Masked Innocence

Thirty-Nine

The names hit me like the middle-age Corvette owner’s fist, and my face must have shown it, for Martha flinched, then busied herself pulling out silverware.

“Magiano? You mean De Luca. Brad’s last name is De Luca. Right?” I stood, breathing hard, and stared at Martha and Stevie, who had both found other items in the kitchen fascinating.

“I fucking need honesty right now.” My voice was rigid and I saw Martha glance quickly over at me, and then look away. “What about women needing to know what they’re up against, Martha?”

“It’s not my place,” she said quietly, as subservient as I had ever seen her, pain in the eyes she quickly averted from me.

“And you?” I turned my wrath on Stevie, who was desperately trying to get a little more tea out of his empty glass.

He set down his glass and turned to me, his face unreadable. I could tell from his eyes that I wasn’t going to get any information from him, and he felt no shame at that. This was a man who had no issue with confrontation, or with withholding information.

Just minutes before, the kitchen had relaxed into a comfortable atmosphere, filled with the smells and noises of good cooking. Laughter, sizzles, pots banging. Now it seemed cold and foreign. I glared at both of them, then whirled and stormed up the stairs, hearing Martha’s sigh behind me. I flew onto the landing and turned, looking into Brad’s bedroom with the damn naked woman above his bed. She, in her black-and-white hotness, caught my fury. I strode in, climbing onto the bed and grabbed the large, canvas-wrapped frame and yanked it off the wall.

DOWNSTAIRS, MARTHA AND Stevie heard the sounds as Julia tore the portrait to shreds, slamming it against the door to break the wooden frame. He raised his eyebrows at Martha and she shook her head, turning off the burners and covering the rice. Dinner was finally ready, for all the good it did now.

“I always told that man his secrets would undo him.” Martha set three plates on the counter, and spooned rice onto each one.

“You act like he ever had a choice,” Stevie said, walking to the fridge and refilling his tea. He lowered his voice. “He was born, he grew up, he walked away from it as soon as he was old enough to make the decision. Why does it matter what she knows? You and I both know she won’t be around long, either by execution or him tiring of her. And she won’t tell anyone. Not now that she knows who he is.”

“I don’t know,” Martha said, heaping jambalaya onto their plates. “This one might be different. I fought it, didn’t want to see it, but something is different in his eyes when he looks at her. And from the evidence—don’t eat at that table, I got to clean it—she can keep up with him sexually, which is a feat unto itself.”

“So, what are you saying, he’s in love?” He spat out the words, incredulity coating the question.

“Maybe not yet, but it could get there.”

“Brad doesn’t fall in love. Even with Hillary.”

“Well, I told that boy marrying Hillary was a colossal mistake. It’s not my fault he didn’t listen then. But he hasn’t asked me now. Probably won’t, given as hardheaded as he is. But I will tell you, if that girl gets herself killed, I’ll be upset. And Brad? He’ll start a war the likes of which the Magianos haven’t seen in a long time.”

I LAY ON the soft sheets of the guest bed, and fumed. I was mentally exhausted, and the stress of the day weighed on me like concrete bricks, pinning me to the mattress. To make matters worse I was hungry. But I’d be damned if I sat down there with those two and ate. I could smell the jambalaya, the scent somehow making its way up the staircase, down the hall and through the thick wooden door. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to push away the thoughts that were drilling through my head.

So Brad is a member of the Magiano family. Those are the “connections” he mentioned. Hell of a connection. The Magianos, who killed Broward and tried to kill me. I’m sleeping with the fucking enemy. Even worse, I’m in love with the enemy.

I rolled over, curling into a ball, snapshots of the last few weeks shuttering through my mind. He had opened me up so much, pushed me so far past my sexual boundaries, stolen his way into and consumed my heart. At a time when everything had gone to hell and I didn’t know where to turn, he had been my constant, my strength. The man I had trusted my safety to. And now this. Brad Magiano, not De Luca. A first name I loved combined with a last name I despised. The man I had turned to was the one I should have run from. I didn’t know what bothered me more, the new danger facing my body or the risk I had brought to my heart.