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

Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated the darkness that clouds my family until this past year. I’ve embraced it, used it as my personal therapy, I guess.

It took some convincing. But Gio finally let me work. He’d wanted to keep me out of the business and on the straight and narrow side of things. That shipped sailed a real long fucking time ago, though. So, eventually, he started giving me jobs, ones I could use to release some of my pent-up anger.

Truth is, with Gabe being locked up and Santo off his rocker, my big brother needed us to step up. Neither Marcel nor I complained about the work. We’ve always known it was coming. We’ve been groomed for this life since the day we were born. I know Gio copped it a lot worse, seeing as he was always destined to take over as boss. Although I doubt our father ever thought it would happen the way it did. At first, I was relieved. The day Gio killed the fucker, I felt free. It didn’t take long to realise the old man’s impact would stay with me forever.

I’m never going to be rid of the monsters. The nightmares continue to come every night, except they’re worse now. Because now I’m choking the life out of Cammi, watching her body turn grey and lifeless beneath me. That nightmare almost became a reality twelve months ago. Which is the only reason I’ve managed to stay away from her. I will not be the reason she leaves this earth before her time. It’s fucking hard living without her, but I know it’d be harder if I had to go on living knowing she wasn’t .

Okay, hard is an understatement. It’s been hell. I’ve wanted to reach out to her, tell her how fucking sorry I am. How I wish I could be normal for her, wish I could fix my issues. I’ve even gone to a shrink. Once. I ended up punching the fucker in the face and walking out after he suggested I had to distance myself from my family. He said the fact that I was still moving around in the same world they do is part of my problem. I will never leave my brothers. That’s out of the question. I would rather spend an eternity with the monsters than turn my back on my family. I’m not a danger to them. If I wasn’t a danger to Cammi, I never would have left her either.

“Where’s your head at?” Marcel asks me.

“Nowhere,” I tell him.

“Good. Get it in the game. You ready?” he asks.

“I was born ready.” I smirk before jumping out of the car. I open the boot and take out the baseball bat. “Let’s fuck some shit up.”

The thought of smashing shit makes me really fucking happy right now. Like I said, this is better therapy than any fucking head quack could offer me.

I walk up to the door of the shop, swing the bat back, and smash the bottom panel of glass. The sound it makes when it shatters is like music to my ears. Then I lift a boot and connect it with what’s left of the frame, kicking it open.

“Was that really necessary?” Marcel asks.

“I thought so.” I shrug as I step into the store. I don’t know exactly what this guy did to piss off Gio. I don’t bother questioning orders these days. I just follow them, happy for the chance to break shit. My bat comes down on the first glass counter, smashing through the top. I watch as the shards fall around the coloured gem stones beneath.

Cammi would love these. I shake the thought of her from my head.

“What the hell are you doing?” A man in his mid-fifties steps out from behind a counter. He’s the only one here. We waited for the last customer to leave about ten minutes ago.

“You know, that’s a really good question. Why don’t you tell us why Giovanni sent us to pay you a little visit?” I ask while pointing the end of my bat in the fucker’s direction. When he doesn’t answer quickly enough, I swing and hit the side of another display case. “Cat got your tongue, Joe?”

“I… I… d…d… don’t know,” he stammers out. “Just stop, please.”

“You got the cash you owe my brother?” Marcel chimes in, and I look over at him.

That’s what we’re here for? Money?

Makes no difference to me. I just like smashing shit, which is exactly what I intend to do. I bring my bat down on the next display cabinet. This one is full of pink stones. I reach in and pick up a small heart-shaped gem and pocket it before stepping back towards Joe and raising my bat again.

“Wait.” He holds out a hand, like that’ll fucking stop me. “I have it. I have Gio’s money,” he says.

“Well, where the fuck is it?” This comes from Marcel. “Hurry up. I don’t have all day and that one…” My brother gestures to me. “…can only be kept on so long of a leash before he gets impatient.”

I smile and Joe’s face pales. Yeah, fucker, you should be scared. Real fucking scared.

“It’s in the back,” he says.

“Let’s go.” Marcel follows Joe to the back while I stay behind to keep an eye on the door.

When I hear shit start to bang around, I walk over and peek inside the room. Marcel has Joe by the throat, the fucker’s feet barely touching the ground.

“Let this be a warning. Next time, we won’t be so forgiving,” my brother says and then proceeds to punch the guy in the stomach before letting his body slump to the ground.

“I would have done that, you know.”

“I’m aware.” Marcel grabs a bag from a nearby desk before tucking it under his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What’s he owe Gio money for anyway?” I ask once we’re in the car.

“Loan repayment. He borrowed funds to open his little shop,” Marcel tells me.

My hand reaches into my pocket, and my fingers rub the little heart-shaped gem I swiped. Cammi would love it. Not that I’ll ever be able to give it to her.

