Page 16 of Confession (Constantine Brothers #2)

FOURTEEN

Quinn

I really don’t want to be stuck in a car with Vitali right now, but I meant what I said. He doesn’t get to do shit without me, not after the stunt he pulled.

The silence is heavy, but it’s better than talking. I’m not in his weight class on that. He always gets the better of me.

I park the car well down the street from the DiMaggio’s club. Vitali gets out the night vision binoculars.

While he’s looking through them, I stare at his profile. Streetlight softly limns the lower half of his face. Why does he have to be so damn beautiful?

Vitali lowers the binoculars and looks at me, catching me staring. It’s too late to look away, so I hold his gaze.

He asks quietly, “Are you okay?”

It’s such a dismissible question. I should just say yes or I’m fine or even fuck off . But for some goddamn reason, my insides twist up and choke me and I can’t answer him.

No, I’m not okay.

He saw. I know he did. Maybe not the full truth but certainly the edge of it. Because the only way he could’ve taken control of me so easily when I was that angry was by seeing through it, seeing what Ireally needed.

And what he saw was that I needed him .

I needed his body against mine, needed his cock inside me to ground me and make me feel like everything was fine, that we were both there, safe.

It’s bad enough that he saw that need because it makes me feel so exposed, but what’s even worse is that he answered it.

I’m not grateful for that. I’m really fucking angry.

Not with him, not exactly, but in general.

I’ve worked so goddamn hard to teach myself that I don’t need anything, that I’m fine just like I am, on my own.

I can endure whatever I have to. I know how to isolate myself, how to make a wall around myself like I’m a goddamn castle.

That’s how I’ve learned to survive. It’s the only way I know.

And I’ve lived just fine with Vitali for years. I know exactly how to be in love with him from within my isolated space. But I don’t know how to be in love with him like this, with him constantly breaking through my carefully built walls.

And it’s not even that I’m afraid he’ll realize that I’m in love with him. What I’m really afraid of is how my need for him, which I’ve kept small and controlled and invisible for years, is exploding into something way too big, something beyond my ability to control.

So, no, I’m not okay, and now too much time has passed since he voiced the question for me to pretend that I am.

So I grab the binoculars from him and focus on the DiMaggio club. I’ve been inside Arete a few times, and it’s just as boring inside as out. Outside, it’s a typical Bostonian brick building. Inside, it’s a stuffy supper club full of cigar smoke, rich old men, and women that are too young for them.

“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” I observe. “I don’t even see any of Gavino’s known vehicles.”

Vitali takes the binoculars away from me. “Let’s check his yacht. It’s the most likely spot.”

“Most likely for what? You obviously have some theory that you’re not sharing.”

“It’s what I would be most likely to attack if Gavino were present.”

“We should attack him after what he did. The warehouse then the shipment? Not to mention Alesso sending his thugs after you when we met with Mickey.”

Vitali settles against the door so he can really look at me. “Speaking of. Did you know that Leo Pedano was found dead?”

“I hadn’t heard that,” I reply as I start the car.

“You’re not going to ask me what happened to him?” Vitali inquires as I drive.

“It’s not hard to guess that he was murdered. Probably by Alesso for failing to kill you, which means Alesso got shit from his father for nothing.”

“Rumor is that Alesso and Leo were lovers.”

It’s more than rumor. It’s true. Obviously, I can’t tell Vitali how I know that.

I say, “Then maybe Gavino ordered it to punish his son for breaking the rule. Who cares?”

“I care. Family drama. Who’s fucking whom. Who needs to be silenced. All of that affects the equation.”

My heartrate is way up, but I’m used to controlling my voice around Vitali, so I manage, I think, to sound disinterested when I say, “Well, computing all that is your department, not mine. I flunked math.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m a high school dropout, Vitali.”

“You never told me that. And that’s not the same as flunking.”

“It basically is.” I drive a few more blocks then pull over. “This is the closest I’m gonna be able to park.”

“Then let’s walk.”

I grab Vitali’s arm as he starts to get out. “Tell me what we’re doing first.”

“We’re taking an evening walk, Quinn.” He grins. “And looking for the FBI.”

He pulls away from me and gets outs, leaving me grumbling in the driver’s seat. I don’t know why, but he’s being a dick on purpose, playing some kind of game, deliberately irritating me.

