Hexed (Never After #6)

51. Enzo

FIFTY-ONE

ENZO

Gio’s laid up on his four-poster bed with a sling around his arm and a dopey grin on his face, thanks to the painkillers our on-call doctor loaded him up with after removing the bullet from his shoulder.

I smirk at him. “You feeling good, buddy?”

His head lolls. “I should get shot more often.”

“Don’t joke about that shit.”

He smiles wider at me. “You love me.”

I move my legs out farther from the chair I’m sitting in. “Don’t get sappy, Gio. I’m just saying. You’re not allowed to die on me, you understand?”

He sighs. “You love me.”

“Yeah, man,” I admit, not caring if it makes me sound like a pushover. “I do.”

“Stop it.” He wipes an imaginary tear from under his eye. “You’re making me verklempt.”

My lips twitch. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m an idiot you love .” He grins. “What an honor, honestly. Being loved by a Mafia don.”

I huff and cross my arms. “Don’t call me that. I’m just E still.”

He laughs. “Nah, you’re the big boss man now, Lover Boy. Better get used to it.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my legs. “And that means you’re my consigliere.”

He nods, his face growing serious. “You tell the families yet?”

I shake my head. “They’ll know. I left Pops’s body in front of Peppino’s grave. Paid off the cops to find him and run the news story in the morning.”

“Bold move.”

Shrugging, I run a hand through my hair. “Let them rot together.”

A twinge of pain hits my chest when I say the words, because even though I mean them…they were still family, and that type of bond doesn’t go away, even when it’s marred and twisted up from years of abuse and neglect.

But this is the way it has to be.

My leg bounces, and I pull out my phone, bringing up Venesa’s number and debating on pressing Send.

I need to make sure she’s okay. That Pops was just bluffing to save his ass. Unfortunately, because of Gio’s immediate need, I sent Scotty to the Marino to check on her and get ahold of Bastien.

Before I can even pull up his number to call, my phone buzzes with pictures.

My heart stalls when I see them, panic rushing through me like a storm surge, annihilating every other emotion in its path.

Venesa’s hotel room.

Her duffel bag on the ground near the door.

A broken decoration next to it.

A bit of blood spatter on the marble entryway.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Find Bastien. Now.

He’s not in his room, but I’ve got his number. I’ve been trying to call him.

Send it to me

Gio’s watching me with dazed eyes, and I shoot to a stand, walking over to him. Even fucked up, he can tell something’s off. “What’s up, E?”

I smile at him, not wanting to add anything to his plate when he should be focused on healing.

My phone vibrates with Bastien’s contact information coming through. “I think Venesa might be in trouble.”

His brow quirks. “And you care?”

My heart pounds in my chest, because even though I’m still pissed off at her, even though I’m so fucking angry, I still love her.

I nod.

Gio blows out a relieved breath. “Good for you, man. I just…you deserve love, you know? I love love. Love is…it’s good. It’s great even. Wish I had it. I mean, besides you loving me…which I know you do.”

Laughing, I pat his good shoulder. “Enjoy the high, buddy. I’ll be back soon. You need anything, you call Scotty.”

“You trust him enough?”

I nod. “He’s about to be a made man when I open the books.”

I’m dialing Bastien’s number before I walk out the door.

I really hate South Carolina now, and it’s not because of the actual place itself. It’s because every time I come here, it’s for things I’d much rather not be happening.

I finally got ahold of Bastien, although he never answered my call. Instead, he texted me.

Can’t answer. Aria’s off the deep end. Venesa’s in trouble at the Lair. Basement.

And then another one.

Don’t trust Fisher.

My heart is in my throat, and I lean forward, tapping the back of the cab driver’s seat, because although I got my private plane fueled up, arranging a driver to fetch me at the airport on such short notice was a no go, so here I am in a fucking cab.

“Hey, can you go faster?”

“I’m already going twenty over, guy. Calm down.”

Irritated, I reach into my pocket, pull out my money clip, and throw a few hundreds in the passenger seat. “Drive faster. Now.”

The driver glances over at the seat, and his brows shoot up. “Bro, I can’t just break laws because of money.”

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose and then pull my gun from my holster, pressing it to the side of his head. “How about now? You feel like breaking a few laws yet, sweetheart?”

His body stiffens, but he steps on the gas.

I move the weapon back and pat his shoulder. “Good man.”

Anger leaches from my bones and into my bloodstream when I think about why I’m here, and I swear to God, if they touched one hair on Venesa’s head, I will make them all wish for death.

I need her to be alive, but even beyond that, I need her to be unharmed. There are so many things we left unsaid, so much we have to do to heal, and if there’s anything the past couple of days taught me, it’s that life can be taken from you in the blink of an eye. Things can mold, and maneuver, and change, and we either learn to adapt, or we go down without a fight.

I don’t want to go down without fighting for her. For us.

The cabbie pulls into the Lair’s parking lot, and I’m out the door before he even slows to a stop, bursting through the back entrance and racing down the stairs, then pulling my gun out when I hit the bottom.

I walk to the room where I know she’ll be and swing it open.

