Page 22 of Vicious Behaviors
If Alejandro doesn’t make up his mind soon, he’s as good as dead.
“Children,” our father, Vincent, calls from the pew in front of us. “Time and place,” he adds firmly, ending the conversation.
In other words, we shouldn’t be discussing whacking a priest while the poor bastard is literally giving a sermon.
I glance over at a blissfully unaware Enzo, whose eyes remain fixed on Alejandro as if the man just hung the stars and moon for him.
No matter what Stella says, I won’t let her kill someone Enzo loves for something I did. I may be godless, but that doesn’t mean I’m soulless. The devil in me hasn’t completely erased my humanity. Not yet, anyway.
No. If it ever comes to it, I won’t be the blade that cuts down a righteous man of the cloth to atone for my own sins. Killing Father McDonagh was instinctual. Born from a raw, primal need to protect the people I love.
However, killing Alejandro? That would be something else entirely. That would be murder. Cold. Calculated. Premeditated. I won’t have an innocent man’s blood on my hands. And like hell I’ll let Stella carry that stain on hers.
All I can do now is have faith that Alejandro’s love for Enzo outweighs whatever guilt claws at his conscience.
When I look toward the altar again, I catch him glancing in my direction as if he knows exactly what’s circling in my head. His eyes land on me, and a frown darkens his face.
That look says it all. There’s no place for me in His house. A monster like me doesn’t deserve God’s grace, let alone the right to set foot in His church.
So when the congregation queues for communion, and the wafer and wine are passed like holy absolution, I don’t dare move out of my seat. I don’t insult him by pretending I’m worthy of it. Because Alejandro knows. Just like Father McDonagh knew it, too.
I’m beyond redemption.
And no amount of prayer or sacred communion will change that.
Chapter 6
Marcello
Sunday lunch after Mass is usually a grand affair. My father likes hosting it at the old Salvatore mansion, partly as a tradition, partly as a reminder of where he came from.
Today is no different. The long table is packed with Lourdes’ finest home-cooked Italian dishes along with a few newer plates, courtesy of Frankie, Lucky’s girlfriend.
Darius, Frankie’s brother, is present along with Father Alejandro, Enzo’s date. Surprisingly,Nonnoalso made it. I say surprisingly sinceNonnousually likes to spend his Sundays watching whatever game is on TV.
If Jude and Mina were here—along with her father and those asshole twin cousins of hers—we’d probably need to invest in a larger dining table just to fit everyone.
I like it when the house is full. It makes it easier to go unnoticed. The only time I don’t like a crowd is when a new face shows up. That’s when my hackles rise. I’m naturally distrustful of newcomers. So is the devil inside me. It takes us a minute towarm up to strangers. People have to prove they aren’t a threat to me or mine.
And when they can’t? Let’s just say they’re never seen again.
Like Stella, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my family. Protecting them isn’t just a priority—it’sthepriority.
Speaking of which…
“I ran into your new hire this morning,Nonno,” I say evenly, cutting into myporchetta. “The sun hadn’t even come up yet, and she was already working hard in your office, no less.”
Instead of the frown I expect from my grandfather, he just laughs. “Yep. That Izzie’s a real go-getter.”
Not exactly the word I’d use, but sure.
“You think it’s wise to give the keys to the gym to a total stranger and let her rifle through your things while you’re not there?”
“By the look on your grandfather’s face, it doesn’t seem like he has a problem with it. But sounds like you do,” my dad, Gio, interjects, a sly smile playing at his lips.
His all-knowing smile tells me everything I need to know. He’s fully aware of Izzie’s existence and the changes she’s making to the gym. Of course he is. Men like Gio always know what’s happening in their world, no matter how small the detail. AndNonnowouldn’t have made a move without first running it by him and my father, Vincent. I’m ashamed I didn’t consider that sooner.
“So you’re okay with this?” I turn to Vincent now. “With whatever this woman’s about to do to your gym?”
