Dario Page 12

  I nodded once, turning away from both women, my stomach tight as my mother apologized to Ava, and I realized I wanted her more than anything else in life.

  And she was not going to make a fucking thing easy for me.

  * * *

  My ma had warned me not to mess with Ava.

  “That poor girl has had enough troubles to have you messing with her.” When I demanded my mother tell me what the hell that meant, I was dismissed, getting a tongue cluck and a quick order to go make myself busy somewhere else.

  The weather was turning cooler but was still warm enough for walks in the park, a place my mother and Ava went most afternoons when Ma thought I was busy taking up the slack Dino’s shooting left. The man was recovering, and Dimitri was back in town, practically living with Maggie and Mateo, but I hadn’t forgotten the job my brother gave me. He wanted to know why she was here. But, I still know. Finding that out would have me approaching Ava from a different angle, something that was nearly impossible with my ma and Angelica always circling around her.

  Something had happened to her when she was away. That much was clear in the way she stared off into space when no one needed her, or how the smiles she gave her customers weren’t as sweet or as real as they had been before.

  “You should find out when she’s alone,” my sister Toni said, watching me as I sat on the patio chain smoking, waiting for Ava to leave the bakery.

  I glanced to my right, stepping away from my sister when she got too close. “You think? Damn, Toni, why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”

  “Don’t be an asshole. I’m just saying, figure out when Ava takes her breaks and—”

  “Three o’clock every afternoon. The last few weeks when she does, Ma is waiting, and they walk to the park.”

  Toni moved her eyebrows up, and her mouth dropped open.

  “What?”

  “Jessie McClintock.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The taste of the cigarette was bitter, and I wrinkled my nose, smashing the thing into the ashtray before I’d smoked half of it.

  “Dario, you remember Jessie. She was my best friend senior year.”

  “I didn’t pay attention to your little friends.”

  “Oh my God, you fucking liar.” She pulled the Zippo from my pocket and flicked it open and shut before she sat next to me at the table. “You were obsessed with her. Followed her that entire summer after we graduated.”

  “I did not—” but when Toni twisted her head, fingers frozen with the Zippo open, I realized who she meant. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” She sat forward, resting her arms on the table. “You never gave two shits about most of the girls you banged, but Jessie, she was different. You went after her like she was smack and you need a fix.”

  “You got a point?” I said, grabbing my Zippo back.

  “My point, big brother, is that you were smooth back then. She wasn’t interested and that made you very interested. You figured out that acting all aloof would reel her in. You chased her until she caught you. I thought you two would be together forever.”

  “You were stupid at eighteen.”

  “Fuck you. I have always been brilliant.” She kicked my chair, ignoring me when I rolled my eyes. “But you, not so much.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose, silently asking God why he hadn’t just given me another brother instead of this nuisance before she touched my arm, grabbing my attention.

  “Jessie was the only girl I’ve ever seen you worked up over. Until now.” Toni nodded to the bakery, and I jerked my attention in that direction, standing when Ava moved out of the door and headed down the sidewalk.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Yeah, you do and hurry before Ma gets there.” Toni’s smile was annoying. She still tried to pull off the cute little sister thing and it never worked. Well, mostly. “She always says none of us are too old for her to put over her knee.”

  I waved to my sister as Ava came into view. There were a couple blocks between us, and I hurried to catch up only slowing as she moved across the last intersection in downtown and walked the cobble pathway to the park. I would have followed, would have made a move and taken the seat next to her on the bench, but it was already full.

  Ava settled next to my mother and smiled at her. This wasn’t the same forced expression she gave her customers. It wasn’t too wide, too friendly, not genuine. This smile was sweet, affectionate and Ma returned it, putting her arm around Ava, brushing her hair back.

  The redhead relaxed into the bench as my mother spoke, saying something that made Ava throw her head back and laugh like I hadn’t seen her do since she got back. I stood on the sidewalk behind the stoplight and a wide, blue mailbox watching the two women in my life who gave me the biggest grief and felt ashamed. For being a son my mother was embarrassed of and a man who had no shame with how much he wanted Ava.

