Page 43 of Mafia Queen
“You were given to me,” I say, taking out a handkerchief to wipe away her tears. “I took you as a prize, but I never had to give myself back to you.” Her face is dry, and I drop the hand with the handkerchief into her lap. “But I will. Now I will. Right now. We drive west with the clothes on our backs, and we find your normal.”
Her eyes go wide. When she blinks, there are no tears left, and I think maybe this is it. No more war. No more violence. Maybe I can be as decent as she believes I can be. Maybe I can make her happy.
And when she smiles, I believe I can. But then her face breaks apart into a different expression, and I realize her happiness will now take more than being normal.
12
VIOLETTA
“We find your normal.”
He says it with as much excitement as I’ve ever heard in his voice. As if this gift I asked for and he already refused is wrapped in shiny paper and tied with a big red bow. As if I hadn’t already chosen him over this fantasy normal.
It’s too late. I don’t want normal. I want revenge.
The miscarriage changed me, even before I knew it was intentional. But now, I can’t just walk away from the people who did this. My skin is laced in a web of vengeance.
I squeeze his hands in both of mine. “You wonderful, crazy, gorgeous, dramatic king of a man. They tried to kill you, and running away meant you never getting shot again. But there’s no normal in my future. Not after this.”
“Forzetta, this is not you.”
He’d consign himself to a life of quiet misery because a life without my happiness would be so much worse. I believe him, and it’s almost too much to bear.
“You’re going to let them get away with it?”
“To protect you, I would.” He believes it, but when my eyes narrow in suspicion, he looks away with a little smile. “For a while. When you were settled, I’d come back and bury them all. I’d make it home for dinner.”
I smile with him, then see a bulge in his side jacket pocket big enough to open the slash into a bright orange smile.
“You got me something to eat,” I say.
He removes the orange. “You’re hungry?”
“Yeah.” I try to take it from him, but he pulls it back and peels away its overly thick rind. “If we stay, what do you think it means?”
Considering my answer, I open a napkin from the glove compartment and lay it open between us. He drops the peels on it.
“I think it means we’re going to take care of Damiano. And Gia. And Dr.—”
“Take care?” He breaks apart the fruit and holds up a wedge for me. “This means what?”
“I’m not hedging.” I reach for it, but he taps my hand away with atsk.“It means one of us is going to kill them. Dead.”
“So tough, myForzetta. Open.” I open my mouth, and he drops the wedge onto my tongue. “You’re so eager to lose your soul.”
I chew the orange. The sweet juice explodes, and the tart pith shocks. I really am hungry. “Haven’t I already? When I slashed that guy’s throat?”
He pops a wedge into his mouth, tasting the same sour sweetness but with a different tongue.
“You were kidnapped, drugged.” He feeds me a bigger, double-wedged piece. “Not in your right mind. Maybe God can forgive you, but He doesn’t forgive sober vengeance.”
“That’s a theological stretch.”
He nods, looking at the white registration tents. What’s going on in his mind? Before I figure it out, he shakes his head once as if resetting reality, but doesn’t say a word.
“Santino?”
“I don’t know how to protect you from what’s coming.” He gathers the peels inside the napkin. “Damiano’s still reaching for the crown. That means you.”
