Page 92 of End It All

"What are you daydreaming about?" Cesare asked as he roamed over to me and puffed on his cigar.

I gave him an awkward grin. "Nothing."

He raised a brow. "You know, you really can't dress for shit. What's with the leather jacket? You look like you're trying to be some kind of tough guy. Have a little class."

I groaned. Cesare was either making progress with me or pissing me off. One rarely lasted long before the other side kicked in. He passed me the cigar, but I held up a hand. That thing tasted like shit. I did, however, take the cigarette he offered and lit that up instead. Once I blew out a cloud of smoke, I pushed my fingers through my hair.

The club was packed, bodies pressed against bodies as women danced on the stage in the center of the room. Even though they were clothed, it wasn't by much. There were more inside of cages. Some suspended in the air, others on little platforms. People stood around as they drank and laughed. It was like this was their normal. It definitely wasn't mine.

Seems like these fuckers have too much time and money on their hands.

"I heard how you worked with Jimmy today," my father said over the loud music. "You did well."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," I muttered, trying to keep up with the conversation. "It was nothing."

"Nothing? You took down three of their men before you even broke a sweat. Who taught you how to fight?"

Not you.

I didn't say it even though the words sat on my tongue, begging to be let out. I didn't hate him right now, but I still found it hard to talk to my father for more than a few minutes at a time. It was like he was reaching out too much, trying to get closer to me. I had no idea why. Honestly, I just wanted to be left alone. But he was giving me a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear.And I didn't want to piss him off because I'd seen what he could do when he was calm.

"You just kind of pick it up, you know? I got my ass jumped enough times to figure out how to take and throw a punch. After that"—I shrugged—"it was easy."

That was a lie, it hadn't been easy. I'd gotten beat up more times than I cared to think about when I was still in school. The difference was that I had learned how to take the hits, absorb the pain, and give it right back. If someone made me hurt, I hurt them more. If someone made me bleed, I made them wish they were dead. I had never been particularly violent just because though. Mostly, it was when someone pissed me off after I asked them to stop or if they messed with someone I cared about. Then I could get bad. I still wasn't used to a bunch of death, but it was the kind of world I had immersed myself in now.

There was no going back.

"Why are you so standoffish?" he asked after a moment of silence. "Missing that boyfriend of yours?"

I bristled and he burst out laughing. My jaw tightened, the motion so hard I felt like I was going to snap one or a few of my teeth. Instead, I clenched my hands tightly together and sucked in a lungful of acrid smoke. For some reason, Cesare loved to poke fun at me about Quincy. No matter how many times I said there was nothing between us, it was as if he couldn't let it go. Whether it was to tease me or just make me feel like shit, I didn't know. But it was starting to piss me off.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said when I went quiet. "Just trying to get in your head."

"Well, could you not?" I responded. "I don't get it, why do you always have to pick on someone? We can't just stand here, get drunk, and talk?"

He frowned. "Talk? About what?"

I waved a hand around. "Anything! Literally anything."

The emotion that came over his face was impossible to read. When he stayed quiet, I waved a hand and gave up. He would never be the kind of father that I wanted. The kind that had put me up on his shoulders or who chased me around the backyard. What the hell had happened to him?

"You called your mother."

My back stiffened. "How do you..."

"My house isn’t exactly soundproof. Doing that while the police are after you, is that a good idea? You know, if they catch you, they can have you sent back to stand trial, right?"

I glanced away from him. "Yeah."

"And you don't care?"

I stiffened. I knew what I was looking at, the kind of time I would have to serve if I was caught and sent back home. But some of it was starting to feel like... so what? At least I'd be back home where I belonged.

My thoughts immediately went to Gin, Paolo, Benito, and Enzo. They had been something like what I'd wanted. A family, brothers. But by now, they had to know where I was. They wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore, that much I was sure of. And could I blame them? No, not at all. I'd gone to my father. I knew how they felt about him. There was no way back to them.

Or Quincy.

Not that I wanted to be anywhere near him.