Chapter 19
I thought we were over this.
Piccola Peste
You thought wrong.
Why would I ever make it that easy on you?
Iscoffed,halfamusedat her audacity, the other half impressed with her tenacity. The girl was stubborn to a fault and knew how to hold a grudge better than the most bitter of men. Somehow, she was growing on me, like fungus on a tree. I glanced down at the piece of torn notepaper in my hands, mailed in an anonymous postmarked envelope, just like all the rest.
HYPOCRITE
You’re the reason I’m always on guard. You give only because you take away. Your heart is made of black ice that no amount of kindness can thaw.
A ninth letter now to match the nine months since my father and her brother died.
I snickered. Her spirit remained strong despite her experiences. Good for her. Undergoing hardships made life worth living. Living through moments of suffering made it easier to appreciate and enjoy the good, as long as the bad didn’t swallow you whole.
Ms. Ainsley Willow Burch didn’t let life beat her down. She didn’t let defeat drive her, no matter how reckless it made her. She fought. She gave herself goals. She pushed forward. I admired that, enough to want to hone and mold it. In time, shewould be stronger for what she’d been through and a force to be reckoned with.
“Another letter? Are you sure it’s still a good idea to adopt her?” Vinny eyed the thing with distrust. He clamped his mouth around his cigar to free his hands to discard a card and draw a new one. Then he tapped the cigar against the ashtray, a line of smoke drifting upward. “The number of things she could overhear. What she could spy on. I don’t like it.”
“Noted,” I said, placing my cards face down.
“It’s not too late to turn back. It’s only been a month since the paperwork was filed.”
“All in.” I shoved my poker chips to the middle of the table. “She’ll understand things with time. If anything, adopting the other two as well works to my benefit. They’ll keep her in line.”
“How are the little urchins?” he asked absently, his gaze jumping between Tore, his cards, and me.
“Getting healthy. More 3D now.”
Tore chuckled on the other side of the table and tossed his chips in, one by one. Then he added one of his favorite collectible lighters to match the last bet. “A father of three. Who would’ve thought? I still don’t see the benefit of all this though. Not really effective as a punishment for your car.”
“It’s not. It’s an investment for her loyalty. Just because we’re in a difficult line of work doesn’t mean we need to lack heart.”
“Just call it what it is. You’re bored.”
“I fold.” Vinny tossed down his cards.
“You invested everything in finding Persetta, and now that she’s getting married and the French bastard will be your brother-in-law, you’re at a loss about what to do. So…” Tore turned over his cards to reveal a full house. “You’ve taken on an urchin and her little fishies to keep busy.”
Vinny and I exchanged hard glances.
“You’re one to talk about keeping busy,” Vinny deadpanned. All of Tore’s free time was spent partying and womanizing.
Tore shrugged and reached for the pot, ready to scoop the winnings.
“Not so fast.” I set down a straight flush, enjoying the purse of Tore’s lips. I picked up the lighter from the pot. “This is mine now, but split the chips back up between us.”
He cracked his head to the side, irritation lining his features. “You all packed to leave tomorrow? Hard to believe little Persetta is getting married.”
I took a heavy, blasphemous gulp of my grappa, imported directly from Italy, not even tasting the flavor on the way down. Of all the decent, capable men out there, my sister had to fall in love with the same damn French prick who broke her heartyears ago. I slammed my glass down, a few drops flying onto the green baize of the table.
“Oh, come on, cugi,” Tore groused, shaking a drop off his hand.
If I found out that her fiancé was manipulating her into this wedding, I was going to rip his throat out and shove it up his ass. If he was taking advantage…if he hurt her…if he so much as made her cry, he’d rue the day he ever met her.
