Dario Page 9

  She was across the street and inside her bakery before my brain caught up with my senses and I realized Ava Anderson had just paid me a compliment.

  7

  Ava

  Dario Carelli was a liar. There were times I had to remind myself of that.

  He’d stolen into my thoughts, making me forget who I was and why I’d come to this town. But, Dario, the man he’d been six years ago, had gotten under my skin long before that rain-soaked day under the pharmacy awning.

  Now he was utterly different. Prison had hardened him, but it went deeper than that. His face wasn’t lineless and sweet like it had been all those years ago. He carried a bulk that hadn’t been there when we first met and what I saw in him now, beyond the façade he used to manipulate me, was a darker Dario—shadows and demons made him unrecognizable.

  And yet, something had told me I knew him. Some small part of my splintered consciousness reminded me of the boy who’d wanted to rescue me from the hell I lived. The memories were splintered, but there were flashes that remained.

  His clean-shaven face and the smell of a cigarettes.

  The press of his wide bottom lip still, but warm against my mouth.

  The strength in his hands when he held my shoulders.

  Seeing him that first day on the sidewalk and brought the sensation back to me, but the realization of who he was—who he pretended not to be—was hidden behind years of living and the scars he carried.

  He was so different from the man who’d dried my tears and wanted to make me believe the life I led with my then-husband would ever get better. It was his words and my willingness to break free that had given me the push I needed to plan my escape.

  But the Dario I knew now? That cold, flirty, worn-down-by-prison asshole who had lied to me about who he was? That wasn’t the Dario I’d dreamed of for years. That man was gone.

  He’d spent weeks staring across the intersection, the plume of smoke in one cigarette after another giving away how often he watched my shop. How closely he followed me.

  I should be disgusted. Incensed. In a rage at his pathetic attempts to discredit me, to invade the small life I was etching out for myself.

  But I wasn’t.

  “I’m going to check out early,” Angelica said, tapping my shoulder as she threw the dish rag she’d used to dry the metal counter into the hamper. “He still out there?”

  We stood near the front window as I lifted the chairs onto the tables to sweep the lobby one last time before closing.

  “Not in the past half hour.” But I knew Dario’s routine. As cool as he pretended to be, he’d be back, downing another cigarette just as I left the shop and walked the five blocks to my apartment.

  “Sad little man.” Angelica watched me, her attention diverted from the restaurant across the street and focused on my face. “You aren’t feeling him, are you?”

  “What?” A glance at her and then I returned to moving the chairs onto the tables. “I don’t self-sabotage that way.”

  “Uh huh.” She shook her head, pulling her coat off the rack near the door. “Can’t tell you how many girls I’ve seen over the years go all stupid for that idiot.”

  “Well, then, it’s lucky I’m not a girl.” She waved me off when I opened the door, shooing her through it before she had anymore unwanted insights.

  Truth was, I should have known better. Accepting his date had been careless when I was supposed to be keeping a low profile. Even after I learned who he was, that wild surge of immediate anger I felt dimmed. Dario was a liar, true, but so was every other person I’d met in this life, and I had known plenty. Myself included.

  And I was raised by one.

  I was given away to another.

  I’d had no way of getting away from either of them.

  Not at first.

  Compared to them, Dario was harmless and believing that loosened my anger even more. So did the foot traffic I’d gotten despite his weak attempts to bully me.

  A half hour later, I closed my shop, twisting the lock and setting the alarm. The cigarette smoke across the street wafted in a curl, polluting the air around me the closer I came to the restaurant.

  Dario stood out on the patio in a casual lean against the post he seemed to favor. He pretended to be focused on his phone, thumb moving quickly but when he spotted me headed toward him, the phone got stuffed into his pocket and he flicked the cigarette into the ashtray.

  “You and me, we got problems.”

  I tried to fight the smile, almost managed it, but his expression was twisted into a severe glare, that lip piercing twisting as he opened his mouth to yell at me.