My phone vibrates in the centre console of the car, Dash’s name flashing on the screen. “You gonna get that?” Marcel asks.

“Nope, he can wait,” I say, letting the call ring out, only to have it start up again. I snatch up my phone and slam on the green button. “What the fuck is so important you’re blowing up my phone?”

“She’s back,” Dash says, and my heart picks up speed. No. He’s not talking about Cammi.

“Who’s back?” My words are slow, measured.

“Cammi. She’s back in Melbourne. Saw her today at student services,” he tells me.

She’s back. She’s here. In Melbourne. Where I am. She’s supposed to stay far away from me. I can’t be near her. Fuck. He could be mistaken. It might not be her.

“Yo, Vin, you there, bro?” Dash asks.

“Ah, yeah. You sure it was her?” I question him.

“Positive. She asked about you. Not in the way that would suggest she hoped the fiery pits of hell had swallowed you alive either. It was more the I hope he’s okay because I still care kind of way.”

“Riiight.” I sigh. There is no way Camile Taylor still cares about me. I made sure she’d hate me. I ignored every single text message and phone call. She even returned the car, and when I found a letter in the glove box, I didn’t write back.

“Well, I wanted you to know, so when you did see her around campus, you didn’t think you were seeing shit. It’s real,” Dash says.

“How’d she look?” I ask him, regretting the question as soon as it’s out of my mouth.

“Thought you didn’t care.” He laughs.

“I don’t. Forget it.” I’m about to hang up when his voice stops me.

“She looked thinner… and sadder,” he says.

“Thinner?” I repeat.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I don’t know, man. You should go and see her or something.”

“I can’t do that. Thanks for letting me know,” I tell him before cutting the call.

“She’s back in town?” Marcel asks, making no pretence that he wasn’t listening in.

“Seems that way,” I grunt.

“I know you have this whole martyr thing going on, Vin. But you gotta wake up and see that you’re only hurting yourself and her . I might not have known the girl well, but the brief time I did spend with her, it was obvious how much she loved you,” he says.

“ Loved , past tense. And I never once doubted that. It’s because of that love she was blinded to what being with me would really mean for her.” I run a hand through my hair. I need to get out of this car. “Pull over. Let me out here.”

“Here? Where the fuck are you going?” Marcel asks.

I pocket my phone and unclip my belt. “Out. I’ll have Marcus or Dash come get me.” We’re already in the middle of the city.

Marcel pulls over before turning his glare on me. “Don’t do anything stupid, Vin,” he warns.

“Aye-aye, captain.” I wave him off with a salute as I push open the door and step out onto the kerb.

I wait for my brother to drive off before I turn around and walk down the street. I know where I’m going. Ten minutes later, I walk into Marcus’s new ink shop. He bought this place two months ago, much to his parents’ disapproval. I love the joint, and he’s a great fucking artist.

“Do you have an appointment?” He looks up at me from his sketchbook.

“I don’t need one,” I tell him, making my way over to the chair. I strip off my shirt and lie down, getting comfortable.

“Make yourself at home.” Marcus chuckles.

“I need something.”

“What do you want?” he asks, coming over and standing next to me.

“The Eiffel Tower. Right here.” I point to a blank patch of skin on my left rib cage.

“You want the fucking Eiffel Tower?”

“That’s what I said,” I grunt.

“Fine. Give me ten.” He goes off and starts sketching my design.

I like living in the fantasy. When shit gets too fucking hard, I go back to that moment when I kissed Cammi under the Eiffel Tower as if she’d just said yes to my marriage proposal. What I never told her was that I fucking wished it were real. I wanted nothing more than for it to be real, for me to be able to make her my wife.

I pull out my phone and swipe over my GPS app. I haven’t tracked her location in a long time. The little red light comes to life, hovering right over her parents’ house. She’s so fucking close, yet so far away. I could easily go and climb through her window, pretend we’re back in high school, pretend that Paris didn’t happen.

Except it did happen. When I close my eyes, I see her underneath me, my hands around her throat.

Fuck, I need this tattoo. It’ll be a permanent reminder of everything I fucked up. And why I need to stay the fuck away from Cammi. I won’t risk hurting her again.

Marcus comes back over and holds up a sketch on a transfer sheet. “You ready?” he asks me.

“Yep, go for it,” I tell him. He places the transfer onto my skin before gesturing for me to have a look. “That’s good.”

He’s drawn the Eiffel Tower with a pile of skulls and black roses around the base. It’s fucking perfect. “Did you think it wouldn’t be?” He raises a questioning brow.

“Never doubted you for a second, bro.” I laugh. The sound of his gun whizzes to life, and I lie back and close my eyes, enjoying the sting of the needle against my skin.