Page 9 of Desperately Delicate Viper

I give a tight nod. “I know.”

“So, did you teach him a lesson?” Sal asks, and my jaw ticks. Understanding fills his eyes immediately. “You’re into him. He rolled your ass and you’re ready to chase after him like a puppy, aren’t you?”

I tense all over. I shouldn’t have said anything to Sal either. Uncle or not, he’s still ahead of me in the Moretti chain of command. Losing his respect could get me killed.

“Between you and me… I get it,” he admits.

“You do?” I ask slowly, waiting for the trap to snap shut around me, but he just nods.

“Having a thing for reckless psychopaths might be a family trait.” He gives me a wry smile. “So, what are you going to do?”

I leave that cryptic remark untouched and consider his question instead. WhatamI going to do about Anders? The knowing smirk on Sal’s face tells me he knows the answer before I say it out loud.

“I’m going to find him.”

He clasps my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and there’s a flicker of affection in the twitch of his smile.

“I had a feeling.”

ANDERS

I keep one hand tightly on my messenger bag as I quietly jog up the steps to my apartment. The building is a definite improvement from where we lived a few years ago. The hallway lights are never burned out, there’s no smell of meth wafting between apartments, and not once have I seen a rat scurrying around. A complicated mixture of pride and resentment swirls in my chest every time I climb these stairs.Idid this. Everything we have, including this place, is because of me. But none of it was my choice; not really.

I stop outside of my apartment door and strain my ears for any signs that my dad is still awake. It’s late enough that he should be passed out drunk in front of the TV by now, but some nights he goes hard, snorting lines of coke in between drinks, which can keep him up well into the wee hours. All I can hear is the dull murmur of the television, no shuffling footsteps or tell-tale clinking of bottles. My heart has been racing since I left Luca tied to the bed, and the last fucking thing I need tonight is to deal with my dad acting like an entitled prick. I’m bound to say something fucking rude if he starts in on me, and fuck knows how that tends to end.

I rub the phantom bruise on my jaw that has thankfully faded since the last time I reminded him who actually pays for every fucking thing we have, including all of his drug fueled binges. I undo the locks and then ease the door open slowly. A snore rattles from the living room, and I let out a relieved breath.

I still have a target on my back thanks to my dumb-ass luck of robbing a Moretti tonight, but at least I won’t have to deal with my dad’sbullshit before morning. Possibly even the afternoon, depending on how much he drank. I don’t turn on any lights as I tiptoe down the hall towards my bedroom, holding my breathuntil my door is firmly closed and locked behind me. I press the button on the white noise machine I keep near my door, then I unloop my bag from around my shoulders and drop to my knees. I fold back the shaggy rug and claw at the floorboards with my blunt fingernails, cursing under my breath as I try to get purchase. I finally manage to catch it just right, tugging the board up and reaching inside.

My fingers brush against smooth plastic, and I tug the bag out of the hole. There’s a roll of bills inside and a few other watches, none of them anywhere near as expensive as Luca’s Rolex though.

My stomach writhes. Did Luca get himself free? The knots should have given way easily enough, so I don’t know why I’m worrying about it. The image of him trembling and alone on the bed fills my mind, and I’m torn between laughing and tearing out of here so I can run back to him and make sure he’s okay. The urge to laugh has nothing to do with mocking his vulnerable position, to be clear. And that’s just as fucking confusing as almost everything else that happened tonight, because I’ve never given half a shit about anyone before. Hell, most of the dudes I pick up deserve a lot worse than being tied up and robbed.

No, the urge to laugh is because it’s fucking absurd to think that a mafioso—aMoretti—would ever need comfort from anyone, let alone me.

I chew on my bottom lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood in my mouth as I add the money and Luca’s watch to my stash. Once I’ve got it securely hidden away again with the floorboard and rug back in place, I stay on the floor, untying my shoes and then leaning back against the door. I pull my phone and see a notification with a missed text. I smile, knowing there’s only one person it could be from.

FINN: My roommate tried to set our dorm room on fire with his illicit hot plate tonight. I finally understand why they havethe rule against them. Luckily, we put it out before it could do any more than singe the carpet. Not sure how we’re going to explain the burned carpet if they ask about it once we move out though. They can’t withhold my diploma for an illegal hot plate, can they?

I chuckle, and for just a minute, I let myself get swept away from the grim realities of my life and pretend hot plates are the biggest issue I can imagine. He sent the message a few hours ago, and I’m sure he’s asleep by now, but I respond anyway, knowing he’ll see it when he wakes up.

ANDERS: Don’t stress. Worst case, they make you pay to replace the carpet. I’ve got it if you need it, like always.

I glance back at where my stash is hidden as I press ‘send’ on the message. How much can it cost to replace the carpet in a two-hundred square foot dorm room anyway? Whatever it is, I’m sure I can spare it. For my little brother, I can spare whatever he needs. For my little brother, I can put myself in the direct path of my father, letting him pimp me out without complaint on the condition that he doesn’t go anywhere near Finn. And for my little brother, I can keep a smile on my face and shield him from the realities of what I’ve done to keep him safe and happy since our mom died.

I kiss my fingers and touch them to the picture of Finn and me together that takes up the background on my phone screen. Less than three weeks and he’ll be in a whole different state, too far away for my dad to get to him. Then I can finally leave Wildcliff behind too…

Assuming I don’t catch a bullet from the Morettis first.

Chapter 5

LUCA

Rabbitlooksmeupand down curiously as I approach Wonderland for the second night in a row.

I woke up this morning wondering if last night was nothing more than a wet dream requiring the expertise of a trained mental health professional. Not the kinky sex part, obviously, but the part where I got rolled for my watch and wallet and it somehow made me like Anders even more. I’m not sure how long I spent looking over my shoulder at the reflection of my back, prodding the mouth-shaped bruises marring my shoulders, neck, and ass cheeks, reliving every hot, shivery moment of being taken apart the way I’ve always wanted, reassuring myself that it was real. ThatAnderswas real. And then I spent the rest of the day on autopilot, going through the motions as I made my collection rounds and checked in on the laundromats that serve as a front—among other businesses—for the Moretti fortune.

But this is where my mind has been since I left Uncle Sal’s in the wee hours of this morning—right here at Wonderland.It seemed like a good place to start. Anders was comfortable enough here that he must be a regular, even if he doesn’t come every night. The thought that he mightnotbe here tonight makes my jaw clench involuntarily and my fingers coil in frustration. I reach up to straighten my tie reflexively, more to give myself something to do than anything else.

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