“Do you really believe that, son? That ‘innocent’ and ‘Luca’ can be worked into the same sentence? I’ll change my way of thinking right this instant if your answer happens to be yes.”
“No,” I said, not able to lie. Nor did I want to. “But you mistake my meaning. If Luca didn’t kill the sheriff’s wife, he is innocent of that particular crime. Does one less sin make him innocent?” I lifted a shoulder and then let it fall. “I’m not here to judge. Which apparently the sheriff felt enough cause to do—be judge and jury over another man’s life.”
I leaned forward, bringing my hands together, eyes solid on the man sitting across from me. “If Luca Fausti didn’t kill the sheriff’s wife, tell me who did.”
He nodded. “That’s why I’m here. You’ll be the judge. This time.”
* * *
“Fratello?”
I turned around at the sound of Romeo’s voice. I had been staring out of the kitchen window, at the rows of rose bushes in our backyard. The rock that I had given Scarlett for her birthday sat in the garden, a redbird sitting on it, preening its feathers in the sunlight.
Everett was in the front room with the rest of the men, preparing to watch a much-anticipated boxing match on the television. He hadn’t left after the story was over—he watched me carefully, maybe afraid that I’d do something that I’d regret.
As it turned out, the matter of who killed the sheriff’s wife and her unborn child wasn’t as clear as I’d hoped it would be. A thin line separated the crime by a slight technicality.
Staring at Romeo, I had no notion of what to do. If my brothers knew, it wouldn’t be a matter of when the war started, only how it was going to end.
No matter how we all felt about Luca Fausti, the fact of the matter still stood—he was our father, whether we liked it or not. As close as the Stones were, so were we. Our family operated by certain rules, avenging the truth being one of them.
The truth was so much to consider that I considered not thinking at all. There were so many small factors that were involved in this beast of a situation, and I wasn’t sure which strand of the bloodied web to follow first.
No, this war wouldn’t be started because of what Luca did or didn’t do, but on the truth alone. He should’ve gotten a fair trial, to have all the facts considered.
I doubted that the facts would’ve made much of a difference in a courtroom; no judge in this parish, considering the nature of the crime and its victims, would’ve even entertained the notion of letting him go.
The thought led me to Marzio. He could’ve easily hidden his son in Italy. But that wasn’t what the Faustis were about. They were about honor—and there was no honor in hiding a man who had done wrong to a woman and her unborn child.
If it were your wife and child?I asked myself for the hundredth time. There would be no law on this earth that would stop me from taking revenge. But where the sheriff took comfort in Luca being locked up, I’d only take comfort in the idea that the man who killed them would be in hell, and maybe we’d meet again.
I couldn’t live without my wife. I’d almost had to face that reality, when Nemours almost killed her when he killed our son.
“Is it Scarlett?” Romeo asked in Italian.
Her name brought me back to the moment. I shook my head. “No, she’s fine. Nino called five minutes ago with an update. They’re all eating dinner and listening to music at Brûler.”
His eyes narrowed, and he nodded once. “I know all of that,fratello. Tell me something I do not.”
“Male ducks have dicks shaped like corkscrews.” Mitch ambled in, squeezing Romeo’s shoulder. “When he mates with a female that doesn’t like him, he goes in clockwise, and her oviducts twist in the opposite direction. Therefore giving her the choice to cut off his lineage by not allowing fertilization.” He shrugged. “I bet you ten to one you didn’t know that.”
“A corkscrew?” Romeo’s fierce eyebrows came down, not understanding.
“Here—” Mitch moved further into the kitchen, looking through drawers. He opened one, moved a few things around, and then shoutedah ha! “This thing.”
He held up the T-shaped tool, demonstrating how a duck cock moves. Romeo started laughing, explaining that he knew what a corkscrew was, but his confusion came over how it worked—between ducks.
This conversation attracted the men from the front room, and Mitch started to go into more specific detail, eliciting crude remarks and laughter.
I nodded to Mitch in silent thanks and then made an offhand comment about needing more beer. I hopped on my Ducati, making sure the extra helmet was hooked to the back, and allowed an unconscious undercurrent to pull me in the right direction.
The sleek bike was the color of night. It purred underneath me, as fast as a cheetah. I stopped at a red light, removed the helmet, and wiped sweat from my brow. Though the weather was cool, my unease seemed to keep stoking the wildfire inside of me.
My phone rang, and as the bike idled at the red light, I removed it from my pocket. Before I could even answer, her sweet voice came from the other end. “Brando?” I heard light music in the background.
“Everything okay, baby?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Everything is fine here.”
