Chapter 7 Gemma

Streaks of red, pink, and white suds swirl with the water running into the grass beside the doorstep. There’s something about the way Antonio’s moss green eyes peel away every layer of lies I keep around my memories. I hate dwelling on what I’ve done, and it’s a weight I carry alone. I tried to tell him before, but he probably thought I was still drugged and talking nonsense.

I shake the memories of a past which chases me daily to focus on the task at hand. Frankie Genero stares up at me with lifeless eyes. It takes every ounce of strength not to drift into the endless replays of that night last year when I stared into lifeless eyes just like Frankie’s.

“Is your friend, Ronan, actually going to come back?” I ask Antonio as he stands back from the house.

Fresh cut grass leads to a hedge of trees so tall they remind me of Central Park. The home’s stucco white walls and black trim around the large windows is beautiful. I can imagine private parties and gatherings in this yard where the neighbors are envious if they don’t receive an invite. There’s no way to peek through the trees as their branches and leaves intertwine effortlessly, except for one slight break in the wall of green.

Antonio kneels down to scoop Frankie’s limp body over his shoulder and walks toward those tall hedges.

“I don’t know what Ronan’s doing,” Antonio says with his voice straining under the weight of Frankie’s body.

“Where are you taking him?” I call after him.

“Down to the beach. Cutting his hands off up here will ruin all the work we’ve done cleaning up the blood trail. Do me a favor and grab that bag I left by the shed.”

“I thought we were burning his fingerprints off.”

Antonio continues walking toward the trees, leaving me no choice but to get the bag and follow him. I give the house one more look and don’t see any more pools of blood. Relief washes over me that at least that part is taken care of.

As I watch the subtle bob of Frankie’s head over Antonio’s shoulder, another emotion washes over me. The men in my life, my fiancé and brothers, took care of a problem in a most extreme way even though it’s going to lead to a turf war. A war between families makes me feel like Helen of Troy, but I don’t want anyone else to die from what happened to me.

Hopefully this is the last we’ll have to deal with Frankie and his boss, Verducci, won’t look too hard into his disappearance.

There’s a slope of wide natural stone tiles heading from the tree line behind the house to a beach of pebbles and small rocks with hints of sand. Antonio’s heaving the body toward the water when he turns to me, sweat pouring down his forehead.

“I’m going to walk through the water around that bend. You can keep your feet dry. I don’t want to do anything to him that might get on the rocks. In case someone does come here looking for him, they don’t need to find any traces down here.”

He sets Frankie’s body down for a moment to step out of his shoes and roll up his pants. A part of me wonders if he’s going to take his shirt off too. Flashes of him underneath me, riding him to orgasmic bliss, is like tossing an ice cube into hot oil and explosive fantasies mingled with memories ripple across my imagination This isn’t supposed to be happening right now. I can’t allow myself to fantasize over Antonio at a time like this.

Instead of letting my mind run wild, I hang his shoes over the bag’s handle by the laces and follow Antonio along the shoreline. The cliffs form a secluded area of the beach around a jagged corner that makes me feel entirely too small when I look how high it reaches.

A beautiful mansion juts out of the cliffside nearly 40 feet above us. There’s a staircase carved into the mountain wall along with an array of footholds in different colors and pathways for someone who enjoys rock climbing. There’s also a steel barrel that’s seen its fair share of fires along with two beach chairs.

Someone obviously lives here. My heart races as I hear Antonio splashing closer to me. I don’t want anyone to see us hauling a dead body through their property.

“Bring that bag here, Gemma.” He orders with his expression set in determination as we begin to strip Frankie’s clothes off. I can’t stop looking at the stairs and house above. As if he’s reading my mind, Antonio reassures me. “This is a friend’s place, Gemma. It’s okay.”

“You have a lot of friends with beach front properties.”

He smirks and tries to lighten the mood as he jokes, “Technically, these are cliffside properties. We’re closer to Sea Cliff than Downtown.”

Real estate is the last thing I want to think about as I drop the bag on the beach and open it to see an antique set of medical tools. The most prominent one being a small hand saw which I pull out and hold up into the sunlight.

