Page 48 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)

Chapter

Forty-Seven

Gavin

Fifteen-years-old

“That’s it, Rocco.” Maria bounces on my dick. “Be a good boy and make me come.”

“Coach will be here soon,” I say, glancing around the training room nervously.

“Fuck Gus.” She grabs my chin, forcing my focus solely on her. “I love you, Rocco. Tell me you love me.”

No one’s ever told me that, and I try to say it back, but the words get stuck in my throat. Instead, I thrust my hips hard, how she likes it, and her head falls back on a moan.

It all happens so fast, and yet it’s slowed down, like I’m watching it play out at half speed.

Coach appears and grips Maria by the hair, and there’s a loud bang.

Half of Maria’s skull is now gone, her crimson insides spattered on the wall.

I’m jerked up, the gun now held at my temple. “In the ring, boy. You wanted what’s mine so damn bad, let’s see you go toe to toe with the champ.”

There’s barely time to put up my dick before I puke everywhere.

“Not a big man anymore, eh, Rocco?” Gus taunts. “Let’s go. Bare-knuckles.”

I’m dragged to the ring and shoved between the ropes, the harsh fluorescent lighting making it hard for me to see.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I feel strange, like I’m hovering outside of my body. Giving my head a shake doesn’t help, and so I begin shuffling.

“Let’s get ya wrapped up.” Someone in Gus’ entourage appears, wrapping my hands. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

He disappears, and Coach eyes me down from the other corner. He’s older, he has more fight experience, and he’s pissed.

He’s pissed? The only woman in the world to love me, and Gus just killed her.

A bone-chilling laugh cuts through the gym, and I realize that sound is coming from me.

The bell rings, and we surge forward. I make the same mistakes as before, baiting him. Gus falls for it, and I clinch my arms around his, my forehead connecting with his.

Gus’ head snaps back, and I surge forward, trapping him against the ropes, nailing him with a dirty liver punch.

He tries to slow me down with a clinch of his own, but I’m too quick.

I begin pounding the side of his neck. His head’s now lolled to the side, and I place a perfect punch where his neck meets his spinal cord.

His eyes roll back in his head as he crumbles to his knees, but I don’t stop, landing an illegal punch to his head. His neck snaps violently as he goes down, and it takes three men to pull me off of him.

“Fuck, somebody call for the ring doc!”

“Too late. He’s already dead.”

It is too late, because I let loose on everyone who’s still breathing.

Taylor

Gavin’s mentally stuck in that ring, and I squeeze his hand, trying to help him return to the here and now. “Gavin, it’s alright.”

“It’s not,” he says, his eyes out of focus. “I snapped, killed everyone in Gus’ entourage. I don’t remember much after that, but my brothers came and helped me burn down the boxing club to cover things up. Except my papà found out. Somehow that fucker always knew everything.”

“Gavin, look at me,” I tell him, and his weary eyes meet mine. “You were the child. Every adult in your life failed you. That includes Maria. She groomed and abused you; that wasn’t love.”

The back of his head hits the couch, and he examines the ceiling. “I guess it fucked me up in the head more than I’d like to admit. It felt easier not to get attached to a woman after all that went down, until…” He trails off.

“Until what?” I press him.

He releases my hand, both of his falling to the top of his head. “Until you had to claw your way into my damn cranium and poke around up here!”

“You don’t think that you’ve gotten in here?” I tap my own temple.

“Taylor, I don’t want to play games with you anymore.” He grabs my hand. “I want you to be my girl, and I mean it. I’m not perfect, but dammit, I’ll try my best. Give me another chance,” he begs.

Standing firm on this, I shake my head. “There’s more you’re not telling me.”

“Still in there, poking around,” he says with a mirthless laugh.

“Tell me.”

“You’re not the only one who wore grippy socks,” he says quietly.

Gavin

Fifteen-years-old

Flames lick the roof of the boxing club as we peel out of view. “Fuck, this is bad,” Dante tells Luciano.

“Rocco, talk to us. Tell us what happened.” Luciano locks eyes with me in the rearview of Mama’s stolen SUV.

“I killed them,” I mumble.

“We got that much,” Dante snaps. “Gus was an associate of Papà’s. Our old man’s gonna be pissed if he finds out what happened.”

“Here’s hoping he doesn’t find out,” Luciano says.

“And if he does?” Dante challenges.

“Fuck,” Luciano barks, slapping the steering wheel. “Let me think about this for a second. Did you at least have a good reason?” he asks me.

“Gus murdered his wife in front of me.” I don’t tell them the rest; Maria made me swear never to tell anyone about us.

“Jesus Christ, Papà’s not going to give a shit about that,” Dante says, panic in his voice.

“He won’t,” Luciano agrees.

“He’s out with Mama at the club. Let’s go see him there and come clean,” Dante begs.

Luciano shakes his head. “He doesn’t publicly acknowledge us. That’d be the worst thing we could do.” He’s silent for a beat. “Here’s the story we’re going with if Papà finds out: tell him that Gus was making moves on you, Rocco.”

“What kind of moves?” I ask.

“Like moves moves. Tried to kiss you, and you protected yourself. And then, Dante and I stepped up and protected our little brother.”

“That’s a worse fucking plan than going to the club.” Dante snorts. “Gus landed more pussy than a fighter jet pilot. Papà isn’t going to buy that one.”

The two of them bicker back and forth as we pull up to a red light. A flashy car with blacked-out windows pulls up beside us, the window rolling down.

“Go!” I shout when I see the barrel of a gun.

Luciano peels out as shots are fired, and I hit the deck. Glass rains down on my head as I’m tossed around the floorboard like a fumbled football.

“I know that car! That was Gus’ partner from the boxing club,” I tell them, climbing back into the seat, shaking off the glass shards.

“Fuck,” Luciano barks as we barrel down the street, making a series of turns to lose them. “That forces our hand. We’ve gotta come clean. Rocco, you’re gonna tell Papà that you sparred with Gus and accidentally killed him, and then everyone turned on you, so you protected yourself.”

“Yeah, alright.”

We arrive at the club and hustle to the back door where a soldier stands guard. “Run along, boys.”

“We need to speak to the boss.”

He chuckles. “Sure you do, kid.” Moving his jacket, he flashes a gun by his side. “Run along.”

We return to the vehicle, huddling together. “We could call Mama, and see if she’ll let us in,” Dante says.

“You know she’s not going to answer.” But Luciano grabs his phone and calls her anyway, hanging up when his prediction proves true. “Let’s go home and wait.”

We get into the vehicle, a heavy silence hanging around our necks like a noose.

“I’m gonna get us killed.” Tears stream down my cheeks, and I angrily swipe them with the back of my hand.

“Nah. We’ll figure this out,” Luciano says with authority, and I nod, desperate to believe him.

We drive out of the city for a bit to lose any tails before returning home.

Pulling into the garage, Mama’s there to greet us, and she’s pissed. “What the hell is this?” she screeches as we step out of her vehicle.

“We ran into a little trouble,” Luciano starts.

“A little trouble? Is this what got your papà so upset he canceled our date?” She fumes.

Luciano and Dante exchange a silent glance.

“Where did he go?” Luciano asks her. “We need to talk to him.”

Mama slaps him upside the head. “Do not ever touch my car again. You boys will pay to have this window fixed.”

“Yes, Mama,” we say in unison.

She storms inside, and we all sigh a breath of relief.

“Now what?” I ask.

“If Papà already knows, he’ll come to us,” Luciano says. “So we wait.”