Forever Lies

30

I thought I’d feel different after the deed was done—either as a product of guilt from taking a life or relief from enacting the justice I’d sought for the last six months. I had been wrong. I felt no different now than I had an hour before. If anything, I felt somewhat lost. My attention had been so focused on identifying, locating, and killing Squeeze, I hadn’t considered what I would do next. Not that I had many options. I had secured a job at a local steel plant and petitioned for custody of Ari as soon as I turned eighteen. I’d found unexpected help at the Attorney General’s office—a kind older lady who had helped me get in touch with legal aid. Ari was now my sole purpose. I would be relieved to get her back, but the prospect was also daunting. How would I support both of us with my meager earnings? How the hell was I supposed to raise her? I had no idea what I was doing, but I was not my father—I would not run from my responsibilities. I clenched my fists in determination as I eased down the sidewalk when a voice called out behind me. “Hey, kid. Wanna tell me why you did that?” The voice belonged to an older man and didn’t sound particularly upset, but his words froze me in my tracks. I slowly turned to find a man leaning against the car I’d just walked past. He was an average build and wearing a suit, but that was about all I could make out. Where the hell had he come from? Did he know I’d just killed a man? Or was he asking about something else entirely? “You’re gonna have to be more specific,” I shot back, attempting to remain calm. The corners of his lips pulled up with amusement as he stood and approached, signaling for us to continue walking. “I’ve been watching Mr. Martinez over the past few days.” My veins all turned to ice at the mention of Squeeze’s name, but I kept my lips sealed. “My associates and I had suspected he was stealing from us,” he glanced over at me pointedly. “Which would have been rather unfortunate for Mr. Martinez. As things stand, you seem to have eradicated my problem for me. What I’d like to know is, who are you and who are you working for?” My steps slowed to a stop, and I debated my answer. This man knew what I had done—if I told him who I was, he could go to the cops. On the other hand, it sounded like he had been working with Squeeze, and in that case, he was a criminal himself. Was I willing to kill him if he demanded my name and it came down to a fight? The answer was a resounding no, which left me with few options. “Luca Romano.” His eyes narrowed. “Romano. As in Salvatore Romano?” “Assuming there’s not more than one, yes. My father is Salvatore Romano.” My distaste at uttering those words was palpable, and the man’s brows lifted in surprise. “I wasn’t aware he had any kids.” “That’s because he left my ma when we were little, never came back.” “I see. He was never a particularly honorable man, so I’m not surprised.” He peered at me more intently. I could see in the dim moonlight as a series of questions crossed his face. “What business did you have with Mr. Martinez?” “He killed my mother.” He nodded sagely as if everything now made perfect sense. “So, this was a personal matter. Am I to understand you were working alone then?” “Yes.” “It’s no light thing, taking a life. You seem to be handling it rather well.” “He was scum—didn’t deserve the air he was breathing. I did the world a service.” The man burst out laughing and patted his thick hand against my back. “You are a pip, you know that?” “Thanks,” I said wryly. “I appreciate the compliment, but I really should be going. The police could be here any minute, and it would probably be best if we both got lost.” “Why should they come? No one in this neighborhood is gonna call the cops. Even if they did, you’re fine here with me.” My newfound friend gazed at me questioningly, his eyes light with amusement. “You believe in fate, Luca?” The question caught me off guard. Did I believe in fate? If I did, would that mean my mother was supposed to be killed? “I’m not sure I do.” “Well, I do. And you know what else I believe? I believe you and I have met here tonight for a reason.” He held out his hand, and I hesitantly clasped mine in his. “My name is Michael Abbatelli, and you and I are going to become very good friends.” OceanofPDF.com 15 Alessia “Alessia, wait up!” I paused, turning around at Jackson’s voice just outside the entrance at work. “Hey, Jackson. Twice in one week—you sure you’re not following me?” I teased as he caught up to me. “Nah, the judge says I’m not allowed to do that anymore.” Those dimples. He was such a flirt. “Can you spare a minute to walk with me? Won’t take long, promise.” What’s this all about? “Sure.” I motioned him back toward the sidewalk. “What’s up?” He glanced behind us at the building, then peered back at me sheepishly. “I know I already said something, and I should probably keep my mouth shut, but I’m not good at doing what I should. I saw you yesterday … with the Italian.” I peered at him uneasily, my stomach starting to churn with trepidation. “Yeah. I know you said he was dangerous, but I’m a big girl and can make my own decisions.” Was he still trying to talk me out of dating Luca? Jackson pulled me aside into an entryway alcove, glancing around as if he’d stolen something and expected to be busted any second. “I’m putting my neck on the line here, but you need to know,” he said in a hushed whisper. “That man is in the mafia—you need to stay away from him.” He stared at me, pleading earnestly with his eyes, but I just stared back blankly. “That’s absurd. Just because he’s Italian doesn’t mean he’s in the mafia. My family is Italian, and we aren’t in the mafia—that stuff doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve been watching too much TV.” I was incredulous. His allegations had come so far out of left field, all I could do was scoff at him. Jackson pursed his lips and lowered his head, his face inches from mine. His chocolate eyes were no longer warm and inviting, instead, they were laden with shadows, dark and ominous. “That stuff is still very much alive. You know I’m Irish—some of my family is involved in a similar organization as the Italian.”