  There was something she was hiding. Something she couldn’t keep to herself if she wanted to stay hidden from her ex-husband and his family. As I watched my mother’s smile and the slip of her gaze back toward me, I realized I knew nothing about either of them.

  And I knew exactly where Dimitri had learned to school his thoughts. My mother winked at me as she patted Ava’s shoulder then went back to listening to whatever secrets the woman gave her.

  12

  Ava

  There was one hub of activity in Cuoricino that acted like a beacon for everyone in town: Carelli’s Fine Italian Cuisine. The restaurant was big, taking up nearly an entire block and every day for lunch, the crowds filled out the dining room. At night, the capacity doubled. The food was delicious. The servers were professional and waiting to greet everyone was Angelique Carelli, Dario’s mother. But today’s crowd at Carelli’s, I guessed, didn’t have anything to do with Angelique’s chicken parm or the lunch special.

  Looking out of the front bakery window, I took in the line of cars along the sidewalk, blocking the street at the front and back of the building. Around the restaurant and across the street groups of people huddled together with their faces pinched and worried, their mouths hidden behind hands that covered whatever it was being whispered back and forth.

  “Guys,” I asked Angelica, Ty and Josie as they did the closing prep. “What’s going on at Carelli’s?” It took me several seconds to realize no one answered, and I turned, catching the quick looks the kids gave to Angelica when she shook her head. “What?”

  Angelica nodded, grabbing a half-filled plastic container from Ty and both he and his cousin disappeared into the kitchen. A few seconds later, the back door closed, signaling that the kids had left.

  “Jesus, what did I say?”

  Angelica sealed the container before she walked the window beside me and closed the blinds. “Okay,” she started, looking behind her. “There are things that happen in this town and when those things are the ‘oh shit’ kind of things, they usually involve the Carellis.”

  She didn’t need to elaborate. There were enough “oh shit” moments in my past, nearly all of them the result of something my ex’s family had done.

  A quick nod toward the restaurant, and Angelica looked through a slip in the blinds as we both watched the street outside.

  “And this is an ‘oh shit’ moment having to do with them?”

  “I don’t like to gossip—”

  “Oh, bullshit. I wasn’t in town ten minutes before you gave me the skinny on Father Bishop and the newly widowed librarian.”

  “Fine,” Angelica said, looking hurt but still smiling that I’d called her out. “But when that stuff happens, the Carellis close themselves up. Smoke says it’s to keep the town safe, but everyone knows it has to do with his—” I glanced at Angelica, wondering how much she’d say. “Family business.”

  “And this?” I asked, nodding again out of the window.

  “Well, from what Jenny, one of the servers said, someone took Maggie’s little boy.”

  “Oh, God!” My chest clenched, and
I swore something sour inched up my throat. He was a sweet, happy baby, and Maggie doted on him. So did Smoke, for that matter. “He’s not—”

  “No, he’s back.” Angelica crossed herself and that ache in my stomach eased as she squeezed my arm. “So are Maggie and Smoke, but Smoke got shot and he’s in the hospital. Now they’ve got everyone holed up at the restaurant. And,” she added as she looked out of the window, lowering her voice, “Jenny told my sister she’d overheard Smoke and Dario talking about how they’d ‘handled’ the situation and whoever it was that took Mateo.”

  “Handled as in—”

  Angelica stepped away from the window, returning back to the counter. “As in, I know nothing.” She looked up, her face blank, empty of everything but a warning. “And if you’re as smart as I know you are, you’ll pretend you don’t know anything either.”

  * * *

  I no longer had nothing to lose.

  My father made sure of that.

  “You do this favor for me, and I’ll see to it that no one ever knows where your little goddaughter and her grandparents are living.” When I just stared at him, he put his hand to his heart, muttering a quick, “May the devil take me.”

