Take Me Apart (Vitale Brothers Book 1)

I stood on the creaking front porch and hesitated. I’d made the trip and still didn’t want to cross the threshold to the house I once called home. Sleepy Hollow came by its name, honestly. It was slow, quiet, and had completely bored teenage me out of my mind when we moved out here. I stared up at the baby blue, two-story house and felt a looming dread pool in my stomach.

“Are you going to stand out there all day or come in?”

“Oh, leave him alone, Henry,” my mother chastised as she stepped to the screen door and smiled. “Hi, honey.”

I smiled despite myself. “Hey, Mom.”

She lit up and opened the door. Before I could say another word, she was in my arms. I hugged her back tightly and placed a kiss on the top of her head. I easily towered over her now, making me want to look after her even more. I had always been a mama’s boy, even if our relationship could be…difficult.

“It’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you call?” she asked, tucking a brown strand of hair behind her ear. “I would have had lunch ready for you.”

I waved a hand. “It’s not an issue, Mom. I ate before I came.” Her smile fell, and I quickly backpedaled. “But you know me. I’ll be starving again in twenty minutes,” I said, patting my stomach.

She lit right back up. “I’ll make you one of those huge grinders you like.”

My mouth watered, and I shook my head at myself. “I’ve missed the hell out of those. I’ll take one.”

I followed her into the house and closed the screen door behind me at the last second, making sure it didn’t bang shut the way my father hated. Shuffling after her, I stepped into the living room, and nothing had changed. My father sat in his chair, a stack of books beside him but his gun out in front of him on the tray. He had taken it apart and was cleaning it when he glanced up at me.

“Tex.”

“Dad,” I said back, mimicking his deadpan voice. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he grunted.

He put the gun down and picked up his pack of cigarettes. I could already hear my mother groaning about the smell. He slid one out and stuffed it into his mouth before lighting it, and his gaze finally fell on me again.

“What do you need?”

I stiffened. “Can’t I just want to come and visit my family?”

He blew out a cloud of smoke. “No.”

He’s as lovely as always. I reached over and snagged one of his cigarettes. He looked like he wanted to smack my hand the way he used to when I was a child. Instead he simply grunted, let me take a smoke, and lit it. Nicotine rushed through my body. I was able to breathe and push down the urge to shove him out of that chair and pummel him until he stopped being such a dick.

You know he’d kick your ass. He might be older now, but that man is strong.

That thought made me feel small beneath his gaze. As it always did. I blew out a cloud of smoke, glanced over my shoulder to make sure my mother was out of earshot and stared at the old man.

“I need some of your old case files on the Vitales. The chief has me working on them, and I figured you might have some things other people don’t. Notes, recordings, anything.”

He looked me up and down. “Leave it alone.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can,” he said. “I doubt the chief has you working on anything like that. Do I need to call and ask?”

Suddenly I was transported back to being a kid, sitting in front of my father while he glared down at me and threatened to call my principal. My shoulders tried to slump, but I shoved them back and held my head up. I wasn’t a child anymore. His words didn’t have nearly the effect on me that they used to. Or at least I tried not to let them.

“This will help me make detective.”

“No,” he grunted. “It’s going to get you killed.” He shoved a finger in my direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll drop this case and leave it the fuck alone.”

He reached for his cane and tried to pull himself up. I moved on instinct, standing up and running over to help him to his feet. What I got was a cane shoved into my stomach.

“Did I ask for your help?”

You never do, asshole.

“No,” I muttered.

“Then get the hell off me,” he said as he tried again and rose slowly, a flash of pain showing on his face before it was gone. “Anything else?” he asked.

“I still need those files.”

“Are you hard of hearing, boy?”

I gritted my teeth and ignored the urge to tell him to fuck off. “Nope,” I answered. “Just determined. You used to tell me I lacked ambition and wouldn’t get anywhere in life. Now I’m trying, and you’re shutting me down.”

He glared at me. “Look at my leg,” he snapped as he tugged up his pant leg and showed me the dark, knotted mass of flesh that remained even after all the surgeries. “This is what happens when you mess around going after mobsters. And I was the lucky one, unlike my partner, who’s six feet deep and rotting in a pine box,” he snapped. “So when I say no, I mean no. Find a different way to make detective. I’m not helping you.”

My face grew hot as my jaw tightened. “Why do I ever expect you will?” I snapped back. “You didn’t help back then, and you don’t help now. Let’s be honest; the only thing you care about is yourself.”

“You have five seconds to get out of my presence before I knock you on your ass.”

We stared each other down, but I was the first one to cave. I turned on my heels, cursing myself out as I walked away like a little punk. I moved to the door, and my mother cut off my retreat.

