A Sinner’s Saint (De Bellis Crime Family #4)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

T here’s a saying about how bad shit always seems to happen in threes. Over the last couple of weeks, my family has had two. First, my sister-in-law was attacked. And then, one of my brothers got fucking locked up.

Gio is still in Sydney. Dealing with everything. Trying to get Gabe out. My big brother is confident that this shit is only temporary, insisting that Gabe will be freed in no time. I hope he’s right. But until that happens, it’s me, Santo, Marcel, and Eloise at the house. Oh, and Daisy—Gabe’s girlfriend. She’s a mess and I’m doing my best to split myself between everyone who needs me. Cammi included. It’s fucking hard. But family is family, and I’ll find a way to manage.

Cammi has been my rock over the last few weeks. If God designed the perfect girlfriend, it was her. I don’t have to explain shit. She just gets it. Considering she’s an only child and comes from a small family, I appreciate how tolerant she is of mine. I want to show her just how grateful I am. I’ve planned a date night. It’s out of my comfort zone. I’m not romantic like Gio. He’s got the romance shit down to a T. He’s always making grand gestures for El.

And I want to try to be like that too. For Cammi. I don’t want her to miss out on anything, which is why I’m standing at her front door, about to knock and meet her parents for the first time. I’m fucking nervous. I get that no father in their right mind would want their daughter to be dating a De Bellis. We’re known around town as not exactly being on the up-and-up. And now, with the news of Gabe’s arrest and pending charges hitting the papers, it’s probably the worst time to do any of this.

The door opens, and Cammi stands there in a white sundress that reaches her ankles. She has strappy little gold sandals on her feet. “Hey,” she breathes.

“Hey yourself. You look beautiful.” I hand her the flowers I picked up on the way. Rainbow roses, because no matter how dark my days are, Cammi is the rainbow after the storm.

“Thank you. Come in. I’ll put these in a vase. Then we can go,” she says.

“Are your parents home?” I ask her.

“My mum is around here somewhere. My dad’s at work.”

And just like that, a huge weight is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t have to meet my girlfriend’s father today.

“You want to meet my mum?” Cammi questions as I follow her into the kitchen.

“Do you want me to meet your mum?” I throw back.

“It doesn’t bother me. She’s out there.” Cammi points to the window that overlooks the backyard. A woman in her forties is bent over, digging weeds out of a garden.

I glance back in Cammi’s direction. “Did your parents have you when they were ten?”

“What? No.” She laughs.

“Your mum looks really young.” I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t… this.

“Yeah, they were teen parents. Not ten, though,” Cammi explains. “Let’s get out of here. We can do the meet the parents thing another time.”

Sounds like a fucking fantastic idea to me. “Lead the way.” I follow Cammi through the house and out to my car before opening the passenger side door for her.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I slide behind the wheel.

“Dinner,” I tell her.

“But where?” She tries again.

“Cammi, it’s not a surprise if I tell you.”

“I can act surprised when we get there,” she deadpans.

I shake my head and laugh as I reach over. I’m about to pick up her hand when I stop. I’ve done it once before without asking her, without getting her permission. And although she doesn’t need it, I still do. I still need to hear that she wants me to touch her. That I’m not like them . That I’m not touching her against her will.

“Vin, can you hold my hand? Please,” Cammi asks with a smile.

I hate that I need this from her, but I love that she somehow knows. She doesn’t complain or try to push me past it. She just accepts me… and my quirks. I really do believe she’s a saint, and no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise.

I entwine my fingers with hers and instantly get that sense of peace that washes over me every time we touch.

I made a booking at one of the nicest restaurants in town. It’s not somewhere I’ve been before but I do know Gio has taken Eloise here a few times. I pull to a stop out front, get out of the car, and hand the keys to the valet. By the time I reach Cammi’s door, she’s already standing on the kerb looking towards the restaurant.

“Vin, I’m not really dressed for a place like this,” she whispers.

“You look gorgeous,” I tell her.

She glances over at me with slightly pinkened cheeks. “Thank you, but still… this looks… fancy.”

“You hate it.” I sigh. I really thought this was what I needed to do to step up my game in the romance department.

“No, I love it. I just feel like I don’t really belong here,” she says.

“You belong anywhere you want to be, Cammi. You’re a De Bellis now.” I hold out my hand and wait for her to reach out and grab it.

“Did we get married and I forgot?” She raises a questioning brow.

“Not yet, but we will one day. Might as well get used to it now,” I say.

“Mr De Bellis, welcome. Your table is ready.” The host leads us to a private area towards the back of the room. There are three other tables in this little corner with other couples already filling the seats.

I pull Cammi’s chair out for her. Everyone is looking at us. It’s because they know who I am, and within minutes, the streets will know who Cammi is too.