  But the truth was, my father was the devil and I’d spent most of my life in hell.

  People I loved, like Makayla and her grandparents, people like my staff and even Mrs. Carelli, were in danger now, and it was entirely my fault. That realization hung around me like a second skin, a ghost that chased away any hope I had of breaking free from the life I’d been landed with. And the people who wanted me dead.

  Knowing all of that, realizing how irresponsible it was, I still headed toward the restaurant, pretending I didn’t hate that I had to pass the place on my way home. This time, my steps were slower, and my gaze lingered to the patio. It was stupid to hope that Dario was there. It was foolish to glance that way thinking I could keep the pleasure off my face.

  I did my best, but failed epically.

  He leaned against the same post, a Zippo in his hand, but he didn’t smoke. Every step I made, he followed, those dark, rich eyes shifting in miniscule movements until they were on my face and the clicking of the lighter went still.

  Then I forgot all about hiding what I thought of him, about the danger he was in just talking to me when I spotted the bruises on his face and the small cut on his lip.

  I reached him, not thinking about what I was doing, not asking permission, as I grabbed Dario’s face, moving it from side to side. The ache in my stomach returned.

  “What happened?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, I frowned, my face clenching when I took a good look at that bruise. It was purple and black in some spots, yellow and green in others. I clicked my tongue, head shaking when he didn’t answer. “Dario, who the hell—”

  “You worried about me, darlin’?” He took my hand, letting his fingers slip across my knuckles. “Wanna kiss my boo boos?”

  Typical. Common. Dario always deflected. He always pretended, and I’d started to believe there wasn’t anything real or authentic about him. I could play that game too.

  Pulling my hand down, I shook my head, arms curling together. “I’m sure you’re capable of finding someone who actually cares to tend to your injuries.”

  “Aw, Ava, I have someone to do that.” He flicked his tongue against his piercing, but I refused to look at it.

  “Your mom? Isn’t she busy?” I asked, nodding behind him to the activity going on inside the restaurant and Mrs. Carelli holding the baby on one hip and directing Smoke’s men around the dining room.

  Dario glanced over his shoulder and when he looked back at me, he gave nothing away, keeping his expression blank and bored. “It’s family business.”

  Those three words sent bile curling up my throat and I stepped away from Dario, uninterested in anything else he had to say. “I’ve had enough ‘family business’ to last a life time.”

  He let me walk five feet away, the decision to never bother with Dario already made until his voice, sharp and curious, slowed my steps. “McKinney family business?”

  My body went cold, my insides heavy as his question registered. I allowed one look to the left, not quite glancing back at him, too worried what he’d see on my face, before I kept walking.

  They knew. Of course they did. The Carellis were resourceful, smart. I couldn’t keep my secrets forever.

  “Keep walking, darlin’, it’s fine.” Dario’s voice got louder the faster I walked, “but I promise you, someday soon I’m gonna make you want to never walk away from me again.”

  That was a promise I was terrified he’d keep.

  13

  Ava

  Fifteen nine-year-olds loaded down with craft supplies— glue, foam board, more stickers than I’d seen in my life, and probably ten pounds of rainbow glitter— descended on my shop. My cookies and brownies, topped with homemade vanilla ice cream seemed the likely reason the bakery was selected for the third annual meeting of Cuoricino’s Glitter Girls group.

  What the hell even was that?

  These loud and laughing, fighting and fussing creatures took over my shop and left it looking like the Barbies and Bratzs had a battle to see who the better doll was. Wasn’t sure if there was a clear winner.

  “I can’t handle this,” Ty said, looking on the verge of tears when he’d swept for an hour straight and the glitter wouldn’t budge from the grout between my pretty black and white tiles. “I mean, seriously—”

  “I’ll get the Hoover,” I promised him, not holding out much hope that even that would make my bakery floors clean again.

