Page 87 of Impenitent Claim

“Since we’re being honest,” Alonzo said after placing an order for a ridiculously gluttonous meal in the voice box. He slowly crept to the takeout window, braking behind the three cars in front. “There’s something you should know.”

I knew better than to tease his serious tone. He wanted me to take him as a valued member of the organization. I bit my tongue and nodded. His next words wiped the urge to smirk off my face entirely.

“Your parent’s deaths. I don’t think they were accidental.”

Suddenly the idea of greasy tacos and Baja Blast slushies made me want to vomit. The fast-food smell trickling through the open window threatened to choke me. The world spun, the great bell on the logo seemed to clang in my ears, and I gripped the side panel of the door to steady myself.

“What do you mean?” I struggled to ask.

Alonzo pursed his lips. “I overheard my father speaking to the underboss. From their argument, it sounded like they could have stopped your parents’ deaths. But then Tullio said something that made it sound like he arranged the whole thing. That my dad owed everything to him.”

A loud buzzing roared in my ears.

Alonzo cursed. He leaned over, grabbed the back of my neck, and pushed my head between my knees. His instructions to breathe came to me through a fishbowl, muting and distorting his voice. If only my lungs would work properly, I could master the rush of emotions drowning me.

“I can’t go back to the mansion right now,” I choked out.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Alonzo sounded panicked.

I cut a look and saw the way his eyes danced frantically about. Pulling myself together, I forced the physical reactions to cease. I could fall apart later.

I had to wait till later.

When I was alone—when I was alone and could think.

“I’ll be fine,” I gasped. “Just get the food and drive around.”

“We’re not going to be allowed to do that,” he muttered bitterly. “I’m only eighteen, not even a vetted soldier for crying out loud.”

“And we have babysitters,” I finished sardonically for him. “I know, Lonzo, I know. Just…find somewhere for us to go, okay?”

My fiancé drummed his fingers into the steering wheel. “I guess we could go to Tommy Gianetti’s. He said he’d loan me a few books.”

“Good.” I leaned back and focused on box breathing. Inhale for three counts, hold for three, exhale, and hold again for three a piece. “That’s good, Lonzo.”

“Are you mad I told you?” he whispered.

I shook my head but stopped. The sudden movement didn’t feel right given the queasy state of my stomach. “I should have known. Maybe part of me suspected, but I didn’t want to believe my father’s most trusted men could do something like that.”

After collecting the food, Alonzo sped away. I hesitantly sipped the cold, sugary drink. The fake dyes and refined sugar didwonders. By the time we pulled up at the two-story house where the capo’s son lived, I dug out a soft shell burrito.

Munching on the sustenance, I followed Alonzo inside. The guards exited their vehicle behind us, not bothering to sweep the area. I inwardly fumed at their lack of care for their job.

Trudging up the steps, I noted the cheesy Halloween décor. Plastic pumpkins were zip tied to the porch to create an arch. The fake candles inside would create quite the light display. Inflatable objects lay flat on the brown grass, waiting for the switch to be turned on so they could fill. Cotton was strung across the corner with black dots that one could almost believe were spiders if not for staring too closely.

And Mrs. Gianetti flew out of the door, covered in blood and screaming.

For a split second, I thought she was a prop. A fake housewife with motion detection to scare guests who tripped the signal on her porch.

But I knew her face. Her husband was the oldest capo in our organization, and she’d been around for most of my life, while recently she’d been a vocal participant in my bridal activities.

That wild look in her eyes was new. The blood splattered over her face wasreal. It coated her hands and was smudged on her face.

Her words to Alonzo didn’t process, but he quickly handed the frantic woman to me while he rushed into the house.

“Masked man with lifeless eyes. It’s the devil, Signorina Rinaldi. The devil has come for us!” she wailed.

I clutched her to me, feeling the warmth of her body. Blood stuck to me. Something splattered on the ground. It was my burrito, mushed beans spilling out in a garish Rorschach inkblot. The image I saw was brains.

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