“Do me a favour? Don’t go anywhere alone for a while,” I tell her.

“Where would I go? I’m always with you or the girls?” she says.

“I know. It’s just… some people don’t like my family and I didn’t think… I should have considered what it meant to come here. I don’t want to scare you, but when word gets out on the streets that we’re together… well, I don’t want anyone thinking they can target you. That’s all.” I try to explain it, downplay it. But after what happened to Eloise, I’m not taking any chances. Cammi should know the dangers of this world.

“I get it,” she says. But I don’t think she really does.

“Compliments of the chef, sir.” A waiter comes over with a bottle of Dom. He picks up a champagne flute, fills it, and sets it down in front of Cammi before doing the same for me.

“Thank you.” I vaguely pay him attention as he places the bottle in the ice bucket and walks off.

“Do they know we’re underage?” Cammi whispers across the table.

I laugh. “They don’t care. Perks of being a De Bellis.” I lift my glass and wait for her to do the same. “I love you, Cammi. More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.”

“I feel it too,” she replies while tapping her glass with mine.

“Get me another, boy,” a familiar voice calls out from behind me, and my entire body goes rigid. Sweat forms on my forehead.

No, this cannot be happening here. Not right now. I want to give Cammi romance. She deserves fucking romance with a normal boyfriend. Not with someone who’s so fucked up they can’t go out to dinner without hearing voices in their head.

And then I hear it again. “Just leave the whole bottle.”

I never saw their faces. But I did hear the voices—all of their voices—and I’ll never forget that accent. That thick, Russian accent.

“Vin, what’s wrong?” Cammi asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

“I can’t…” I shake my head. “We need to go.” I cannot sit here. I cannot be in the same room as this man. I will not. My hand clenches around the steak knife on the table. I have a better idea. “I’ll be right back.”

I push up from my seat, with the knife still clutched in my hand, and quickly turn around. The fucker is talking, which makes him easy to identify. I walk up behind him, pressing the serrated edge to his throat.

“You are going to stand up and walk through that kitchen to the back alley without saying a fucking word,” I hiss into his ear.

The second man at the table looks at me, jumps up from his seat, and leaves. Good. No one is coming to save this asshole.

“Get the fuck up now,” I grunt in his ear. My stomach churns, bile threatening to come up, and my hands are shaking. Being near him makes me physically ill. I have to fight to stay in the present, to not get dragged back into the past. He can’t fucking hurt me now.

Without a word, the fucker pushes his chair back and stands. “Through the kitchen and out the fucking back door,” I growl. I’ve felt a thirst for blood before. But what I feel right now is more than that. I want his blood, but I also want to rip his depraved fucking soul from his body and return it to the devil himself.

The Russian starts walking and I follow close behind him, adrenaline pumping through my veins and increasing with each step I take. I’ve thought about this moment often, what I’d do if I ever found any of them. I guess I’m about to find out.

The fat fucker slams the back door open so the heavy metal hits the brick wall. Then he spins around, his hands raised like he’s ready to take me on. I close the distance with a laugh. It’s fucking funny that he thinks he’s any match for me now. My booted foot lifts off the ground, landing in the middle of his chest. He stumbles backwards three steps before he regains his balance.

“You know who I am, and you know why you’re about to die by my hands,” I tell him.

“Fuck you, boy,” he sneers.

The little composure I had snaps, and I find myself slamming my boot against his gut before landing it on the backs of his ankles. This time, he can’t stay upright and hits the ground. I jump on top of his body, bringing the steak knife to his throat. I make a swift slice, right across the front. Blood sprays out everywhere as the fucker struggles to grab at the wound. It’s pointless, though. There’s no stopping the blood flow.

None of it is as satisfying as I imagined it would be. It’s too quick. Too merciful a death. So I grasp the knife in my fist and bring it down, slamming the tip into his chest before pulling it back up again. I repeat the process over and over. It’s still not enough.

“Vin?” I look up and see Cammi standing right in front of me. Watching me. Her eyes wide and her face pale.

I open my mouth to say something but I can’t get any words out. I stand and kick at the now lifeless body before taking a step forward. Towards Cammi. The knife drops to the ground. I hear it clank. But I don’t remember letting it go.

Cammi closes the gap between us. “I’m going to hug you. Is that okay?” she asks. I nod my head. She wraps her arms around my waist and presses her face against my chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

I hold her tight, even though I know it’s not going to be okay. She just saw me kill a man.

Cammi lifts her face to look up at me. “It’s going to be okay,” she repeats.

My arms drop from around her waist, and I take two steps backwards while shaking my head. “No, fuck. Cammi, I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

She’s covered in gore, her white dress now stained with the blood of a monster. I did that to her. I did this to her. It’s all my fault.