throat was back.

She was off limits.

Entirely.

The League made that clear, and it was almost fucking creepy how much they knew about his relationship with Lucia Marcello before he was brought to their organization. He should have expected that, if only because Lucia’s father had been the one to make the deal with The League. Five years of his fucking life to repay the debt of killing one of their members.

Five years without her.

Five years was almost up.

Renzo wouldn’t wait one second longer once he was done. He’d waited long enough, and not once in five years had this woman left his thoughts. She was always there in the background … constantly.

Something he couldn’t let go of. Someone he couldn’t forget, even if he had thought to try. He didn’t know about her, though. And that was the thing that probably fucked with his head the most.

Had she moved on?

Was she done?

Those were questions he didn’t have answers to.

Renzo didn’t like questions.