“Is this sharp enough to do this quickly?” I ask him. I don’t want to have the image of Antonio hacking Frankie to bits and me sitting on the beach watching it like a butcher at a barbecue pit.

“There’s an attachment that oscillates,” he pauses as if trying to read if I understand his wording.

That irritates me. “I know how power tools work, Antonio. You’re going to use that thing like an electric carver.”

He holds his hands up in surrender with a slight tip of his head. “My apologies. I’ll have to stop underestimating you. Take his stuff and burn it in that barrel. I’ll manage the chum, here.”

I can’t stop the way my face twists in disgust at the visual. I’m used to being underestimated. He’s not the first and won’t be the last.

Antonio chuckles. “Don’t get squeamish on me now, Gem. This was your idea. A great one, too.”

“You’re the doctor, you’re used to seeing dead bodies, and I said burn the fingerprints off. I don’t need to see you do an autopsy”

“I’m offended you think I’m that shitty of a doctor. If my patients are all dead, that doesn’t say much about my abilities.”

I stoop down to gather Frankie’s clothes, shaking my head. “You know what I mean, Antonio. You deal with body parts.”

“No, I deal with patients. I’m not a surgeon and I’m not a medical examiner. But I get your point. I’m going to break him down like a spatchcock chicken,” he jokes with a light laugh.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” A voice says from behind me. I turn around to see a tall man, handsome, intimidating, but wearing a coy grin as he approaches Antonio. However, as intimidating as he is, I’m not afraid.

“Luca Devlin, this is my fiancé, Gemma Marzano,” Antonio says as he shakes Luca’s hand with Frankie’s body slumped on the shore at their feet.

“Marzano? As in Don Armande Marzano and the Marzano brothers?” Luca raises a brow, his gaze shifting to me.

“He’s not the don anymore.” I tell him. “My brothers are in the city as well.”

“I can see that.” Luca chuckles, gesturing toward the body at Antonio’s feet. “Anybody I should know?”

“No, but can you help us torch that stuff?” Antonio asks him with a glance at the pile of clothes in my hands.

“Of course, I can. I owe the Marzano family a few favors. How is Don Armande? I just saw your cousin, Julian, not too long ago.”

“Armande is in Sicily with my parents, retired from the, uh, family business. I know Julian went off and married some woman. Claire, I think, and his mother went nuts and tried to kill everybody. Me and my brothers are still trying to adjust to the west coast,” I tell him.

Luca offers half a smile and says, “I try to stay out of the family business, but I’ve been fishing with Armande. Here, let me show you the best way to layer that stuff to burn it.”

Luca leads me toward the steel drum, where right behind it is a metal crate. There are coals and other attachments to turn the barrel into a makeshift grill. He takes the pile from me and organizes it like a lasagna of clothes, coals, and lighter fluid. After handing me the box of matches, he walks away to help Antonio.

The drop of a single match holds me in a trance. My memories dance in the heat of the flames as I lose myself in thought. I remember it like it was yesterday, the fear, panic, and confusion rippling through my body. Staring into the eyes of a guy who said he loved me but held me at gunpoint and tied me up while he ransacked my family’s home.

Guilt is the emotion that lingers from that night. Someone I chose to let into my heart, let himself into my home to steal from us when I refused to introduce him to my brothers. The guilt of allowing someone to sweet talk me into letting my guard down just to spite me when it didn’t go his way. Anger came shortly after the guilt. The death of my ex and getting rid of his body that night still haunts me.

The sound of splashing pulls me out of my head and into the warmth of the fire dancing in the drum. I look over to Antonio and Luca as they wade back toward the beach with trails of blood swirling in the water until it vanishes along with Frankie’s body parts under the waves.

I don’t think either of them know how their voices carry across the breeze. Even with waves crashing against the rocks, I can hear bits of their conversation. It feels intrusive, but I can’t stop listening.

“I’m serious, Luca, she’s the love of my life,” Antonio says.

Luca nods. “I’m happy you found someone you can share your life with, scars and all. It’s just the family name, you know? Hasn’t the Marzano family put you through enough?”