We walk a few blocks to the marina. DiMaggio’s boat is docked in the outermost slip.

Sultry Italian jazz floats out from the well-lit deck where people are gathered for a party.

Standing prominently at the railing is Gavino DiMaggio.

His daughter, Cecilia, dressed in glossy black, stands beside him.

I can see all that even without the binoculars.

“What an absolute honeypot,” Vitali observes in a wry tone.

Frowning, I take the binoculars from him, quickly skimming over the DiMaggio yacht to the neighboring one, which is dark and quiet and seemingly empty—but I pick out three hidden figures.

I lower the binoculars. “DiMaggio wants you to retaliate. Expects it.”

Vitali shrugs. “I’ve retaliated before. He knows I can be hotheaded. I think that’s part of the reason he’s been making such small, annoying attacks. They cost him very little, but if I fight back, the FBI nabs me and I’m out of the way.”

“Fuck,” I mutter then register the rest of what he said. “Part of the reason?”

“I think Gavino is sick, maybe dying. I think that’s why he’s trying to finish this but is doing it in such a passive way.”

“Seriously?”

“I can’t be sure, but he didn’t look good when he came into Eclipse. Then there’s Alesso.”

My heart skips. “What about him?”

“I don’t know. Something’s not fitting into the equation. But whatever it is, I haven’t figured it out yet.”

He turns and starts walking back to the car. His silence is different now, more inward.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask when we’re back in the car. “About your theory.”

“Because I wasn’t sure.”

“Did you have to be sure to tell me?”

“I guess not. I don’t know.”

He’s in a strange mood, one I don’t understand. He’s upset, maybe a little depressed. Did I do this to him? Maybe, but I’m not the only factor here, and this isn’t the first weird thing he’s done today.

The risk he took this morning—I’m still furious with him about that.

I still hate that he held me back from it.

But I’m not the only one he held back. He didn’t let Joe take his place either, and he apparently tried to kick Roman out of the vehicle as well.

Vitali can be reckless, but that’s a little extreme even for him.

“What’s going on, Vitali?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“You’re being reckless.”

“Reckless?” He’s offended. “Look how fucking careful I was tonight. They set a trap for me, which I did not fall into.”

“Solo, then. You’re trying to work solo.” When he looks out the window, I know I’ve hit on the truth. “Vitali. Why are you trying to work solo?”

“Because it’s my sole responsibility, Quinn.”

“What is?”

“All of it.”

I drive in silence for a few miles as we leave the city, trying to figure out what he means. He’s too difficult to argue with. He can run circles around me. I have to step back and see the whole picture.

I ask, “Are we talking about your uncle?”

His audible exhalation is my only answer.

I say, even though I know he won’t take it well, “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for what Anton did.”

“I don’t blame myself for what he did. I am, however, responsible for my failure to notice it.”

“Vitali—”

“Watch the road, Quinn.”

I don’t say anything the rest of the way home. Vitali needs the silence, and I need to think. When we get back to the house and I park the car, Vitali gets out and walks away.

I walked away from him earlier today. He let me, and I’m glad he did. I needed him to let me. But what he needs is the opposite. So I follow him.

I stay back a good distance like maybe I’m heading somewhere else, but when he takes the stairs to his room, which is an upper corner of the house, it’s obvious what I’m doing. But he ignores me. He goes into his room and closes the door.

I hesitate outside it. I’ve never been inside Vitali’s room.

I’ve never inserted myself into his personal life.

I observe it, constantly, and sometimes he’s let me into it, like when Nonna Maria died, but I’ve never pushed.

I’ve been so damn careful not to. And even though we’ve been fucking, it’s been him pushing at my boundaries. He’s had me constantly on the defense.

That’s why he’s closed this door. Because if I open it, if I go into his space, into his life, I’m the one changing things. I’m proving that this isn’t just sex like I’ve been trying to tell myself.

I take a deep breath, then I put my hand on the knob and open the door.

In the first few seconds, the room distracts me because it’s fucking palatial.

That’s not exactly a surprise in this house, but Jesus.

The enormous bed sits atop a raised platform at one end of the room.

There’s a recessed floor space in the middle with sleek couches and a coffee table.

A huge TV spans one wall. There’s a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows and the enormous deck that I’ve seen from outside.

There are potted plants, which surprises me, and a minibar, which does not. That’s where Vitali is.