The Fall(86)
“Sofia,” she hiccupped, making my body unable to take another step.
“Yes, Mama.” I turned knowing it would be the last time I would ever see her again.
“I love you, baby.” Her voice broke as the tears spilled from her eyes. One of her hands was outstretched as if to reach for me while the other rested on the nearby wall. Her ability to support her own weight exhausted as she tried to stave off her tears. “Even when you left I loved you. I know your father drove you away. I know he said terrible things, said that you weren’t part of this family anymore. But he never got to take you out of my heart. I love you even now that you’re gone.”
“I love you too.” I barely got the words out as the first tear fell, my heart literally tearing into pieces as I witnessed the pain in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, my darling.” She wiped her own tears before managing a crooked smile. “I’ll be with you soon.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
It was the only comfort I could give her, the only thing I could offer her as my father’s blood stained my chest and the floor of the house she had to sleep in tonight. I hoped in the morning one of my brothers would take her away from here, that she would finally find some peace. That the days she spent in a medicated haze would end, and she would find some of herself again. I prayed that it wasn’t too late and she hadn’t been lost forever.
It should have been hard to turn around and leave. But it wasn’t. And not because my heart wasn’t breaking with every step I took away from her, because it was. But because unlike the first time I’d left this house, there was hope that she would make it. And if all of this had to happen for that, then it was worth whatever hell I was going through.
The stairs seemed longer on their way down, neither of us saying a word as Michael moved a step ahead of me until we were back on the ground floor. The enormous marble entranceway that sprawled out in front of us was empty and dark, just as it had been before. Or at least it was until the ornate glass panels in the large wooden front door illuminated, the rumble of an engine suggesting that headlights were the source.
“We need another way out, Sofia.” Michael grabbed my arm and all but threw me into the living room, squeal of dusty brakes barely audible over the heartbeat in my ears.
“Every other way is covered by the cameras,” I hissed as my panic rose. “The sensors will kick in and trigger the lights. Our best way is to head to the garage and wait it out and then go the way we came.”
It wasn’t a good plan. With no way of knowing who was out there and how they were getting in, it might be damn well idiotic. But it was the best chance we had of making it out undetected or without getting into a gunfight on the front lawn. While the neighbors hadn’t noticed us silently breaking and entering, they would definitely call the police the minute they heard a gunshot.
His jaw tensed not agreeing with my assessment but he didn’t seem to have a better one himself. And with a quick nod he followed me to the door that enabled internal access to the garage. It wasn’t far from where we’d entered through the side door, the few feet hopefully able to be navigated without detection when the time came to leave.
We stepped quickly inside, closing the door behind us, our bodies crouching down in between my father’s Bentley Continental and Cadillac Escalade. Dear God, please don’t let whoever is out there have the remote to the roller door, my lips moved in silent prayer. The hope that both the cars were parked inside enough of a guarantee that no one would be coming in that way.
It smelled like Armor All and leather as I palmed my Smith and Wesson. My body leaned on the car to help me balance my weight but the slick paint of the Caddy was making it difficult for me to stay still. And while the engine of the car had stopped, there was no sound of the front door to the house opening either.
The wait made me nervous; especially since there was no way of knowing who was out there and what were they doing.
Fear shot through me as the whirl of the overhead motor hoisting the heavy door kicked in. We had literally a second to scoot from in between the cars to wedging ourselves between the grille and the wall. It was a tight fit, each of us just being able to sink to our hunches as the overhead light clicked on and the door rose higher.
Those prayers I’d been saying weren’t getting answered.
And whoever it was in the driveway, was coming in.
“Michael,” I whispered knowing this might be my last chance.
“Not now.” He put his finger to his lips. His head turned side to side, apparently trying to form a new plan.
“It was worth it.”
“What?” He stopped cold.
Our eyes connected.
“Everything.”
Sofia’s oldest brother—James the second, or Little Jimmy as he was known by his family—walked inside with Franco Santini. Because I had wrongly assumed the night couldn’t get any worse so a big steaming bowl of f*ck-you had to land in our laps.
Little Jimmy was agitated, his hand holding a gun and he looked like shit. His shirt was crumpled like he’d slept in the thing, with his tie pulled loose at the neck. Franco on the other hand was his usual GQ—three-piece suit, fedora and big ass grin on his smug f*cking face. He seemed to have zero concern that only one of them appeared armed. I guess considering the angle Little Jimmy was holding the revolver he had a greater chance of getting a hangnail than actually getting shot. The barrel not pointed in any way hostile.