“Oh, don’t leave, Tex,” she said softly. “I know your father’s cranky, but that’s just because of his leg,” she said, trying to reassure me. She reached out and rubbed my back. “Won’t you stay for dinner? Maybe spend the night for once.”

My heart clenched, and shame settled on my shoulders. I felt bad not staying around for her, but I couldn’t stand being around him. On top of everything else, he’s robbing me of my mother. The thought made the heat rise in my chest again. I glanced toward the living room.

“Sorry, Mom, but I’m working a lot lately,” I said, which wasn’t a complete lie. “I can’t stay the night. Maybe we can grab something to eat one day.”

Her smile faltered, but she pulled it back into place. “Ah, okay,” she said, lifting her head and shaking off the sadness I saw in her eyes.

“Kate!” my dad bellowed, swallowed by a litany of swears.

“I better help him. He’s probably ready for his nap,” she dusted her hands off on her apron and pointed a finger at me. “Do not leave until I finish your sandwich.”

I smiled at her. “Okay, Mom.”

She jogged to the living room and cooed to calm my father’s irritated tirade. I could hear them traveling up to the second floor and shook my head. The old man was too stubborn to downsize and get a house with one story, so, of course, it was mom’s responsibility to help him out.

The sound of their footsteps faded as they went to the bedroom. I took the opportunity to jog down the basement stairs and walked to his office. The door was locked, but a quick walk over to the shelves and a dig around in the jars and I found the key. He always thought it was such a clever spot.

I slid the key inside the lock and let myself into his office. There were stacks of files in boxes, but the most important ones were in the filing cabinet. Out of the two of us, he was the organized one and as much as I hated that shit when I was younger, right now I was grateful for it. I opened a drawer, flipped through the files and found the one I was looking for.

Vitale.

I snagged my phone and laid out the papers one by one. Carefully, I took pictures of each one, trying to keep them in the proper order. Front and back, I recorded every bit of information that I could.

“Tex?”

My heart raced as my mother called me. “Coming!” Shit, not enough time.

I quickly gathered everything up and stuffed some files into the back of my jeans, tugging my shirt over them. I shut the drawer and locked the door to the office. When I emerged to the main floor, my mom was frowning.

“What are you doing down there? You know how your father gets about the basement.”

“Yeah, I was looking for some of my old stuff.”

She looked me up and down. “Yeah, well, there’s still a ton down there. Are you going to go through it anytime soon?”

“Soon,” I promised as I followed her back into the kitchen. “I need to get going, Mom.”

“Are you sure? Just stay for a little while.”

“I really need to get to work.”

She sighed. “You never stick around. I wish you wouldn’t take off so quickly.”

I wish you would protect me from him more. Or at least stand up for me. The words set heavy on my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. She was a good mother, and I knew she’d done the best she could, but when it came to my father she cowered. And part of me hated her for it.

“Don’t forget your food,” she said. She wrapped up the sandwich and then opened the fridge. “I made some chicken the other day too. And veggies. Here, take all of these.”

I let her load my arms up with containers, effectively building a wall between my hurt and her shame. If all we focused on was food, the weather, the job, and every other trivial matter in between, then we would never have to talk about the chasm of pain that grew between us and threatened to swallow us whole.

“You sure you don’t want to come out tonight?” Rourke asked.

I stared through my windshield at the place in front of me. How long had I been waiting? There was a slight cramp in my legs, and my stomach growled. I reached for the sandwich my mom had made and took a huge bite out of it.

“Nah,” I mumbled. “I want to sit at home, relax, and do nothing.”

“Fine,” Rourke said. “Make sure you stay out of trouble.”

“When do you ever know me to be in trouble?”

Rourke grunted, reminding me of the disappointed sounds my father made at me, and my stomach clenched. Suddenly, my appetite was gone. I stuffed the sandwich back into its container and slammed the lid closed.

“Alright, well, don’t be late for work tomorrow,” he said.

“I won’t.”

We hung up, and I went back to staring at Enzo’s place. He lived in an apartment building that was a lot more lowkey than I expected. I’d thankfully found the place through my father’s files; surprisingly, there was an address for all of them. He’d done a ton of work before packing it in, and I was glad I’d listened to my impulses and sought the files out.

The front door opened, and Enzo stepped out on his stoop. A man joined him. I looked through the papers I’d printed out, my mouth tugging into a frown.

“Giancarlo. The brother.” I tapped the paper and glanced up at them. “Where are you two going?”

They walked down the steps together and disappeared into what I recognized as Enzo’s car. Sliding down in my seat, I watched as Enzo took off down the road. When he was out of sight, I sat for a few minutes longer, but I couldn’t wait forever. It was now or never.

