Page 105 of Meet Me in Montreal

Everybody at the station house, Patrick and his brothers, the breathless reporters who’d tried coming by to get him on camera, which he’d refused to do…they were all calling him a hero. But was this how heroes felt on the inside? Like something slick and shadowy had crawled up out of that dark void within him and taken over?

He flipped through his sketchbook, at all the images of himself with that axe, and burned them. Every single one. They could be viewed as evidence of his state of mind and his intentions. And now that he’d done what real Badinellis do, not once but three times over, not just the killing but the disposals afterward, he finally understood Patrick’s warnings.

So much for Joey Fucking Badass.

Her silence over the last few days in the hospital and her first day out had told him Vanessa saw the monster too. Clearly, shewanted nothing to do with that side of him, with any of him. Hell, she’d already been done with him before he ran into that house.

After Vanessa and Everly disappeared inside the huge old home, he left. He’d already said his goodbyes to his family, his work buddies and Dom. One more night and he’d go.

In the morning, he worked on the last few items on his to-do list. He made sure to have a greasy American breakfast, considering the food in Italy was going to be exasperatingly healthy. He was in the middle of taking the laundry out of the dryer when there was a knock on the front door.

Mindful that it could be someone unfriendly on the other side of that door, someone who was a relative or associate of certain missing dead men, Santino looked through the peephole before answering. No goon could have caused his heart to jolt like the person who was standing there twisting her hands together and shifting from foot to foot.

No one else had the power to wound him as deeply or to cause a stupid, stupid hope to roll through him like the woman waiting on his doorstep. But he took that hope and crushed it into bite-sized pieces. Swallowed them down, buried them in a place where it wouldn’t cause him to do something stupid.Again. Then he opened the door.

“Hey.”

Vanessa was wearing clothes he didn’t recognize. That made sense, since most of his favorites had been destroyed. Anxiety and a generous helping of adoration were written on her face. That look shocked his senses and immediately, the pleasure centers of his body revved to life after it had felt like beaten pulp for the last few days. That insanely strong familiar pull toward her was unwelcome. Traitorous, even. And this was the main reason why he had to get the fuck out of New York.

“Hi.” She had a purse slung over her shoulder. Clinging to the strap with both hands like she was afraid it would get snatched, she peered over his shoulder at the entryway. “Are you renovating?”

“Um…yeah.”

Santino knew it was rude not to ask if she wanted to come in. Vanessa took the decision out of his hands by stepping closer suddenly, her face tilted up to his and her honeysuckle scent packing a punch that left him dazed. He backed up to get away from the heat reaching out to suck him back in and she took that opportunity to bum rush the door. Just walked right in like she owned the place, the way she owned him.

Sighing, he closed the front door and turned to see her walk into the living room. She took in the fresh plaster and paint job.

“Oh nice. I like this color,” Vanessa remarked. Still clinging to that bag like it was a lifeline instead of a fashion statement.

“Gina called it robin’s egg blue. I just thought it looked…blue.” Vanessa smiled at his comment. He didn’t. “How are you feeling? Your lungs and the bump on the head?”

“Pretty good, considering. They want me back for a checkup and if that goes well, I’m in the clear. H-how about you? Are you okay?”

She’d stammered, staring at his chest as if she’d just noticed he didn’t have a shirt on. It seemed suspiciouslynotlike the look of someone who was disgusted by him.

“Yeah. Clean bill of health. And that’s good because it means I can fly with no problem.”

“I heard. When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

Vanessa swallowed hard with a short jerk of her head. “Tonight, huh?”

“Yes.” His answer was delivered in a sound that was more like a pained hiss than a word. Despite that, he managed to smile.“Parma needs firefighters like everywhere else. You know my Italian’s half-assed, but I can get by.Acqua, fuoco, vaffanculo.”

She smiled at that. Folding his arms to restrain himself from touching her, he watched her move about the room, then she went into the kitchen, then the downstairs bathroom. Taking his silence for consent, she went up the creaky stairs to the second floor, pausing at his bedroom door, then walking in. Santino stayed in the doorway, not trusting himself to go any further as she stood by the window on the other side of the bed, looking down at the backyard.

“It needs a lot of work.” His voice was gravelly, thickened. She was outlined in clean, clear light. Too clean for his soiled hands.

“Did you hear about Carmine Spallini’s brother Joe? About Claremore, the asshole they worked for? They’re missing.”

This abrupt switch to a new topic jarred him. Santino nodded slowly, keeping his face carefully neutral.

“I heard. Good for them, getting away with almost murder.”

The look she tossed over her shoulder at him was piercing. “I guess. Would you have any idea where they would’ve gone?”

Expelling a short breath, he raised his eyebrows. “It’s probably better for you if you didn’t know. You’re not my wife anymore so, you’d have to talk if somebody asked.”

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