  “You realize I got bitched out by my brother for a fuckin half hour today because of your little stunt?”

  “Stunt?” Pretty sure he didn’t buy the confused, innocent tone I tried to affect or the head tilt that was supposed to help convince him I was clueless. “I don’t what you’re talking about.”

  “The hell you don’t.” He stood less than two feet from me, and red splotches darkened his neck and spread across his face. “An invoice? Seriously? A fuckin invoice?”

  This was sparring. Back and forth and for some reason, it was fast becoming my favorite new game.

  “Oh. Yeah.” He worked that piercing fast, his mouth pulling to the left as I adjusted my scarf and pulled on my collar. “Well, your brother’s men have spent a lot of time in my shop. Most of it eating their weight in tarts and scones.”

  “Ava—”

  “And with the bad publicity you made sure I’ve gotten—”

  He opened his mouth, but didn’t speak as I lifted my fingers to quiet him.

  “I had to call in a few tabs, and, well, your brother’s employees had the most substantial ones.” When he glared, his nostrils flaring I dropped my mouth open, just remembering Smoke’s little ban. “Oh, that’s right. They aren’t supposed to still be eating my pastries.”

  “They are not—”

  “Well, the invoice was for that first day.” I curled my arms, brushing my fingers against my shoulder like there was lint on my shirt. “They did eat quite a bit that day and, you know, the extra baskets—”

  Dario went silent, moving his eyes up, that gaze sharp and focused as I offered him a half-hearted smile. He reached for his pocket, likely to grab a cigarette but seemed to think better of it when I stepped back.

  “All my life, I swear to Christ, I’ve never seen a chick with bigger balls than you.”

  “Why? Because I’m calling in the tabs?” I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets to keep from reaching out and pushing back the hair from his eyes as a burst of winter wind zipped around us.

  “You know who my brother is.” He stepped closer as the wind picked up. Maybe it was so I could hear him better. Maybe because he was impressed by my nerve. “You know that he runs this town.”

  I wasn’t an idiot. It was because of who Smoke Carelli was that I’d made Cuoricino my home. A slip of memory crowded my thoughts as I watched Dario’s face and with it came the heaviness of guilt. His face, younger and sweeter than it was now, had been imprinted in my mind for years. The taste of his mouth that I’d taken without permission, lingered like a song I couldn’t place but wouldn’t leave my thoughts. When Angelica told me who he really was, there’d been a lot of things pounding inside my thoughts. Surprise that I’d found him again, replaced almost immediately by the swift rush of anger at being lied to, and then shame for what I’d caused. For the five years Dario had lost.

  It had been my fault.

  That was a memory that wasn’t completely tattered, though I wish it was.

  Blinking away the thought, I glanced at a red Chevy pickup as it passed on the street, smiling at Mr. Ricks when he waved.

  “Your brother is also a businessman. If he’s as good as his reputation would have me believe, then I assume he understands the importance of paying your debts.”

  His laugh was loud, impressed and I hated how much I liked the way it sounded, o
r how relaxed he looked just then. “Man…” Dario rubbed his hands over his face, his head shaking. “Seriously, you just don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, do you?”

  “No,” I admitted, some of my humor dimming. “I stopped caring about other people’s opinions a long time ago.” The admission came out of nowhere, lifted right from my mouth before I could stop it, and Dario seemed to catch it. His smile lowered, and there was something in his expression that made me forget, just for a moment, that he hadn’t tried to manipulate me; like he could take the secrets I had and hide them from the world. They might be safe there. They might be protected.

  Then, I remembered who he really was and how he’d kept that from me.

  “Anyway,” I tried, clearing my throat before he could ask what I’d meant with my confession, “you’ll make sure Smoke pays his debt, right?”