I slid out of the car and pulled my jacket around me. The cool, fall air was biting at my skin as I waited around the stoop. Another minute ticked by before a mom walked out of the building chastising a little blond boy behind her. I smiled at them and slipped into the building. According to the file, Enzo’s apartment was on the top floor. The man had an obsession with heights.

The elevator carried me up to the top, and I stepped out as I searched for his number. Clearly, the apartments were bigger on this floor because there were only two doors. Number 745 was his. I pulled out my lock-picking kit and set to work. As the tumblers moved and time ticked by, sweat collected on my brow. The sound of the door unlocking made me want to jump up and punch the air. I gripped the knob and let myself inside.

“Woah.”

The place immediately had a homier feel than the hotel room I’d been taken to. Inside there were family photos on the walls, and something smelled delicious in the kitchen. I made my way there and peeked at the crockpot that was bubbling away. What’s he making? I was tempted to take off the top and inspect it, but I forced myself to leave it alone. I moved past the kitchen.

Down the hallway was a bathroom and a guest room, or at least I guessed that’s what it was. The room was bare except for a bed, dresser, and television set, but there was nothing personal there. I took a set of wrought iron stairs up to the second floor and found a bedroom. Attached to it was an office.

“Bingo.”

I let myself into his office and rifled through his papers. What I was looking at looked legit. Building projects, an architecture firm, a development start-up. All legitimate businesses to hide the shady shit that they did. But it wasn’t going to get me anything.

I walked to the computer and booted it up. A box asked for a password. Immediately, I dialed Chelsea.

“Yo,” she said. “You in?”

“Yeah.” I sat down and pulled out the USB she’d given me. “What do I do again?”

“Easy. Plug in the USB and restart the computer. Enter the BIOS by pressing F2 or the delete key. Under Boot options, set removable devices with boot sequence priority over the hard drive. Save the settings and reboot the computer.”

I blinked at the computer. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

She cackled. “Okay, hang with me. I’ll walk you through it.”

I did as she said, moving step by step. When the computer came back on, the password was disabled. I logged on and browsed through his files.

“Don’t worry about looking. You won’t know what to do. Just clone the hard drive.”

“How long is this going to take?” I asked.

“Depends on the size of the hard drive. The bigger it is, the longer it’ll take.”

My stomach twisted into a knot. Great. I was sitting in Enzo’s apartment and had no idea when I was going to be able to get out of there. I leaned back in the computer chair and looked around.

“So, who is this guy anyway?”

“A bad man,” I answered.

“Yeah? Well, why did you look at him like that when we were at Blu?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like you wanted to put his whole dick in your mouth and swallow.”

Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet. “Shut up.”

“Don’t try to get out of the conversation. Answer the question, Texas. If he’s so bad, why did you look at him like you wanted him to come down and talk to you? Like you wanted to be chased,” she said, dragging the word out.

My jaw clicked. “The only thing I want to do is put him behind bars.”

I walked out of the office and made my way down the hall. There was a picture of three boys. I wondered if they were the Vitale brothers.

“And once he’s locked away, he won’t be my problem.”

She whistled. “Ah, I get it. He’s the bad boy. You’re the good guy. It’s a match made in hell, but lust made in heaven,” she sighed wistfully. “It’s the perfect setup, really.”

“You’ve been watching too many romance movies again.”

“There’s absolutely no such thing. I’m getting another call. Do you still need me?”

I shook my head. “Nah. I know how to do the rest.”

“Good luck with your bad boy.”

“Fuck off.”

I hung up to the sound of her laughter. Walking through the rest of his place, I searched every nook and cranny. Enzo had a lot of books. They were stacked on shelves, lying on tables, and placed haphazardly in corners where he’d clearly run out of space. There was a new bookcase sitting on the floor, half put together. I ran my fingers over the clean, dark wood and continued to walk around.

Enzo’s place was… cozy. Big, but comfortable. I could see myself curling up on a couch here or sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. I froze as the thought went through my mind. What the fuck am I thinking? I don’t belong here.

Right, this was the home of the man that I was getting ready to send to prison for a very, very long time. I turned on my heels, ignoring the stupid fantasies that raged and returned to the office. The progress bar was still slowly filling.

I had no choice but to leave again and explore more. From what I could see, I learned things about Enzo; he preferred Jazz and was interested in instruments. There was no tv in his bedroom like there was in mine, but there were more books. In the closet was a range of expensive suits, but in his dresser were comfortable clothes that were soft to the touch.

I looked under his bed and spotted a shoe box. I dragged it out. Popping off the top, I glanced inside. There were pictures inside. Some of them were normal photos of pets, family, and birthdays long gone by. But as I dug through the box, I froze.

There was Enzo with a man who looked somewhat like me. Same dark hair and bright eyes that were gray instead of blue, but he was smiling so hard at the camera. Enzo looked stoic, but there was something in his eyes that looked like joy.

