“She was there. She saw the whole thing. It was self-defense,” he argues.
“Self-defense?”
“My father hated me, Stevie. We hadn’t talked in over four years before my grandfather died. And then after he did, Benny called me up, spewing the importance of family and how we missed so much time and wanted to hash things out. I was skeptical. Suspicious, even. But curious, most of all. I agreed to meet him at his downtown restaurant. He said he’d close the place just for us. So we could be alone, eat, talk, without any interruptions.”
“Oh, no, Baz.” That’s a recipe for disaster. Why didn’t Benny just wave a fucking signYou’re Walking into a Trap.
“I guess I was blind. Blindly hopeful that he had changed. But I was wrong. Dead fucking wrong. As soon as I walked into the room, I knew it was a set up. No one was there. There were no lights, no staff. No nothing. Just Benny holding a gun. I’m his fucking son!” Baz erupts furiously. “And he invited me to my death with a pretty package full of lies.”
“So, what happened?” I keep running through that night in my head. Benny told me he had a job. He wanted me there, but I had plans with Claudia. I was rebelling. I was pissed at him for forcing me out on my own and then resenting me for it. That was so Benny. Asshole with a capital A-S-S. Regina called me later that night with the devastating news. Gianni had made a move, and Benny was the target. The family had been in turbulence ever since Pasquale got sick. He had to name a successor, and Gianni apparently wanted to be it.
I blamed myself for Benny’s death. I should have been there. That’s what I kept telling myself. If I was there, I could have saved him. At least that’s what I thought all those months. That’s what I thought when I believed Benny was killed by Gianni, but Baz is telling me a completely different story. A story that doesn’t align with Regina’s at all.
“I tried to reason with him. Tried to appeal to his human side. As much as he hated me and I hated him, he was still my father, and some stupid boyish part of me held out hope that one day he’d look past all myissues”—he spits out the word like it’s disgusting—“and just seeme. See the man I’d become. See a man who loved him unconditionally and was desperate for his attention. For his approval, for his love.” I picture Baz as a child, all tousled brown hair and big green, beautiful eyes, just begging for affection. God, how I can relate. I was starved for affection my entire childhood. Just passed around like a ratty doll from foster home to foster home until I had enough. Ironically, Benny was the first one to ever give me the attention I craved. To ever really care, even if it was in his own perverse way.
“I wasn’t going to just let him shoot me. I couldn’t. He’d already taken so much. I wasn’t going to hand over my life. Not without a fight. So, I grabbed for the gun. We struggled, and it went off. Benny dropped to the floor. I barely registered what just happened when Regina popped out from nowhere, screaming that I killed him. She saw the whole thing. She fell next to Benny’s body, covering her hands over the wound. She was crying and yelling, and I was completely in shock. I had just killed my own father, and I felt . . . relieved.” He looks back at me distraught. “What kind of monster can I possibly be? I killed him, and I had no remorse. I still don’t. I’m’ glad he’s dead.” His eyes glisten with the remorse he believes he doesn’t have. I place my hands on his cheeks, torn in so many pieces I don’t think I’ll ever truly be whole again. I tighten my legs around Baz’s waist, our bodies still joined. He never pulled out, just stayed planted in place as he confessed his sins. To me, of all people. The most contradictory of confidants.
“I ran, Stevie. Like a coward, I ran, and I’ve been running ever since.”
“And Regina’s been the one hunting you?” I can barely believe I’m asking the question. Not because she isn’t a vindictive bitch, she totally is, but because she always seemed so aloof to violence and revenge. Cared less about the family business. But I guess, as I think about it, witnessing your brother’s death could have severe ramifications. Could change a person. Murder definitely changed me.
Baz answers my question with a stern nod. “It’s why we went after her that night. Gianni wanted a face-to-face. Wanted her to put an end to her manhunt. But she refused to see or speak to him. So, he ordered a stronghold. We weren’t going to hurt her.”
“And then I showed up.”
“And then you showed up.”
“And ruined everything,” I add.
“You definitely threw a kink in the plan.” Baz sniffs, breaking free from my hold. He runs a hand over his face, then scratches, trying to pull himself together.
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” he cuts me off. “I also know what it looked like.”
“Did you know it was me when you got out of the car?”
Baz shakes his head regretfully. “I had been off my meds for a while, Stevie. I wasn’t myself. I was on a warpath. I was hurt, my ego was bruised, and I was tired of hiding out. A perfect storm of pissed off was churning inside me. All I saw was red and someone in my way. Then I got closer to you. Stalked you up against the wall, and when I realized who you were, all my emotions just imploded.” He cups my face and presses his forehead firmly against mine. “I’m sorry,” he breathes dejectedly. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“You have a serious power punch,” I try to make light. He doesn’t need to apologize. Not to me. I know this business. I know the risks, the danger, and the consequences. I also know self-preservation is the responsibility of you and you alone.
Baz winces at the reminder. “I hit a fucking woman. I hitmywoman.” He sounds disgusted with himself.
“Comes with the job.” I run my lips along his jaw. “I don’t hold it against you. You’re not the first man to hit me. I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
“Don’t say shit like that, Stevie.” Baz boils with anger. “I will kill anyone who comes near you. Threatens you. Both of you.” He splays his hand over my naked stomach.
“I’m flattered.” I place my hand over his. “But I’m capable of taking care of myself. And him, and you, too.” I playfully kiss the tip of his nose.
Baz’s eyes narrow. “We’ll take care of each other. And him.” It’s not a request or even a suggestion. It’s a blood oath.
“I can live with that.” I lean in to kiss him.
“And me?” Baz asks apprehensively right before our lips touch. It amazes me how he can go from lion to lamb in the blink of an eye.
“And you. Definitely you.” I close the gap, wrapping my arms around his neck as I explore his mouth with my tongue. He moans long and deep as our bodies re-fuse. His erection growing hard again at an alarming rate.
“Baz?” I ask between hot, steamy kisses.
