When I walked into the living room with Gideon, neither he nor Jonathon wasted time starting their own investigations. When they brought out their computers, I knew I was no longer needed.
It's not that I wasn’t good with them. It was just that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. My family did most of the family investigations unless I was needed to physically talk to someone, which basically meant for me to use whatever resources I had to get the information.
I wasn’t smart like them.
Smart like my woman. I was a lab monkey compared to her.
What I was good at, was using my hands. Unlike them, I didn’t rely on computers or databases to tell me what I needed to know. I had learned the art of smelling bullshit a mile away. I could tell by looking at someone when they were lying or telling the truth. It was a lot like poker in a way. All I needed to find was their tell and then they were mine.
Computers, books and tech shit never interested me. That’s probably why I had such a hard time in high school and college. I just didn’t get most of it. Oh, I understood the basics but everything else was like running fifty miles an hour at a brick wall. It got me nowhere.
Now I was surrounded by all this tech shit and I was lost.
What I wanted was someone to point me at someone so I could pummel them to death. I hated just sitting here, doing nothing. Relying on others to tell me what was going on.
“There’s a gym, if you need it,” Jonathon said, looking up from his computer. “It’s the third door on your left down the hall passed the kitchen. There are also clothes and towels in there for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, getting to my feet, ripping my shirt from my body. I could already feel the adrenaline pumping. The need to beat the shit out of something or someone was fierce. Seeing the room, I grinned.
Quickly changing into some gym clothes and wrapping my hands in tape, I walked over to the punching bag. Moving my neck around, I jumped in place a few times before I hit the bag as hard as I could.
The burn fueled my vengeance while I obliterated the bag, hit after hit, as images of the last week filtered into my head. Donatella showing up at my family’s house. Her drugged and almost raped. Luca’s brain splattering all over her. The night we first made love. The disappointment in my family’s eyes when I told them I didn’t trust them. Seeing Bullseye. Her fucking aunt. Everything. All the lies and deception, everything.
Hitting the bag repeatedly, I took all my frustrations out on it, knowing I would kill someone if they were before me.
Everything I thought important to me my whole life was nothing compared to her.
She was my main concern.
She was the very breath in my body and I would kill anyone who dared take her from me. There would be no place on earth they would be safe. I wanted so much to give her the life she deserved. The need to fulfill that for her was all-consuming. I just didn’t know how to go about that. It seemed everywhere we turned, we found deception. There were so many players around us, each wanting one thing from me.
My woman.
They were willing to kill to get to her all because of what she had in her head.
Hitting the bag harder and harder, sweat dripped down my face and back as I pummeled it. I imagined the bag was everyone who wanted to harm her. Mainly, I imagined my own face. My own failures, insecurities and my inability to protect what was mine.
“Would you look at that Eduardo,” I heard Nico say. Breathing heavily, I stopped hitting the bag and turned to find my cousins standing there, grinning. “He still hits like a girl.”
Eduardo solemnly shook his head. “What can I say? We tried brother. Some girls never grow up to be a man.”
For the first time in weeks I was happy. I’d never been so happy to see my family. I didn’t even give a damn that they were picking on me.
They were here.
They came for me.
Dropping to my knees, I cried. For the first time since I was twelve, I actually cried. My cousins rushed to me, their arms wrapping around me and holding me as I finally cried for everything.
I cried for Donatella.
I cried for my mother.
I cried for my family.
I was the family fuck-up and they still came.
They came for me.