My heart’s pounding in my ears, the ever-steady whoosh of blood pumping through veins, and my adrenaline is sending me on a high that has my vision turning red before I can even think logically about what I’m seeing.

That motherfucker Fisher is hovering over her, and everything blanks.

I don’t think. I react, pulling the trigger as fast as possible, panic spreading through me at the thought of what he could be doing, what he could have already done.

Tortured her, hurt her, cut her, injected her with her own poisons.

He drops to the floor like a bag of potatoes, and Venesa shoots to an upright position, rubbing at her raw wrists and looking back and forth from me to Fisher with wide eyes and an open mouth.

I rush over to her, my gun hanging limp in my hand and my eyes traversing every single inch of her body to look for marks.

But other than a stream of blood down her arm and raw wrists, she looks fine.

Sighing, she looks at me. “Like usual, I had it handled.”

She swings her legs off the side of the table but continues to sit, her gaze going to the pool of red seeping from Fisher’s body and then flicking away like she can’t stand to look.

“Yeah, really seemed like it,” I reply, my hands coming up to cup her face. The gun makes a clicking sound when it touches her cheek, but we both ignore it, my eyes locking on hers, relief swimming through me. She’s okay.

She’s here.

I’m holding her, and she’s trembling, her jaw clenched and her thumb working hard at the cuticle on her ring finger. I slip the hand not holding my 9mm over her cheek and behind her until I’m grasping the nape of her neck. “Fuck, it’s good to see you. Are you hurt?”

She sucks in a breath, her eyes coming up to meet mine, confusion lingering in their depths. “Would you care if I were?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Venesa swallows and bobs her head before glancing again at Fisher’s body, a frown marring her face. “He didn’t have to die.”

“I beg to differ.”

“He was letting me go.”

“After putting you down here in the first place?” I raise a brow.

I’m not 100 percent sure that’s what happened, but the fact Bastien said not to trust him and then him being down here with her all alone is enough for me to make logical deductions.

She lifts a shoulder. “We all make mistakes, and Fisher was…troubled. He did what he thought he needed to do.”

“No offense, baby, but I don’t give a fuck about him. I only care about you.”

Her bottom lip quivers, but she bites down on it in the next second. “He was still my best friend.”

My chest aches when I see her obvious sorrow. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have done the same in my position?”

“No, I would have. I just…I’m sad is all.” She looks up at me again, her hands gripping my forearms. “I’m so happy you’re here, though. I didn’t think you’d—” Her voice catches on the words.

My eyes flick to where she has red marks, chafed and rubbed raw around her delicate wrists, and I lean in, pressing soft kisses to each of them. “Don’t you ever, ever get yourself in a position like this again. Do you understand me? Scared me half to fucking death, thinking I lost you forever.”

“Like I did it on purpose?” she scoffs. “Besides, I thought you hated me.”

Is she about to cry?

“I don’t blame you if you do,” she continues.

My breathing is shaky as I press my forehead to hers, my fingers grasping her head so tightly, she might bruise, but I can’t make myself let go because I’m too afraid that if I do, I might lose her again. I just need to know that she’s real. Tangible.

“I’m pissed at you. I’m so fucking angry I can feel it with every breath. But…I don’t think I could ever hate you. Not when I love you so goddamn much.”

She sucks in a sharp gasp, tears welling in her eyes and dripping down her face. My thumbs catch every single one like they’re precious water from an untapped source.

“You’re crying,” I murmur.

“Seems you bring it out in me.” She sniffs. “I don’t deserve your love, Enzo. I should have told you, and I…”

“Baby. I just killed your best friend. Maybe we can call it even for now. We’ll deal with working through the rest later. Day by day, okay?”

She swipes at the tears rolling down her cheeks and nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She gives me a small grin. “We’ll do the adult thing and talk or whatever.”

I smirk at her, leaning down and pressing my lips to hers, solace filling me because even though we’re far from perfect right now, we’re still here, together.

And there’s hope on the horizon.

“Enzo?” she murmurs against my lips. “I’m in love with you too, you know?”

My heart skips. “You are?”

She presses her lips to mine again, and I take the opportunity, tangling our tongues and groaning into her mouth, moving one hand to the small of her back and pulling her into me.

I know she’s grieving, and so am I, honestly, but right now, I just need to feel her here with me.

There’s nothing like death to make you want to live.

“I’m not sorry for killing your friend,” I whisper, dragging my fingers down her face, then reaching in my pocket and pulling out her necklace. Slowly, I place it back around her neck, latching it and then pressing a kiss to the seashell. “But I’m sorry that it hurts you.”

She swallows, glancing at his body and then back at me. “Yeah. Me too.”

Venesa slips off the metal table and walks over to her saltwater aquarium, squatting until she finds what she’s looking for. She taps the glass and mumbles words too low for me to hear.

It’s oddly endearing to watch her in her element, speaking to her pets.

“So now what?” I ask after giving her time with them.

She spins around and looks at me, fierce determination flashing through her beautiful dark gaze.

“Now we clean up the mess here and then take back what’s mine.”