I continued to shuffle through the photos one by one. They turned from cute and sweet to sexy and wild. I quickly moved past those until the photos fell from my hands.

There, the last photo in the group, was the man from before. His face was bloody, one eye swollen shut as blood dripped from his mouth. There was a pleading look on his face and Enzo’s hand was in frame, holding his chin gently. I would know that ring on his finger anywhere.

My stomach lurched as the truth dawned on me. Bile rose in the back of my throat. I scrambled up and raced for the bathroom. My knees slammed against cold tile, and I tossed the toilet seat up just in time to spew my dinner into it. It came up in chunks, gagging me and making my eyes water.

Enzo had killed his lover.

I spit until the last remnants of sickness were gone before I dragged myself to my feet. Once the toilet was flushed, I shuffled over to the sink and turned on the water. I drank directly from the faucet, water running over my mouth and rinsing out the rancid taste that clung to my tongue. I snatched up the bottle of mouthwash, swishing it around to dispel the grossness that coated my mouth.

Enzo Vitale killed his lover.

I knew it as much as I knew the sky was blue, and I paid too much in fucking taxes. Determination coursed through my veins. I stormed back to the bedroom and spread the photos out until I found the happy ones. I snapped pictures of them all and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

I was going to find out who that man was and confirm what I already knew. A small, niggling part of my brain screamed it wasn’t true. That I would find the guy alive and well in the city. But the realistic part of me knew.

Carefully, I placed everything back in its original spot as best I could before I shoved the shoe box underneath the bed again. I stalked to the office to check the progress. Eighty-seven percent copied. Thirteen more to go.

“Oh shit, this thing is heavy!”

My heart stopped. I stared at the office door as I heard the voices speaking below. Slowly, I walked over and peeked through the crack in it.

“Why do you need another bookcase? You haven’t even put that one together,” a man complained, his Italian accent clear.

“I’m putting it together tonight,” Enzo answered. “So I wanted another to work on when I’m done.”

“Goddamn, you’re weird,” the man countered. “My idea of a good night is fucking and drinks, and yours is building a bookcase.” He paused. “Is it because you’re distracting yourself from a certain cop?”

There was silence. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Have you been keeping an eye on him at least?”

“Of course,” Enzo said. “He went to that girl’s house tonight, and they tend to stay together for several hours. I’ll go by his place tonight and make sure he’s there.”

My body broke out in a cold sweat. Enzo knew I was a cop. Had he been watching me from the start? My heart dropped into my stomach, and I gripped it through my shirt. Shit. He knew who I was all along.

“Fine,” the man answered. “Just make sure you’re doing what Benito says, or he’ll be on both our asses.” He grunted. “I’m getting out of here. You take care of that last cop?”

“Yeah, Ramada,” he answered. “Found him on our casino boat and took care of him.”

I felt like I was going to pass out. Ramada? It couldn’t be the one from my precinct, right? I felt like the Earth was shifting beneath me. Enzo being a bad guy wasn’t news, but it was still shocking to hear them talk about ending human life so casually.

“Good job,” the man said. “Get some rest, okay? Night, Enzo.”

“Night, Gin.”

The front door closed, and my throat squeezed. I shuffled back to the computer and found the copy was at ninety-five percent. It would have to be good enough. I yanked it out and restarted the computer. It was quiet when I approached the stairs, and I waited.

Carefully, I walked down. Enzo was nowhere in sight as my heart pounded in my chest. Maybe he stepped out with his brother? I had to find some way to get downstairs and out of the building without them seeing me. Slowly, I walked to the door only to stop like a deer in headlights when it started to open.

“Enzo, I forgot my goddamn keys,” Gin bellowed.

Something hard slammed into me, and I flew back into the kitchen. I crashed to the floor, and Enzo stood there, his eyes wild as he stared down at me. He shoved a finger against his lips, shook his head, and walked away.

“You left them by the front door,” he said. “Try this table.”

My heart sped up so fast I couldn’t breathe. Did Enzo just protect me? His brother hadn’t seen me, is that what he was after? The brothers talked, the keys jingled when they were found, and I couldn’t stop feeling the urge to puke again.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Gin said. “Stop pushing!”

“I’m ready to be alone,” Enzo growled.

The door shut, and I pulled myself to my feet before I stuffed the USB drive into my shoe. I straightened up as Enzo rounded into the kitchen and slammed me against the counter.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house? How did you even find this place?” he demanded.

I swallowed thickly, but no words came. What the hell was I going to tell him that would get me out of his place in one piece with the evidence I needed? I looked into his eyes and drew on my years of being a lying, manipulative junkie.

“I missed you.”