  “I am making no such promise.” His smile returned and Dario’s eyes flicked downward, to my mouth as though me pressing my lips together was some kind of move. “But you know, Ava…”

  My attention fell away from his smile, from that piercing and went right to my cell as it chirped twice. It was three p.m. in New Orleans. Makayla was just leaving school and she never carried her cell during the day. Alex had left Mexico and was halfway to Colombia by now and utterly without cell reception.

  “Hang on,” I told Dario, gripping my cell, frowning as MAKAYLA spread across the screen. “Hello?”

  But it wasn’t my goddaughter. And when the low, gruff voice rang in my ear, my heart felt like it inched up my throat. He let a laugh I’d always hated hearing. Before he spoke again, I looked at Dario, wishing he was still Marco. Wishing he was someone at all that could help me.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, and I forced a smile, taking one last second to watch him, absorb the sharp contours of his handsome face. He smiled, like he was nervous and didn’t want me to know it. That expression that lay frayed but clear in my memory and I understood it would be the last time I saw something so sweet.

  “I’ll see you around,” I told him, hurrying down the sidewalk before he could stop me. “If you’ve touched a hair on Makayla’s head…” I said into phone, my stomach twisting as I waited for the voice to return.

  “Calm yourself, Reagan. I’ve only stolen her phone, but I am close enough to touch her. Keep that in your head before you get mouthy. As I’ve always told you, there’s no running from me, love.” There was nothing warm in my father’s thick Irish accent. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I can see my way to forgetting where that goddaughter of yours and her people live.”

  My stomach clenched and I stopped, willing my heart to calm. “I will kill you if you—”

  “Threats now, is it? Please, love. We both know you’ve not the stomach. Keep a civil tongue in your mouth and all will be well, including that little angel you’ve kept hidden from me.” His voice was deep, reminded me of gravel and the gallons of whiskey he’d consumed over the years. “Now, listen to your da and listen good.”

  “I’m listening,” I told him, wondering if I could make it to my apartment before having to throw up.

  “That’s a good girl. There’s a job I need you to do.”

  8

  Dario

  I never lost my worry. Not a single second since I got out. Not for a moment as I settled back into my old life. Five years is a long time to live like an animal, and that’s what prison had been for me. Time in a poorly guarded zoo.

  Every step I took outside of my place or from my family, I looked over my shoulder. Any room I sat in, my back was to the wall, my eyes on the door. Any walk on the streets and my hands were dipped deep in my pockets, my fingers curled around a knife, my brain pulsing with the irrational fear someone made a mistake, and a cop would cuff me and send me back to prison.

  That worry wouldn’t leave me. I’d always be on edge so when the sixth day of not seeing Ava rolled around, the worry turned to panic.

  Stupid, really, me worrying over a woman that wasn’t mine. Even more ridiculous since the only reason I noticed how long it had been since I saw her, was because Ricky had complained about the biscuits.

  “Something’s off, I’m telling ya.” He pointed to the half-eaten biscuit on the crumpled wrapper in front of Manny. “That’s going on a week now and they ain’t the same.”

  “Did you pay for those?” I asked the man, interrupting his argument.

  “What?” they said together, frowning when I shook my head.

  “That shit isn’t coming out of my pocket.” Ricky rolled his eyes, likely because I’d been bitching about having to pay these assholes’ tabs out of my own pocket.

  My brother was still pissed I hadn’t convinced Ava to pay up, and now I was out seven hundred bucks.

  “It’s the same,” Manny said, between slurps of coffee. “Tastes the same to me.”

  “The fuck do you know?” Ricky fought the biscuit out of Manny’s hand and took a bite. “See? Not the same. Not nearly enough butter.”

  “Maybe Ava is losing her touch,” Manny offered, grabbing his biscuit back.

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Ricky wiped his hands on the crumpled napkin in front of him. “She ain’t been around for almost a week, and the biscuits are bad because of it.”

