Unholy Union Page 5

  My chest tightens, and my throat closes up. My body’s physical response to any memory of my brother is always the same. It never gets easier, not even years after his death. I miss him. I think a part of me will always miss him.

  I wipe the back of my hand across my face and take off the lid. From inside, I take out the stuffed rabbit that looks much like Sofia except that where Sofia’s ears are pink, Patty’s ears are blue.

  Patty. I had teased him so badly about that name that I’d made him cry.

  I bring Patty to my nose to see if the smell is the same, but any hint of Scott is long gone. He just smells of neglect.

  I look at the stuffed rabbit. It’s not just his ears that are different from Sofia’s. Patty isn’t worn out. He didn’t get to be loved for as long as I have loved Sofia. I should have kept him with me. Taken care of him. But it was too painful.

  Closing the lid of the box, I put it back into the closet and stack the other boxes on top of it. I stand and put Patty into my backpack.

  I know what I have to do. I have no choice. When Damian Di Santo comes for me, I will go with him. I have to. I can’t let them hurt Simona or anyone else again because of me.

  A knock sounds on my door as I set the backpack down and sigh.

  “Come in.”

  Liam walks inside, his eyes falling on the bag. I swear he’s aged tonight. That boyish, carefree look is gone.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him. After my uncle and I finished our conversation, Liam went in to talk to him.

  He adjusts his glasses. He usually wears contacts and looks like a jock, but he’s probably the smartest kid I know with a special gift for hacking into computers. It’s a secret we share. I think one of his superpowers is his ability to make everyone love him. Nobody would ever suspect him of anything nefarious, not that he’s done anything but adjust a grade or two.

  “You’re asking me if I’m okay? You’re the one I’m worried about.” He comes to me, hugs me, then brushes my hair from my face as he studies me. At five feet nine inches, he’s already two inches taller than me.

  “How is Simona?”

  “She’ll be okay. She said they were nice to her. She realized too late she’d made a mistake getting into a stranger’s car.”

  “I’m sorry they took her. I’m sorry it was because of me.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. It was my father’s.”

  “Liam—”

  “Sit down,” he says, taking a seat on the bed.

  I sit. He glances at the door then reaches into his pocket to take out my pencil case.

  “What are you doing with that?” I ask as he hands it to me.

  “I got it out of your backpack when you were talking with Dad.” Unzipping it, I look inside to find a wad of cash and my passport.

  “What’s this for?”

  “You need to leave, Cristina. You need to leave tonight before he comes back for you.”

  “I can’t do that, Liam. You saw how far they’re willing to go. Simona—”

  “I’ll take care of Simona.”

  “How?”

  “They won’t hurt us. We’re kids. And maybe Dad deserves to be hurt for what he did.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “You need to go now. I’ll take you to the train station. There’s three thousand dollars in there in cash.”

  “Where did you get that much money?”

  “One of dad’s secret stashes.”

  “What secret stashes?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you another time. Inside your passport is a credit card, too. Don’t use the card until you’re farther away just in case.”

  “Whose credit card is it?”

  He looks at me like do I really need to ask?

  “Liam, I can’t take it.”

  “You have to. He can take care of himself, and if he can’t, then maybe he deserves what he’s got coming.”

  I stare up at my cousin. I’ve never heard him talk like this about his dad. Their relationship was sometimes tense but never this bad.

  “Did you know anything about any of it?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I mean, I knew Dad ran into some financial trouble but didn’t know how he got out of it.”

  “What could they want with me?”

  “Nothing good.” He touches my hair. “Maybe we should cut this before you go.” My hair spills halfway down my back. “We don’t have time to color it.”

  “I can’t leave, Liam. They’ll hurt you if I leave.”

  He stands up, going into the adjoining bathroom. I hear him rifling around in there.

  I follow and watch as he locates the scissors and turns to me.

  “You can’t be serious,” I say.

  “My father is protecting himself. He sold you out. He sold us all out. I can’t let them take you without putting up a fight. I won’t abandon you even when my father has. Now come here, turn around. We don’t have much time.”

  I do as he says and turn so I’m facing the mirror, trying to understand this shift in our relationship. Even though he’s younger than me, this protective side of him is almost how I’d expect my brother to be if he were here.

  I watch his reflection as he lifts my hair. Watch how determined he looks.

  “I’m pretty sure this isn’t how you do this, but…” He makes a ponytail out of my hair and meets my gaze in the mirror. “Ready?”

  “Aren’t you afraid?”

  He studies my reflection for a long moment. “Damian Di Santo can go fuck himself.”

  I smile. “Ready,” I say, shifting my gaze away from the mirror and hoping for a quarter of his strength.

  He nods, and a moment later, I feel the cold of the scissors at my neck and hear the sharp snip of the blades coming together as shorter hair falls in thick waves around my face, the ends just brushing my shoulders.

  Liam lets the handful he’s holding drop to the floor, and I look at the long strands that have been part of me for so long gone so quickly. Snipped away in less than a second.

  Better my hair than my life.

  “I like it,” he says.

