Twisted Bonds (The Camorra Chronicles Book 4)

One week had passed since we’d found out that one of Kiara’s fallopian tubes was blocked. It could be a result of the rape, of an untreated sexually transmitted disease. I had always only used condoms with the women I’d been with in the past and done a test before I’d started having sex with Kiara.

After the initial shock, Kiara seemed to be doing well, having returned to being the caretaker of the household. I leaned in the doorway and watched her cooking up a batch of toddler banana cookies without sugar that Serafina had approved.

She froze with a cookie against her mouth when she spotted me. With a smile, she took a bite then headed over to me and held up the cookie. I took a bite despite my dislike of all things sweet.

“What do you think?”

“Not bad.”

Kiara pursed her lips. “They aren’t very sweet. Bananas are the only sweetener I used.”

“I’m sure Serafina will appreciate the effort.”

Kiara took another bit then shrugged. “I like them.”

I gently grabbed her wrist causing her to give me an exasperated look. “Nino, I’m fine, honestly. It was hard at first, knowing that it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” I growled.

“That the cause lies in my body,” she corrected. “But it could have been worse. It’s only one blocked tube. It could have been both or something else that would have made conceiving naturally impossible, but as it is, it still might work out without any additional help.”

“If we give it time,” I told her.

“Yes, and I’m trying to be patient. I’m on a good way, and maybe it’ll work out in a few months or years, and if not …”

“It will work out.”

She nodded. “I’m just relieved that we finally know what it is. The not knowing was worse than the diagnosis.”

I brought her wrist up to my mouth and pressed a kiss to her pulse point.

“You know, I was thinking of getting a tattoo there. Your name.”

I froze with my lips against her soft skin, my gaze meeting her kind eyes. “It’s a very tender place, very painful.”

“It’s okay. I know you’ll be careful.”

“I don’t want to cause you pain. I won’t.”

“Then let your tattoo artist do it, the one who did parts of your back.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I won’t allow anyone to lay hand on you, to cause you pain. I would have to kill him.”

Kiara’s brows crinkled. “That’s a bit extreme.”

“I won’t have anyone cause you pain.”

She stared at me. “I want that tattoo. It’s my choice. I’ll gladly take the pain.”

“Let me think of a design, something beautiful,” I said quietly.

She stood on her tiptoes. “As long as it’s not a bull.”

My lips twitched. “That wasn’t my idea.”

Kiara sat down across from me and stretched out her arm. I disinfected the skin of her forearm, still reluctant to ink her. I knew the tattoo would look beautiful on her but the process would be more than a little unpleasant. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” she said.

I took out the prepared design of the tattoo. Kiara’s eyes widened seeing it as I pressed the stencil to her skin to transfer it. With delicate tattoos it was always best not to tattoo without a stencil as guidance.

“A rose?”

“A red rose with thorns.”

“Why?”

“A rose representing your beauty, red because I love the color on you, and thorns because even the prettiest rose should have them. You didn’t in the beginning, but they grew back.”

Kiara bit her lower lip then broke into a smile. “That’s beautiful. But what about your name?”

I frowned. For some reason it felt sacrilegious to put my name on Kiara’s perfect skin, even if a possessive part of me was immensely pleased at the thought. “I could add it in one of the petals or very small along the stem.”

“No,” Kiara said firmly. “Let your name flow out of the stem. Because it was you who helped me grow those thorns, to bloom at all. You were the soil.”

I nodded, not saying anything, my tongue suddenly heavy in my mouth. Focusing on the task at hand, I transferred the design from the stencil to Kiara’s skin then carefully added my name in cursive. Once I was done, I reached for the machine. “Because it’s intricate and multi-colored, it’ll take longer. I can’t rush or it won’t be as beautiful as it needs to be.”

“I understand. Take your time.”

I’d never been nervous before doing a tattoo. This time I was. Taking a deep breath, I put the needle to Kiara’s skin. She sucked in a quick breath and tensed. I briefly glanced up, gauging her face.

“Do it.”

I continued, checking Kiara occasionally. Her eyes watered and my chest tightened at the sight.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Never before had causing someone pain bothered me. I focused on the tattoo, on the task. The pain would have to be worth it. This had to be my best work. Kiara deserved nothing less.

When I was done, I put down the machine and allowed myself to admire my work for a second. The rose was delicately beautiful, every petal, every thorn spoke of elegance.

