Every muscle quivered, and I knew it was time to call mercy. How many hours had gone by? I wiped the sweat from my face and neck and guzzled some water.
Guido was on the floor of the gym, hands on his chest, eyes staring at the ceiling. Rocco, Romeo, Dario, and Donato had quit earlier but were able to walk home. Rocco was interested in getting started on the O’Sullivan prospect. He had always wanted a boxer to invest in. Even Tito’s ears pricked at the opportunity.
“I am a Fausti,” Guido said. “However, at some point, I hit a wall.”
I offered him water. He took it with thanks but set it next to him. He was no slacker, so I wasn’t sure what he was complaining about.
“You never hit a wall,cugino,” he said.
“It’s genetic,” I said. “Not my fault.”
“You have so much of Luca in you, this is why, I think. My father told me that he has never seen a man who could stand up to him. I challenge that statement.”
“Yeah,” I said. “My fault.”
The tone of my voice made his eyes snap up to mine.
“I did not mean—”
“I know.” I took another chug of water. “Me either. He’s in me, but I have the right not to become him.”
“If it is in the blood—” Guido shrugged. “Water cannot always wash it clean. I have Fausti traits as well.”
“Something to think about.” I offered him a hand up. “You hungry?”
“Ah, what is the expression? I could eat a chicken.”
I grinned but didn’t correct him. He’d been feeling self-conscious ever since Lourdes Maria Goretti made a remark about his name. Guido was a good man. It brought things into focus though. He could slit a man’s throat or snap his neck and not feel an ounce of guilt, but the woman he set his mind to claim said something about his name, and all of a sudden he watched his words.
Eunice had food out for us when we made it to the kitchen. Vincenzo was there, too. He nodded at me once. I returned it.
“Fratello.” Guido stuck his hand out and the two clasped hands and pulled forward, their faces coming side to side, their chests almost bumping. “What brings you here?”
“Scarlett,” he said, taking a step back.
Our eyes connected again. He was waiting in the wings for something to happen to me so he could move in on my wife. It was no secret.
“Did my wife eat?” I said to Eunice before taking a bite of my food.
“She had some tea and toast. Said she wasn’t hungry.” She turned and busied herself with a pot on the stove. “I wonder if she’s coming down with something?” she murmured to herself.
“You have an issue with my wife.” I took another forkful and washed it down with water before turning to Vincenzo. “You have an issue with me.”
“A woman came looking for Scarlett at Rocco’s. She found the Fausti name, and since there are four in this area…” He shrugged. “She was mistaken. But close.”
“Tell me what she wanted.”
“To speak to Scarlett.”
Fucking wiseass.
“She’s here now,” I said.
He nodded toward the window, where Nino walked a blond-haired woman toward our brownstone. I narrowed my eyes, attempting to see her better. All I could see was hair. It rose over her head like a mane, curls wild, glinting in the winter sun like gold.
“There is something else,” Vincenzo said, taking my attention away from the woman and placing it on him. “She had an argument with a man a moment before she knocked on Rocco’s door.”
“Ettore,” Guido guessed.