  Four hours, post glitter-orgy and I finally clicked off the lights and locked up the mostly-clean bakery, my feet throbbing and my stomach growling. The sun was setting, and I glanced to my left, looking up when the sound of the streetlights flickered on.

  Across the intersection, the blockade of cars and SUVs surrounding the Carellis’ restaurant had thinned, and only two black Escalades flanked the entrance. The “Open” sign rested center of the front doors, and when I remembered that today was Wednesday, Chicken Marsala Day, that rumbling in my stomach got angrier.

  He wouldn’t be there, I was sure. Dario seemed to have forgotten about keeping tabs on me the second his brother and Maggie had returned to town. He’d been camped out at the hospital, taking his turn watching over Smoke from what Angelica had heard.

  Another rumble in my gut, and the decision was made.

  “Ava, love, how are you?” Mrs. Carelli greeted me with a smile, arms opened to offer me a hug. “Oh, bella, you looked tired.”

  “I am. We had all these girls with glitter and—”

  “Say no more!” Mrs. C. shut her eyes, holding up her palms like she might say a quick prayer. “The Glitter Girls are the reason I refuse to host kids’ parties anymore.” She looked me over, touching my face, her smile and sympathetic eyes reminding me why I’d looked forward to my three o’clock breaks. Walking to the park with this sweet lady had made things seem almost normal. “You hungry?”

  “I am.” I squeezed her hand, hoping she wouldn’t be offended when I made my request. “Do you think I could get a plate of marsala to go? I’m exhausted and just want to eat something good and crash.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes, sweetie.” Another pat against my face, and the woman grinned, that expression shifting when she looked over my head and snapped her fingers. “Dario, get Ava a nice glass of Brunello. And don’t you dare charge her for it.”

  Damn, I thought, turning toward the bar, my chest quickening as Dario leaned against the counter on one elbow. There was no expression on his face, nothing that gave away anything he was thinking.

  He knows who I am.

  If he knew, then so did Smoke.

  But does Dario remember that kiss?

  As I settled on the stool in front of him, I hoped my face wasn’t as red and flushed at it felt. Dario pulled out a glass, grabbing the bottle of red from somewhere undern
eath the counter, his gaze lingering on my face as I pressed my hand against my skin, not being remotely subtle.

  “Thanks,” I said when he slid the glass in front of me. A quick sniff of fragrant cherries and oregano, and I sipped, loving the swirl of the sweetly bitter taste hitting my tongue.

  He went on staring at me, mouth shut, not even that small ring on his bottom lip moving. Something was different about him. Like there were thoughts and intentions brimming beneath the surface, ideas and agendas that came to him the longer he watched me sip my wine.

  But he remained silent. Still.

  It was damned unnerving.

  “How’s your brother?” The frown he wore softened to a neutral line, so I dug a bit deeper. “And Maggie and her baby? I haven’t seen them around much—”

  “Good.” He pulled out a tumbler and filled it with bourbon, taking a quick sip before he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them halfway up his arm. “My brother is okay too.”

  I’d been wrong about the roses and rosary beads. The tattoo on his hand didn’t stop at his wrist, but I’d never seen the rest. Not with how distant we’d been from each other. Not until Dario revealed his cut, olive forearms. The roses turned to vines that twisted and curved around veins and defined muscle.

  “Like what you see?” he asked, his voice pulling my attention from that tattoo.

  Instead of answering, I drank my wine. The temperature in the room warmed, and I pushed my hair off my neck, twisting it into a knot I tied on the top of my head.

  “It’s darker now.” When I glanced at him curious, Dario moved his chin, motioning to my head. “No more bleached blonde.” He shrugged. “The red suits you better.”

  “Ah. So you want to talk about that night?” He nodded once, but didn’t speak, eyes alert, concentrated as he sipped on his bourbon. Resting my bag on the stool next to me, I shifted, not sure what the point was in rehashing the past. Especially when all the details weren’t there for me. “It was a long time ago.”