“Oh, Nino,” Kiara said in wonder. “It’s so beautiful. I can’t believe how real it looks, how vivid the colors are. Thank you.”

“Thank you for bearing my name on your skin for the world to see.” I had enough self-awareness to know how most people perceived me. They were scared of me, not just because of the Camorra, or because I was a Falcone but because of what I was. Kiara managed to see more in me, parts of me I hadn’t been aware of before she came into my life.

Kiara leaned forward and kissed me.

“How’s the pain?” I murmured, even when there were so many other things I wanted to say right then.

“Worth it,” she said.

In early August we allowed Adamo more freedom, but still kept an eye on him. He didn’t show signs of withdrawal anymore, but things could fall apart quickly, so one of us always stayed in his proximity, even if it annoyed him.

“When will you stop hovering?” he asked during our sparring in the gym one day. “My birthday is soon. I don’t want babysitters around when I go over to C.J.”

“We’ll see,” I said and landed a kick against his side, exploiting his bad defense.

He grunted and jumped back. “I did everything you asked of me.”

“I know, that’s why we’ve gone easy on you recently.”

Adamo gave me a doubtful look. I landed another hit, this time a fist to the ribs. He stumbled back, rubbing the spot.

“You need to improve. Doing drugs shredded your focus and your stamina.”

Remo walked in, not in fighting shorts but dressed in his usual black jeans and t-shirt. I paused. Adamo tried to use my distraction but he really needed to get quicker to succeed. I kicked his legs out from under him and shoved him to the floor. He landed hard, and cursed.

“What’s the matter?” I asked when Remo stopped in front of the boxing ring.

“Jerry called. One of the Johns thought he could beat the shit out of one of our girls.”

Usually our bouncers, Fabiano or one of the lower enforcers handled these kinds of things. “Who?”

Remo’s eyes darted to Adamo. “C.J.”

Adamo shot to his feet. “How is she?”

“Our doctor’s taking a look at her in the Sugar Trap. I’m heading over there now to discuss the matter with the abusive asshole.” Remo’s mouth twisted. “I thought you might want to join me.”

Adamo climbed out of the ring immediately and I followed after him. “Let’s change first. A few minutes more don’t matter,” I said.

Adamo looked like he was going to protest then he nodded.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up in front of our establishment. Adamo was the first out of the car and hurried into the whorehouse. Remo and I followed a couple of steps after him. In the bar area a few whores had gathered, discussing the events. It was still early, and the majority of clients would arrive later in the day when the strip shows began. Still, it wouldn’t do to have the whores gossiping at the bar. That was bad for business.

“Go to your changing rooms, or talk in your back rooms,” I ordered. The women quickly left, not before giving Adamo small smiles.

Jerry came out from behind the bar.

“Where is she?” Adamo demanded.

“In her usual room,” Jerry said, but Adamo was already hurrying in that direction.

Remo shook his head. “Where’s the asshole?”

“I had Snake take him down to the basement.”

“Was he drunk?” I asked.

Jerry shook his head. “He’d only had a couple of beers. I don’t know what happened.”

“Let’s talk to C.J.,” I told Remo.

We headed down the corridor. The door to C.J.’s room was ajar and she sat on the edge of the bed. Adamo touched her shoulder. A doctor was waiting. The hint of cigarette smoke hung in the air and an ashtray with a few lipstick-rimmed stubs sat on the nightstand. We had a strict no smoking policy in our establishment but I decided to cut C.J. slack today.

C.J. turned around when she heard me and Remo enter. One of her eyes was starting to swell, so was the upper left side of her forehead, and her lip was busted. She was also rubbing her neck.

“Concussion and bruises,” the doctor said.

I nodded.

“What happened?” Remo demanded, prompting Adamo to step closer to C.J.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

C.J. released a low breath. “He’s not one of my clients. Lee usually handles him. He pays her extra so he can beat her and humiliate her in other ways.” C.J.’s mouth curled with disgust.

“That’s not part of the services you’re supposed to offer,” I told her.

“I didn’t. Lee did. She needed the extra cash, but she wasn’t there when he showed up so I decided to take him on. I told him in advance that I didn’t do those things and he agreed to book me for the standard.”

“I assume he changed his mind,” Remo said in a low voice.

C.J. briefly glanced at him then down at her hands. “Yeah. Once we got started,” she said, avoiding Adamo’s intent gaze. “He started making demands. I told him I didn’t do backdoor, but he didn’t care.”

Adamo tensed. “Did he force himself on you?”

