I lift my gaze to his. For a fleeting moment, after Pablo uttered those words, I wanted everyone to know she was mine, including the guy I considered a brother. Then reality settled in and I remembered this life I’m living ain’t meant to be shared with a woman or . . . a child.
“She was pregnant,” I reveal, scrubbing both hands over my face. After a moment of silence passes between us, I brace myself and drop my hands to my sides.
“What do you mean,was?”
“She had an abortion.” The words sound just as foul as they did when I handed her the money and told her to get rid of it.
“Jesus, man,” he hisses. “And you said not to drink this early,” he mutters, pulling himself off the couch. I watch as he reaches for his empty glass and crosses the room, pouring himself a refill. He takes a gulp before turning back to me. “I’m guessing you wanted her to keep it?”
“I’m the one who gave her the money and told her to take care of it, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it. That part of me isn’t fucking dying inside.” I shake my head and look at him. “A baby doesn’t fit in this life.”
“Would it have really fit in hers either? She needs to get straight, man.”
“Maybe she would’ve,” I say. “She was clean from the minute she found out.” My voice trails and I sigh. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, clearing my throat. “We’re done.”
Finished before we began.
Rocco bites the inside of his cheek as he studies me for a beat. Before he can bestow any advice— which, let’s be real, he’s probably the last person who should be dishing out advice on relationships or anything for that matter— I clear my throat.
“We need to put a plan in place should any of Pablo’s men feel the need to retaliate,” I tell him. The worrisome look on his face dies and he shakes his head.
“According to Vic, that won’t be a problem.”
“And why is that?”
Before he can answer, a knock sounds on my door. Raising an eyebrow, I turn and stare at the door.
“You expecting any visitors?” Rocco questions from behind me. Shaking my head, I start for the door. I peer out the peephole to see who it is but I can’t make out anything. Glancing over my shoulder, I motion for Rocco to get my gun from the safe. Instead, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out his own. With a jerk of his head, he gives me the green light to open the door and aims his gun.
My hand closes over the knob as the mysterious person on the other side of the door knocks again. Rocco moves to stand behind me and as I pull open the door, he cocks his gun.
“Don’t shoot!”
CHAPTER 6
JOAQUIN
“Violet,” Rocco murmurs, quickly lowering the gun. I divert my eyes to my sister, watching as she slowly peels her hands away from her face. Swallowing, she stares wide-eyed between me and Rocco, her gaze lingering on the gun still in his hand.
“Put that shit away,” I growl, reaching out to pull her into the apartment. Snapping out of his trancelike state, he tucks the gun back into his jacket pocket. Violet doesn’t move away from the door once I close it and for a moment, I wonder if my twenty-year-old sister is in a state of shock.
Being eight years younger than us, Violet was just a kid when Rocco and I started running wild on the streets of Brooklyn. I don’t even know if she remembers his father getting deported or when he and his family moved to Italy. I don’t think either of us paid her too much attention when Rocco returned from Italy either. She was an annoying teenager who got in our way until she wasn’t. It was like I blinked and suddenly, my little sister who snuck out of the house to follow me and Rocco was a young woman auditioning for the New York Academy of Ballet. There was no ignoring her anymore, she was destined for bright lights and stages across the world.
“Vi, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me?”
Her gaze snaps to me and the shock flees her face as she narrows her eyes.
“Why didn’t I call you? I’ve been calling the both of you for two days,” she snarls, glaring between the both of us. “I guess you’ve been too busy shooting shit to answer me, though.” She looks at Rocco. “I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before. You really know how to welcome people,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
“Glad you enjoyed it, Bug,” he quips, flashing her a smile. I almost laugh at his use of the nickname he gave her years ago, but then I notice the way his eyes rake over her.
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.
“You never used to mind,” he reminds her.
“I’m not twelve anymore, Rocco.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