  It didn’t make sense for my neck to heat up or for that rotten, gut ache to seize up on me as Ricky’s words sank into my brain. I’d chalked up not seeing Ava near her bakery or spotting her as she walked to her place every afternoon to me being busy, distracted by the shit going on with my brother and his business. Two days of not seeing her had bled into six, and until Ricky mentioned it, it hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal.

  Now it was.

  “When’s the last time you saw her?” I asked them, not caring who answered me.

  “Tomorrow makes a week.” Ricky leaned back in his chair, resting his locked fingers on his fat gut. “I know it’s been a week tomorrow because every Thursday afternoon she puts the Friday special on the board before she leaves. Since it’s usually potato soup or matzo ball, I noticed when it wasn’t there this afternoon. I was in the mood for matzo ball and—”

  I didn’t bother hearing the rest of his shit. Instead, I moved down the sidewalk, spotting Ty Yuen and Josie Currie near the dumpster on the side of Ava’s building. There was no use in walking inside the bakery and demanding shit from Angelica. She’d tell me to get fucked before the door shut behind me. But Ty was an obvious flirt, and he had a thing for Carellis even though none of us was his type and my sister lacked the equipment he seemed to prefer. His little cousin,

  Josie, never spoke but I could read her expression like a cop after a fresh donut.

  Angelica was busy with a customer, pointing into the display case as I moved in front of the window, hurrying to the two kids with vapes tucked under their fingers as they huddled close together.

  “Hey man,” I tried, making Ty pop his head up like a prairie dog. “Let me ask you something—”

  “Sure,” he said, nudging his cousin away from him as I approached.

  “Where’d Ava go?”

  “Oh—” Ty winced when his cousin elbowed him then recovered, flourishing his vape to his mouth, his eyes shifting upward, then over my body like he was an inspector, and I was prime rib. “Well, I gotta be honest…” Josie nudged him again, but Ty held up his hand, snapping his fingers to get her still. “As I was saying,” he continued, glaring at his cousin, “Miss Angelica said we aren’t to tell you shit about anything that happens inside the bakery.”

  I stretched my neck, irritation making my head throb. Angelica would never forgive me for taking her little sister, Coraline on a date our junior year. I pulled out a cigarette, watching the kids, taking my time to light the thing and inhale deep.

  “Well, Angelica doesn’t have to know, now does she?” When I pulled my wallet out, Josie stepped from her cousin’s side and held open her palm. “Oh, you wanna talk now?”

  “Everybody has their pric
e.” She stood in front of Ty, flashing a crooked smile.

  “Here,” I said, laying a fifty in her hand.

  She folded it, tucking it into the front of her coat before Ty could argue. “All Miss Angelica told us was that Miss Ava had to leave in a hurry.”

  “That ain’t all she said,” Ty interrupted, his hand open now. I obliged, laying a fifty in his hand, but the kid wasn’t impressed. He lifted his eyebrows, muttering a low “umm hmmm” before I pulled out another fifty. Ty copied his cousin, stuffing it between his non-existent cleavage. “I overheard Angelica telling her sister…” that cocked brow arched further, the judgement heavy as he looked me up and down, “that Ava went to New Orleans to check on her goddaughter, but Angelica didn’t think that was the whole story.”

  Abandoning my smoke, I folded my arms, waiting for Ty to finish. When he didn’t, I returned the cocked-brow look he gave me. “Did Angelica have any theories on where she’d gone after New Orleans?”

  “Well, she did say Ava kept getting calls the day before and when she answered them, Ava ran into her office and shut the door—”

  “And Miss Ava never shuts the door when she’s on her phone,” Josie said.

  “I was getting to that.” Ty inhaled his vape, the thin, wispy smoke disappearing above his head. “I did hear Ava say something once about getting away from her family…her daddy, I think, but mainly she kept her business to herself.”

  Scratching a nail against my chin, I contemplated grabbing another cigarette, but thought better of it as Ty and Josie huffed on their vape, hoping I didn’t look as stupid as they did when I smoked. “Did Angelica guess when she’d be back?”