C.J. shook her head. “He tried. He shoved me against the wall. That’s where I got the bruise on my forehead. He held my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I bit him. He got even angrier and punched me twice. I fell to my knees and bit his dick. That ended everything.” C.J. regarded me and Remo. “You told me I could decide what I did and I don’t do anal,” she said defensively.

“Your choice. I don’t give a fuck,” Remo said.

“Where’s Lee?”

C.J. shrugged. “I haven’t seen her yet. She’s been strange since she returned to work.”

Lee had worked for us in the past but when she got pregnant, we forbade her from working as a whore and she disappeared without a word only to show up again a couple of weeks ago, asking if she could start working for us again.

“What happens now?” C.J. asked.

Adamo crouched in front of C.J. with a bitter smile. “The asshole will pay, I promise.”

Remo smiled darkly. “Oh, he will.”

“I want to do it,” Adamo said at once.

“You don’t have to,” C.J. said immediately, touching his arm. He stood and stepped back.

“But I will.”

“All right, then let’s get this going,” Remo said, already the familiar eagerness ringing in his voice. I wondered why he’d involved Adamo in this. Did he hope this would help Adamo deal with his own torture? I wasn’t sure it would work for him like it had worked for us. Adamo wasn’t the good boy he wished he was but he definitely wasn’t like Remo and I either.

I studied C.J.’s beaten face, the way she gnawed on her lip. “Why don’t you go home? Take a taxi and let Jerry pay it from the cash register.”

I left, following my brothers to the basement. The second we entered the room with the John, Adamo jumped him and punched his face hard. Remo grabbed Adamo and pulled him back, but the eagerness in Remo’s eyes made it clear he fully approved. “Whoa. Not so fast. We need to talk to the gentleman first.”

Adamo whirled on Remo with an incredulous look but then he saw Remo’s smile and nodded.

The man kept his feet, standing and holding his bleeding nose. “What the fuck? Is this how you treat customers? Your cocksucking whore bit my dick.”

We looked down at his crotch. He wasn’t wearing pants.

“She must have a good aim to bite something that small,” Remo commented.

The man’s face turned even redder. “How dare you? This was the last time I fuck one of your disgusting whores!”

He wasn’t one of our gamblers and had never dealt with us in any other way than using the services of our girls. He obviously didn’t understand what we were—who we were.

“That’s absolutely right,” Remo said, wearing the madman smile that had made his claim to power easier than it should have been for someone his age.

The man stilled like a rabbit that realized he’d taunted the wolf. “I’ll talk to the police.”

Adamo snorted. “How stupid are you?”

“He obviously doesn’t realize just in how much trouble he is,” Remo said pleasantly. “How about we show him?”

Adamo nodded with a grim smile. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, then took a drag. Remo’s eyes flashed with anger, then Adamo pulled the stub out his mouth. “You like to humiliate girls?”

I watched as Adamo advanced on the man who let out an uncertain laugh. “How old are you, boy?”

Adamo took another pull from his cigarette and stopped right in front of the man, then chuckled. He fell silent and regarded the glowing tip with a small frown.

“What the hell is this? What’s wrong with you?” the man shouted.

Remo and I exchanged a look. Adamo had never tortured anyone, and we hadn’t forced his hand.

“Everything,” Adamo murmured then he gripped the man by the neck and pressed the cigarette to his dick. Remo’s eyebrows shot up and I took a step closer because the man was thrashing wildly, screaming shrilly. He had at least fifty pounds on Adamo. But Adamo stumbled back before the guy could hit him and let the asshole drop to the ground, clutching his cock.

Adamo frowned and his chest heaved. I could tell that he wouldn’t do more today and so did Remo.

“How about we’ll all have some fun now?” Remo said. He grabbed the man by the throat too and smashed his face against the wall. The sound of his nose breaking was followed by muffled screams.

Adamo raised a shaking hand, pushed the cigarette into his mouth and lighted it up again, then took a deep drag. I let Remo handle the guy for now and went over to Adamo.

“You okay? You didn’t have to do it. Remo and I can handle these things.”

“I know,” Adamo said past the cigarette. “But I wanted to.” He met my gaze and I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he expected.

“You did well for your first time.”

Adamo laughed. “I want to do more.”

Remo glanced up from the guy on the floor. “Feel free to get it off your chest.”

Adamo quickly shook his head and took another drag, then snatched the stub from his mouth and for a moment I was sure he’d press it to his own skin again. Instead he dropped it on the stone floor and ground it out.