  My heart is pounding. I’ve never been a vain person, but as I reach up to touch my hair, feel the lack of it, I feel its loss. When I look up at my reflection, I gasp because the first thing I think is that for a moment, it was my mother staring back at me. A younger version of her. Like she looked in the photos of her and Dad together when they first met.

  I touch the uneven ends. “Don’t ever become a hairdresser.”

  He smiles, but I see the worry in his eyes. It matches my own. “We need to go.”

  I nod, but I’m terrified.

  “You need to be strong, okay? We all do. I’m going to get you out. You know I’ve snuck out of the house a hundred times,” he says with a wink. I’ve known all along about my cousin’s escapades. He’s been sneaking out since before his sixteenth birthday a few months back. I never went with him, knowing he’d get in worse trouble if I was there. I’m starting to understand why. “I’ll take you to the station. There’s a train that leaves for Raleigh, North Carolina, tonight. I already called Mom.”

  “You called your mom?” He and Simona only see her once a month, and that’s only since last year. My uncle has been pretty hard on his ex-wife, and I’ve never understood why. She’s always been warm and welcoming to me, but he hates her, and somehow, he’s managed to keep the courts on his side anytime she tries to petition for more rights to her own kids.

  Well, not somehow. I guess I know how now. Can Damian do that, though? Does he have that kind of influence? That kind of power?

  “Her address and phone number are in the pouch with the money.”

  “Your father will be angry.”

  “Fuck him. He fucked you over, Cousin.”

  I nod but I’m still unsure.

  Stuffing Patty and the pouch of money into my backpack, I sling it over my shoulder and walk out the door with my cousin. I stop in Simona’s room to g
ive her a kiss on her forehead as she sleeps, and tuck Sofia in beside her.

  Liam leads the way to the front door, pulling it closed behind me. I turn and look one last time around the dark, quiet hall, knowing that right now, this moment, this space, is a line of demarcation.

  My life before is past.

  And what’s to come will change everything.

  4

  Cristina

  I keep touching the back of my head, running my hand down over where my hair should be.

  “You got it?” Liam asks me. He’s looking up at me from the other side of the fence he just jumped down from.

  I nod, tossing my backpack to him. I’m not as fast as he is, and where he’s done this a hundred times, I’m clumsy and scared as I grab hold where he told me to lower myself down.

  “I won’t let you fall, Cris,” he says, hands closing around my waist as he eases me to the ground.

  At least the rain has stopped as I step onto moist, soft grass. I turn to face him, taking my pack back, slipping my arms into it.

  “Is this your usual route when you sneak out?” I ask, trying to make casual conversation. He peers down the street to the back exit of the building. I notice a man smoking by his black SUV with its tinted windows. I watch as he flicks the cigarette onto the sidewalk and steps on it with the toe of his shoe before looking up at our building, then climbing back into the driver’s seat.

  Liam turns to me and gives me a wink. Neither of us mention the man as he takes my hand, and we walk quickly through an alley, toward the station that is only a few blocks away.

  “It’s unreal, isn’t it? That this can happen? I mean, maybe it’s all some misunderstanding. It’s not like he can take that contract to any court of law and a judge would hand me over to him.”

  “I don’t think the Di Santo family cares much for the law. At least that’s the impression I got from Dad. They weren’t fucking around tonight. I know that. I’ll see what I can find out about them, and I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.”

  The bright lights of the station come into view. We stop, both of us looking around for another of those black SUVs or men in suits who don’t belong here.

  “I think it’s clear,” Liam says. “We’ll walk in together.”

  I stop him. “You should go back. I can go alone.”

  “No. I want to be sure you get on the train.”

  I look up at him. “I’m scared, Liam.”

  He pulls me in for a tight hug. “Nothing is going to happen to you or to any of us. Come on, you’ve only got a few minutes to catch your train.”

  The conductor blows his whistle, and the train starts moving as soon as I step on board. I walk into the first compartment and bend down to watch Liam on the platform. He sees me right away and raises one arm to wave briefly before sticking both hands into his pockets.

  I walk farther and farther back as we pull out of the station, wanting to see him for as long as possible, not liking the worried expression on his face, not liking the thought of leaving them all behind.

  This is a mistake.

  I shouldn’t leave them. These men, Liam’s right, they mean business.

  But it’s too late now. Even if I get off in Baltimore to change trains and come straight back, I won’t make it in time. Not if he truly does come for me at midnight.

  The door swooshes open, and I startle. But it’s the conductor here to check tickets.

  I find a seat and slip my backpack off, setting it on the empty chair beside mine. I’m grateful the car isn’t full. There are only about a dozen other passengers beside me.

  When the conductor gets to me, I show him my ticket. He punches a hole into it, hands it back, and wishes me a good trip. I tuck it into the pouch and take out the little slip of paper with my aunt’s address and phone number.

  Although I’m grateful she agreed to help me isn’t it dangerous for her? Isn’t what I’m doing selfish? Because no matter what, I know I’m putting them all in danger.

  Tucking the address back into the pouch and the pouch back into my backpack, I slide over to the window seat. Rain has started to fall again, and I wonder if Liam got back okay. Wonder how he’ll get by those guys at either door or if he’ll just scale the fence we went over to get out.

