Page 76 of Impenitent Claim

The crack of Alonzo’s .556 rifle sounded through the warehouse. The echo was higher in pitch. Each pop was slow and methodical. He stood too close to his targets. That wasn’t how he’d hone his marksmanship.

Rolling his eyes, Gio walked to the firing line. “If a man needs a woman’s protection, he’s not a man.”

I resisted the urge to hug myself. The stone on my finger had never felt so heavy.

Spastic fire reigned as my brother obliterated his pumpkins. He wasn’t aiming for the bullseye, merely content with destruction. I shook my head silently. I could tell him to stop, offer him some pointers, but what was the point? I was his sister, fun to hang out with but not worth listening to.

Biting back the bitter disappointment, I stepped to the line we’d drawn in the sand. My choice of rifle had far more power, and the bullets were heavily packed. The .308 was originally meant for long-range, but this model had a shorter barrel. It made close range less accurate, unless the shooter was skilled.

Which I was, thanks to a certain woman.

Allowing myself to remember all the good times with my mother, I braced the gunstock to my shoulder, drew a deep breath, and pulled the trigger in rapid succession.

Gourds exploded across the shooting lane.

In a handful of seconds, there was nothing left but seeds, sinew, and chunks of orange.

“Damn, sis, you hit the bullseye every time,” Gio breathed.

“Language,” Alonzo snapped. To me, he added, “You hustled us.”

The admiration in his tone coupled with the adoring gaze in his eyes was too much. I looked away quickly.

Everything I did was so those I loved wouldn’t be hurt. But it was killing me.

I just want to breathe again.

As we packed up the weapons, I worked to push the painful memories back into their box. They were safe there, the good times untouchable by the horror of the present. I wouldn’t allow my parents’, especially my mother’s, open-mindedness to be tainted by the shallow ideas of the present.

“Are you going to tell her or am I?” Gio beamed, wiping the oil carelessly over his weapon.

I looked between the lads. “Tell me what?”

“We have a surprise for you.” My fiancé grinned. “Tomorrow night, we’re going down to the docks to the haunted ship. Giulietta Conti was allowed to come with some cousins. I’ve already booked our allotted time.”

I stilled. After the attack at the country club, the Conti family had been distant. They hadn’t sent wine, they hadn’t come for Sunday dinner. I assumed the idea about marrying my kid brother to their princess was squashed.

“You’re still coming, right?” Alonzo cut me a side look when I didn’t immediately respond.

Go to a Halloween amusement venue, act like a young person, all while knowing that my brother was being offered as the sacrificial lamb? And after another dress fitting in the afternoon? Gee, that sounded like fun.

At least I’ll be near Gio.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I wheezed, knowing my voice sounded funny. The shooting lesson might have been a complete and utter failure, but I couldn’t give up. I had to make sure Gio was as prepared as possible for surviving the underworld.

While my fiancé slung the box of his supplies over his shoulder and sauntered to the exit, where the bodyguards stood motionless, I caught my brother’s wrist. “You don’t have to marry the Conti girl. A lot can happen before you’re eighteen.”

“She’s cute, and it’s for the good of the famiglia.” He gave me a strange look.

I could have smacked myself upside the head. Not only was Gio moonstruck, but I was talking crazy. Insane. Traitorous!

Ah!How could I be so stupid?

Advantageous marriages were what built organizations like ours. Other mobs might not take arrangements quite as seriously, for which I envied them, but there was a proud tradition of us marrying tightly.

“What if a better offer comes along?” I countered. “You know, someone who looks like a porn star, not a nun.”

“Says the pious sister who veils her head and never misses a church service—even during the week,” Gio teased, pulling out of my reach and following my fiancé to the door.

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