Enforcer’s Obsession

Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

Nico

I’d never been more grateful for a telephone ring than I was in that moment.

I got off the bed, careful not to look at Hope, and grabbed the phone.

“Yeah?” I said, knowing exactly was on the other line.

“ Yeah ? That’s all you have to say to me?” Don Carlo spat into the receiver.

I left the bedroom and went down the stairs, the phone pressed against my ear.

“So I take it Federico called,” I said to the boss.

“Of course he has. You thought he would buy that little stunt?”

“Well, he’s not very smart, so yes, I figured he would,” I said.

“Well, he’s not entirely convinced. He called to ask if I was behind that shit,” Don Carlo said.

“As you knew he would. And even if he suspects someone on the inside is responsible, he can’t go there first. He’s grasping at straws. There’s nothing that ties you, or me, to this. So let him twist,” I said.

“Let him twist? You think that asshole is going to twist quietly?”

“No. I don’t. But, I did what I could with the resources I had,” I said, though I kept all any annoyance at Don Carlo out of my voice.

Another part of the plan, one that I had anticipated.

Federico would strike out, try to blame someone. There might be a few more skirmishes. But the Moretti family stayed strong, we’d whether this for as long as Don Carlo held the line.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t like you forcing my hand, Nico,” Don Carlo said, his voice low with anger, but I heard the resignation too.

“I’m not forcing your hand, boss,” I said.

“You’re never going to get over that shit with your family, are you?”

“Would you?” I responded.

Don Carlo said nothing, the weight of his silence heavy over the line.

I hadn’t said a peep over the years, but I hadn’t had to.

Don Carlo hadn’t killed the person responsible for the fire. No, I’d had to do that myself. It had taken ten years, but I’d seen that it was done.

Don Carlo knew I would never forget that. My father had been loyal to him, and that loyalty hadn’t been repaid. Yet another grain of salt on a wound that would never heal.

“No, I never would. And it means nothing now, but I understand why you feel the way you do. I can’t make up for the past. But I’m not going to lose you or anyone else in this family, over this shit,” he said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means this Genovese situation ends today. I won’t tolerate loose ends, Nico. I’m not going to wait months for this to be over. You have my support. Do what needs to be done,” he said.

“I will,” I said.

I hung up the phone and started pacing.

Don Carlo was right.

He’d never be able to make up for what had happened. But giving me this leeway now meant something. And, though I knew he would never admit it, he was opening the path for the future.

He would always mourn his son, but at least in these moments, he recognized what had to happen.

Just as I did.

I went back upstairs, found Hope there, staring at me.

Her in my bed was perfection, something I’d never allowed myself to believe that I could have.

Something I knew I couldn’t keep.

“You’re here,” I said, tossing her words back at her, feeling like a piece of scum for it.

“I am,” she said. Her eyes were wide, but steady.

I scoffed. “You think that now.”

“What does that mean, Nico?” she asked, her voice even.

“You say I should forgive myself for the fire. What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“When you saw your stepfather, you became that scared little girl again.”

She said nothing, but I saw how wounded her expression was.

Hated it, but kept going.

“You probably wanted to piss yourself, didn’t you?” I said.

“No,” she said, her voice quiet, “I stopped doing that when I was eight. No matter how scared I was. That always made it worse. So I figured out how not to.”

She kept her eyes locked on mine, and though I wanted to relent, this was too important for me to let it go.

“Hope, your stepfather was nothing. Yes, he hurt you and killed your mother, but he was nothing,” I said.

“What are you trying to say, Nico?” she said, her voice calm, patient, driving me to the edge.

“As bad as you think he was, I’m worse. You think you could do that, be with somebody—love somebody,” I said, my voice deepening, “who’s going to come home with blood on his hands most nights?”

I left the question hanging there, certain of the answer.

Hope might think she knew what she wanted but she was just a stupid, innocent girl.

She didn’t understand the real world, no matter what she might have seen.

I could take advantage of that, let her think she knew what she wanted.

But as fucked up as I was, as selfish as I was, I wouldn’t.

I hadn’t been able to save my family.

I’d never be able to make up for that.

But I’d save Hope.

Even from herself.

She stared at me, and I could see the wheels turning, saw when she finally made her decision.

Braced myself for it.

“I already have.”