Antonio shrugs. “Nothing I didn’t volunteer for. Besides, you know how it is. It’s easier to be with someone who gets it. She’s always going to get it.”

Luca shifts his gaze toward me. I try to keep my eyes on the fire that’s more smoke than flames at this point, to avoid them noticing I can hear them talking. Luca’s tone is low as he asks Antonio, “But will she be okay when you walk away from it?”

Is he talking about this lifestyle with my brothers? Every man in my family is in the mob. How can I walk away from it? I tried that already and look, it’s followed me across the country anyway. Or is Luca talking about Antonio’s relationship with me?

I don’t know the depths of their friendship, but it’s obviously close since we’re here on Luca’s property. Would Antonio share his plans with Luca, or will he stick to our charade to promote this sham of an engagement?

Luca and Antonio reach me just as the fire is almost completely out. Antonio stretches his hand to help me out of the beach chair and Luca smiles, peeking into the steel drum.

“I’ll make sure the rest is charred. I’m not sure how much time you guys have considering, um, that you had to go fishing ,” Luca says with his eyes moving from the fire toward the water.

“Don’t worry, Luca, we’re leaving now. We have to get away from here because that fish bait being swept out to sea is supposed to be alive and well. If people see us here and know Ronan’s place is a short walk from here, it’s too easy to connect the dots.” Antonio’s words are indifferent as if this is just another part of his day.

I study Antonio as he puts his shoes on and places his hand saw back into the bag. There are fresh drops of water on it from washing away Frankie’s bits. I don’t care as much as I feel a normal person should. I’m numb to all of this.

“Don’t forget to get rid of the stuff you’re wearing too. Just in case,” Luca suggests as he stokes the fire back to life.

“Will do,” Antonio replies, and shakes hands with Luca before leading me back to the beach. We round the corner and head up the stone pathway toward Ronan’s tree-lined yard. The grass tapers from sparse blades and rocks into the lush lawn at the edge of the property line.

Antonio holds his hand against my stomach, keeping me behind him as he stalks closer to the house. My heart races as we inch closer and closer to the back door. He points to his ear and motions for us to get low. The steady thump of my heart pounding against my chest is loud enough to drown out any possible whispers of intruders.

I can’t freak out now, but I don’t know what’s waiting for us. The car’s in front of the house near the garage. The back door opens and Antonio’s body tenses. He balls his fists, ready for a fight and I wish we had some firepower instead of a bag full of medical grade tools.

I open the bag and pull out the saw. I have no idea how useful it’s going to be, but any weapon is better than none at all. The closer we creep toward the house, the louder the noises are. Someone’s inside and they’re moving around in a hurry.

Before we can get closer, the back door bursts open and Ronan steps out much to our relief.

“Fuck, you scared the hell out of me,” Antonio sighs and lets his body relax. “I thought you skipped town already.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m definitely leaving. I wanted to make sure I got rid of this stuff before I got out of here. You still have clothes here, Antonio, if you want to change.” Ronan tells us as he rushes into the shed.

“Gemma, get the car started. I’ll be out in a minute. We can head to your place to grab some clothes for you before we go back to mine.”

“Wait a minute, Antonio. We can’t just keep hopping from house to house and avoid our normal routines. Won’t that look suspicious if we’re supposed to be engaged? And we’re supposed to move like we don’t know Frankie’s dead?”

“You’re right,” Antonio says and turns to me, “We’ll iron out the details later. Right now, let’s just put as much distance between us and Frankie’s body as we possibly can.”

Antonio heads inside while Ronan continues to rummage around his shed. He comes out and stops in front of me. “He’s loyal to a fault. Don’t let your family get him wrapped up in this life again. Don’t let them get you caught up in it either. The both of you should follow my lead and get out of town until this war is over.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he hurries back into the house. I go to the front, start the car, and wait for Antonio. By the time he arrives at the car, I’m in the passenger seat with the engine running.

Antonio gets in and drives us over the bridge and to the address I give him where me and Natalie share a house. I have the first-floor apartment and she’s upstairs. It’s clear she’s not home, but as soon as we step inside my place, something feels off and I stop in my tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Antonio whispers.

I pause and look around. “Someone’s been in here.”