“Can I go to C.J.?”

I glanced at Remo who shrugged, but I could see worry in his eyes.

“Don’t break our trust,” I told him.

“I won’t,” Adamo said, then without another look at the John he left the basement.

“Will you stand there all day or will you help me?”

I moved toward the John.

Fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded. Remo snarled, looking up from the fucker on the floor. He’d pissed himself. I wasn’t sure if Remo wanted to kill him or keep him alive. Maybe he didn’t know himself.

I reached for a towel and wiped my hands clean before I headed for the door to open it. Jerry waited there. His eyes briefly flickered to my blood-spattered shirt then quickly up to my face, trying not to look at Remo and the man on the floor.

“I took out some trash and heard mewling in the dumpster. Can you check? I think a cat might have left her kittens in there. Or maybe someone dumped their unwanted puppies. I’m worried passersby will get nosy if we don’t take care of it.”

“You realize that asking your bosses to rummage in the trash won’t give you any bonus points,” Remo muttered already moving away from the asshole. Grabbing another towel he began cleaning himself but his shirt like mine was a mess. Considering that we were about to root through garbage that wasn’t a problem though.

Jerry’s eyes flitted between Remo and me. “Umm … I need to tend the bar. I don’t have a change of clothes, but I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Remo opened the door all the way, moving past me and giving Jerry a good view of the bloody mess inside the room. Jerry quickly backed away, turning pale despite years of working for us.

“Don’t piss your pants,” Remo muttered. “We’ll handle it.”

Jerry headed back into the bar while Remo and I made our way toward the backdoor. “If we find kittens or puppies, don’t mention anything to Kiara. She’ll insist we’ll keep them. I don’t want our house to be turned into a fucking zoo.”

We stopped in front of the dumpsters and listened.

“I don’t hear anything,” I said.

Remo narrowed his eyes at the dumpsters. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they suffocated in there by now. It’s warm and stuffy.” With a sigh, he stepped up to one dumpster and I climbed the steps of the other. Most of the trash was in black plastic bags but for some bottles and food scraps had been just dumped inside.

“Fuck,” Remo gritted out as he shifted a garbage bag to the side. “How come I rule over the fucking West and still have to get rotten tomatoes all over my hands?”

I opened my mouth for a reply, shoving a bag away when a small, human foot caught my attention. For a moment I froze, not sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, then I sprang into action. I tore away another bag, throwing it behind myself.

“Remo!”

I grabbed the baby, which lay unmoving amongst the trash. It was only dressed in dirty underpants. Pressing the little body against my chest, I jumped down the steps and knelt down on the ground. Remo was already there. “Fuck! Is it breathing?”

I shook my head as I pushed my finger into the baby’s mouth cleaning it from possible objects that could get into its airways once I started CPR.

Remo was snarling into the phone, “We need you to come over right this fucking second. We found a baby in the trash. It’s not breathing.”

I cradled the baby in my hands and carefully blew air into the small body. Luckily the baby responded quickly. If it had still been making sounds not too long ago, it hadn’t been without air for very long.

When its small chest began moving and it started breathing on its own, I turned to Remo who was staring down at me with a mix of murderous fury and blatant worry. “I need cold towels and someone needs to get formula ASAP.”

Remo turned and headed back inside. I got the baby out of the dirty pants, seeing it was a little boy, then straightened with him in my arm. I was on my way into our office when Remo came hurrying back, holding towels. I took one from him then headed inside the room, put the little boy down on the sofa and began wiping him with the cold fabric.

“He’s overheated, dehydrated and malnourished. We need to take him to the hospital. Our own doctors don’t have the necessary expertise.”

Remo gave a terse nod. “All right. I’ll take him and make sure the doctors and nurses do their job, and keep their noses out of our fucking business and after that I’ll have a talk with the boy’s mother.”

Only one whore had been pregnant in the last year—Lee. When she’d returned, Lee told us she’d given her child up for adoption. She’d started working again to pay for her heroine addiction.

I said, “I can take him to the hospital.”

Remo touched my shoulder looking from the baby up to my face. “You are going home and talking to Kiara.”

I stared down at the little boy in my arms, realizing what Remo was saying without actually saying it. I nodded slowly and handed him to Remo, who held him carefully against his chest.

“I’ll wait for you in the hospital and make sure he’s protected.”

With a last glance at the dirty baby in Remo’s arm, I turned and hurried back home.