Mercenary (Gangsters of New York #3) - Bella Di Corte Page 0,106

prefer him not to do it, I’d rather stay where we are. That sacrifice was enough.”

He said nothing as he turned the car around and headed back toward his grandparents’ place.

It was hard to think about anything else, though, when I started to think about the situation between my husband and my cousin. Now was not the time tell Corrado that his sister was alive, because once I did, I would have to tell him that she married the man he desperately wanted to kill. His son, when he was old enough, too. His nephew.

I sighed again, clutching my purse. “Tell me one thing,” I whispered.

“Anything,” he said.

“Why? Why do you want to kill him? The real reason?”

He didn’t even question who. He already knew. It was all he thought about when he wasn’t dealing with family business. “That entire family needs to go. They never followed the rules. Killing kids is not a part of our business. It will never be, as long as I’m alive.”

“What about Corrado Palermo?” I said. “He did not follow the rules.”

“He didn’t.”

“I understand about your sister. There are no words for that. But why do this for him, too? Why avenge a man who knew the rules and broke them anyway?”

“I’m not doing this to avenge him,” he said. “Other than ridding the earth of the Scarpones, I’m doing this because I want to kill him.”

“You’re angry that—that man killed Corrado Palermo first?”

He nodded. “Angry is not the right word for it.”

“This is not about avenging Corrado Palermo,” I said, suddenly understanding. “You hate him so much that you want to kill him, but you can’t.”

He became quiet for a while. “Maybe if I could kill him, I could rid myself of him,” he said quietly. “I can’t get rid of him, angel eyes. He’s too much a part of me. He’s in my blood. I hate myself for it.”

All of his life he had been programmed to get rid of a problem, and then move on. He could not get rid of this. There was no one to touch, to strangle, to kill. He was dealing with two ghosts. Vittorio Scarpone and Corrado Palermo. Both phantoms of the past.

I took his hand and brought it to my heart. “You can’t kill a ghost, il mio amore. A ghost is already gone. You bring them to you by calling them, by giving them your life to cling to. It is you who won’t allow them to go.” I squeezed his hand even tighter, hoping to get through to him on his side of this life we shared. “If you hate yourself for what’s in your blood—how do you think Vittorio Scarpone feels?”

He took his hand away. “I don’t give a fuck how he feels,” he said. “I loathe him for doing this to me. For not giving me the chance to rid myself of that man who never claimed me. For hiding my sister from me. For being who he is.”

“If you kill him it is over,” I said. “If he has to live with these same feelings—wouldn’t that be worse?”

“If he fought to stay alive this long,” he said, “he feels right with life.”

“You will kill him,” I said, my voice betraying me. It was that scene over and over again—the one in the pistachio grove. Where he went to hand me the glove but held on. “And just get another ghost.”

“At this point in my life,” he said, turning into the drive, “I’ve lost count. One more will not kill me.”

“No,” I whispered. “Just destroy you even more.”

A car pulled up behind us as the gates opened. Corrado stopped the car, but after realizing it was Brooklyn, he pulled all the way in.

“You’re with me today,” he said.

I nodded. I had no plans on going to Bella Luna, so he did not call Nunzio in. He only came along when Corrado would not be there. And when Nunzio was there, so was Brooklyn.

Sometimes Brooklyn would come over and spend time even when we did not go to Bella Luna. It seemed like she liked to be around mamma, Anna, Eleonora and me. Corrado probably did not realize she spent so much time here, since he was always doing other things. Even when he was in the house, sometimes it was like he was not there.

He stared at my face after he put the car in park. “It would be a mistake for you to think I don’t know what the fuck