  I think back to that night I first met Damian Di Santo. I remember how he’d looked, but more than that, I remember the darkness that shrouded him.

  Tonight, eight years later, that darkness has become inky. Grown denser and more impenetrable.

  Finding that contract in my backpack, I take it out and study it. It’s simply written, not overly complex. And nothing changes as I read it through for the hundredth time.

  My father bought my childhood with his life. Were they really there to murder me that night?

  I put the paper back into the bag even though a part of me wants to tear it to pieces. Leaning my head against the window, I watch the lights of the city fade. I’m tired. But when I close my eyes, Damian Di Santo’s gray ones flash across my memory. Like a wolf’s eyes. A predator’s eyes. Watchful. Calculating. Dangerous.

  And beautiful.

  I groan and tuck my jacket closer, feeling suddenly chilled.

  Damian Di Santo beautiful?

  He’s a monster. Didn’t he tell me so himself?

  5

  Cristina

  An unfamiliar sound of screeching wakes me slowly. I’m disoriented, and it takes me a long minute to fully wake up and remember where I am. Remember I’m on a train heading south to Raleigh, North Carolina, via Baltimore, Maryland, to my aunt’s house. A woman I hardly know, and am not related to by blood, who is helping me nonetheless.

  I rub my face and look over to the seat beside mine, realizing I’d left my backpack unzipped. I quickly check to make sure the pencil case of money and my passport are still inside, relieved when I find they are.

  The other passengers are waking up too. Are we in Baltimore already? How long have I been out? I didn’t bring my phone for fear Damian would track it and never wear a watch, so I don’t even know what time it is.

  Cool air tells me a door has opened. From inside my backpack, I take out a knitted cap and put it on my head, then zip it back up. It’s still dark out so all I see is my own reflection in the windows. I stand and begin to make my way out of my seat.

  But when the door to the car slides open my heart drops to my belly. The man in the dark suit quickly scans the faces of the passengers. When he sees mine, he stops, and even though his expression doesn’t change, I know he’s looking for me.

  He takes his phone out of his pocket and types something in. A moment later, another man joins him. He studies me, too. I don’t recognize them from the apartment, but they could have been there. I only remember the one with the scar.

  This second man gives the order to clear the car.

  Some of the passengers begin to grumble, but he makes a point of tucking his hands into his pants’ pockets. This move pushes his jacket back and there, in a shoulder holster, we all see the shiny black butt of a pistol.

  Ice chills me.

  “Everyone out,” he commands.

  I swallow, my hands clammy, shaking as I slip my backpack over one arm. I step into the aisle because I don’t know what else to do, not because I think I’m actually getting by him.

  I’m second to last of the passengers, and I follow the others who shuffle to the door where the man is standing.

  When it’s my turn, he gives me a quick once-over, then stretches his arm out to force me backward a step out of the aisle. I watch the last passenger disembark as the door behind me slides open.

  Every hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I know it’s him. I don’t even have to turn around and see to confirm it.

  Damian Di Santo is here.

  It must be midnight.

  I don’t move as the car empties, and the two suited men at the front step out of the compartment. They remain just on the other side of the glass doo
r, leaving Damian and me alone.

  Turning my head to the window, I see the flicker of a lighter outside, the tip of a cigarette. Someone’s going to have a smoke.

  Where is the conductor?

  Damian moves behind me, and I catch the subtle scent of his aftershave. I’d registered it from the apartment. Cataloged it. Or maybe I’d done that years ago when I was a kid.

  He clucks his tongue as he approaches, and I have no choice but to face him.

  My heart races. He’s close. The train isn’t that big, and the aisle doesn’t leave either of us much space.

  I look up at him. Meet his predator’s eyes. I can see inside them that he likes the hunt.

  “This is…inconvenient,” he says, voice low and deep and now familiar. My knees wobble, and I slip into the seat closest to me because if I don’t, I’m going to fall.

  My backpack drops from my shoulder. I catch the strap absently as it rests on the floor by my feet.

  He takes one more step, expression changing as he studies me.

  All I can do is stare up at him as he takes the seat opposite mine. We’re so close our knees are almost touching, and my throat is so dry I can’t speak.

  I flinch when he reaches out and I feel him slide my hat off my head.

  “You cut your hair.”

  He touches it. My breath catches.

  “I liked it long,” he adds.

  God. What’s he doing here? How did he find me?

  No, that’s the wrong question.

  How did I think he wouldn’t find me? Wouldn’t come after me?

  “That’s too bad,” he says. He looks down at my hat. It’s worn, but it’s one of the few pieces I’d knitted when I’d taken up the hobby for all of six months.

  Damian seems unimpressed as he drops it on my lap and stands.

  “Let’s go,” he says, tilting his head toward the door. He checks his watch before tucking his hands into his pants pockets, pushing his long, charcoal coat back when he does.

  I stare up at him from my seat. I look for the shoulder harness of his gun, but he doesn’t have one. Probably doesn’t need it with all his soldiers around.