Page 97 of Demon's Angel

I put her at ease immediately. “Changed, fed and now being amused.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Violet

After being saved from being raped for the second time by Angel, after the commotion at the clubhouse, Mo and Hell’s home seemed at first a hive of activity while the club girls and old ladies sorted themselves out, then an oasis of peace. Refreshments seemed the order of the day. Though I could feel the adrenaline that had kept me going for the past day disappearing, I’d tried to help. With her sharp eyes Mo had realised I was fading and pointed me to Demon’s old room. I made no protest.

Having laid Theo down, I stretched out on the bed beside him.I thought I’d lost him today.It was at that point I broke down. Sobbing quietly with my hand stuffed into my mouth so I wouldn’t disturb him, I relived the terrors in my mind. I suppose I must have been exhausted, a night with no sleep, and not much the night before, for two totally different reasons. Eventually, with tears still wet on my face, I must have gone to sleep.

Vaguely aware of someone lying behind me, I’d woken from a bad dream starring Angel threatening my son. I’d heard Demon’s voice, but it had been his aroma inhaled with each breath which had done most to help me settle. I’d let myself relax into sleep once again, this time without dreaming.

I’d only just awoken and noticed Theo was missing, when Demon appeared, as though I’d summoned him.

“Changed, fed and now being amused.” He eases my mind, knowing instinctively what I need. I wonder who sorted him, then put it to the back of my mind as Demon stalks toward me. His hand reaches out and lifts my chin, and his dark eyes flare as they look into mine. “Vi,” he chokes, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Angel should never have gotten to you. I didn’t do enough to protect you.”

He did. He saved me. He saved my son.

“Angel?”

“Won’t be breathing much longer. That’s if he’s still alive now. He went against his family, Violet. Set up his father, wanted to become boss.”

I shake my head, unable to talk about the details, some of which I already know, some I expect I’ll learn. At present it’s sufficient to know he’s no longer coming after me.

“He told me this story, D. A story about my father.” An unbelievable tale.

Demon comes over and sits beside me, taking my hand in his. “I know. Vi, I don’t know what Angel said, but I can guess. I’m sure you don’t want to credit it, but I’m afraid what he told you was true.” He takes a deep breath. “Vittore Parma was the don for a rival Mafia faction. There was a power struggle, and Parma was involved in trying to take Lucio out. Instead, Lucio’s son was tortured and killed. Angel witnessed it, well, he saw how his brother was returned. He vowed revenge.”

“No, my father wouldn’t…”

“The Silvestri came out on top. Vi, Don Vittore Parma disappeared and wasn’t heard of again.” He passes his hand over his face as though he’s exhausted, and he must be, too.

But I need answers, so I press, “It’s impossible…”

“Parma was a don, Vi. Just like Lucio. But once he stepped down, he lived a normal life, lived his cover and blended in. Your mother, she was also Italian.”

“Mom is American as they come,” I scoff.

“Blood, Vi, blood. Doesn’t matter what language you speak. They were second-generation immigrants, brought up not to stand out. Your father made good use of that, changed his name, and built a life. Yes, he was an accountant. Maybe his eye for detail helped in both roles. But those trips he was taking? Those were so he could undertake his other duties. Until the wrong man was killed.”

“How did Angel find out?”

“Lucio accepted his son had been caught in the war. He was upset, yes, but sensible enough to know it could easily have been someone on the other side who was killed. Were things different, it might have been Parma’s son, your brother, who had been murdered instead. Part of why Parma kept his identity secret was to protect his kids. Angel, however, isn’t his father. He wouldn’t let it drop. As he rose in the organisation, he suddenly had the tools that he could use to satisfy his desire for revenge.” He pauses again, shaking his head. “Technology’s evolving all the time. It’s becoming easier to find things out, delve into old records. Somehow, somewhere, he found the links between the names Parma and Palmer.”

“If this is true,” I ask, my brow creasing, “why didn’t my father change his identity better? Go for a completely different name?”

Again, his head makes a negative gesture. “I don’t know, Vi. The only thing that makes sense is that it was easier not to slip up. Someone asks his name? Parma and Palmer are similar. Same with Victor and Vittore, he’d always answered to Vic. His initials were the same. His ability to pass for an American… Hell, Vi, I look more Italian than your dad.”

“You don’t have Italian roots?” I ask suddenly, the question surprising me.Would it bother me if he had?

“No fuckin’ idea,” he replies. “But none that I know of. Who the fuck knows what mix we have in our DNA.”

I need to process that what I thought were Angel’s lies might be true. The man I’d looked up to, loved with every fibre of my being, had been a Mafia don? Responsible for killing people? Maybe involved in crime like the Silvestri? It’s too much to take in.

“Vi.” Once more, Demon gently raises my chin. “Your father protected you by making sure none of his dirt fell back on your family. He did what he did to keep you safe.”

“It didn’t work, did it? And Theo is the result.” I bite my lip as I think what else Angelino had told me. “Angelino admitted Theo might not even be his son.” My head falls into my hands as I process the implications of everything I’d heard while I was held captive. “I was unconscious, D. Raped. By two different men. I don’t even know who’s the father.”

“The other man is dead. Angel went ballistic when he found out.”

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