Page 24 of Sins of the Orchid

Santi gently tugged on my hair again. “You can, but only if you behave.”

The admission made me feel somewhat lighter. Maybe Dad was right all these years, saying that talking about demons would help. Yet, the words never left my mouth until now, and the little information I shared with Santi hadn’t destroyed me. Yes, my heart ached but it didn’t leave me feeling raw and torn apart. I still had a long way to go, but tonight, for the first time, I felt hope that I could handle it. All of it.

I leaned over and started playing with the radio. Sia’s “Cheap Thrills” came on and I smiled.

“Ah, look at this,” I murmured teasingly. “It is a Friday night. The only thing I didn’t do was put makeup on.”

“You’re too young for makeup.”

“I’m sixteen,” I retorted dryly.

“Exactly my point. A kid.”

I decided not to answer. Nothing I said would convince him otherwise. He’d come back with another smartass comment.

The tunes played and we both got lost in our thoughts, until I realized I didn’t recognize the neighborhood. “My grandmother’s place is on the Upper East side,” I told him.

“I know. I’m taking a backway.”

It looked to me like he was taking the long way home, but I didn't want to point it out. The idea of spending more time alone with him appealed to me.

I wasn’t surprised he knew where Grandma lived. Santino Russo knew everything about everyone. At least that was what Luigi always said. Unlike Lorenzo, Luigi was hot-tempered, and unfortunately his motto, shoot first, ask questions later, didn’t help his case. I loved him, and he would do anything for me, but my eldest brother was a disaster waiting to happen.

He told me once that despite his reputation as a badass, the people he killed left a mark on his soul. I asked him why he didn’t think before killing someone. His answer was better to kill than be killed. He just said he’d have to live with a black soul. His reasoning was slightly disturbing, but it seemed to be how men in the underworld lived.

Lorenzo, on the other hand, was calm and level-headed. He was liked by all, but his lack of intensity made people feel at ease around him. It definitely played in his favor with the ladies. So, it was no wonder I was much closer to Lorenzo. Sometimes the intensity of my other brother was a bit too much. I guess it would make him a good don one day.

“I’m sorry you had to kill another person,” I blurted out, my voice small. “I’m sure you didn’t need this tonight.”

He threw me a side glance and then returned his eyes to the road. “I’m not sorry. Better him than you.”

Maybe the people he killed didn’t leave a mark on his soul.

“You know, I heard that talking about it helps,” Santi said softly.

“Does it help you?” I asked him curiously.

“To be honest, Amore, I never felt the need to talk.” Somehow his admittance didn’t surprise me. “But you are different. A better person than I ever was. So, I think talking would help you. So that you can put it behind you.”

Underneath the killer suit, Santi was a good man. I never talked to anyone about what had happened, not even Adriano. I just couldn’t speak the words. Yet, somehow, this evening, Santi had me saying more about it than I’d said in the last three years.

“I try not to think about it,” I admitted in a hushed tone, my eyes focused on the road in front of us but not really seeing it. The images of Mom’s brutal murder haunted me, but I still tried to shove the memories into a deep, dark corner. Except, every so often, they revolted and slammed into my brain. “Th- the images… they give me nightmares. I know it’s stupid.”

Santi’s hand curled around my own hand, that had been resting on my thigh and scrunching the material of my dress, threatening to shred it. The moment his hand covered mine, calm washed over me.

“Nah, not stupid,” he replied. “You were a kid. Seeing something like that scars you.”

I nodded, though it didn’t seem like it scarred Santi, and I knew men in the Cosa Nostra were young when they were pulled into the underworld. Truthfully, men in the Cosa Nostra were molded into ruthless men. Some were just more ruthless than others. I overheard Luigi once say that Santi was a ruthless, deadly combination of flame and gunpowder. His impending wealth and position as the future don had everyone bowing to him before he could speak his first words. Of course, the same was true for Luigi.

“Did it scar you?” I asked, turning my face to look at him.

“Can’t say that it did. It’s different with you though.” He released my hand, and I already missed his warmth. “You grew up away from all this, the Cosa Nostra and this way of life. Probably a good thing. You kept your innocence, your light.”

I tilted my head.

He thought me innocent. Hardly!

The hunger to avenge my mother and kill every single member of the Venezuelan Cartel burned with such acid within my chest, I was scared it would swallow me whole sometimes. My eyes traveled over his hand on the wheel and the other on his gear shift. His knuckles on both hands were always bruised. Today it was because of me.