“He didn’t kill me, though he could have. And he never actually touched me. He let one of his men cut my throat. And Bud always made sure that he beat and burnt me where nobody could see it.”
“So you think Falcone didn’t know what was going on?”
“The whores knew and they liked me. They could have told him about it.”
“But he didn’t do anything,” I concluded.
Growl shrugged. “The beatings made me stronger. After a while, you don’t experience pain like other people do. It becomes familiar, almost like a friend. You stop fearing it, and even like it.”
That explained the tattoo on his back.
I moved so I could see his face and was stunned by the almost serene expression on his face. I hoped it was a perfect mask because if he was really this calm about the whole thing, there was little hope for him. When his eyes met mine, I saw a flicker, a crack in the perfect mask he’d built over time and almost exhaled in relief. I put my chin down on his shoulder, bringing my face closer to his. “There are other things that make people strong, not just pain. It’s horrible what happened to you. Someone should have protected you. All the people who stood by while you were tortured, they should rot in hell.”
“You shouldn’t care,” Growl murmured.
“I know.” I didn’t say more. Did I really care? The man in front of me today didn’t deserve my pity or help. He wasn’t the helpless boy from long ago anymore. And yet part of me felt for him. I couldn’t help it.
For several heartbeats we stared at each other and unspoken words seemed to hang in the air between us. I was so close to breaking down Growl’s walls, so close to gaining his trust.
“Bud’s dead now. Got what he deserved,” Growl said eventually.
It took me a moment to free myself from the strange connection I’d felt before. “Did you kill him?”
It was scary how easily the words left my lips and how little impact they had on my conscience.
“When I was ten,” Growl said with a hint of pride in his deep voice. Perhaps that should have made me uneasy and maybe it would have, even though Bud had deserved to die, if the idea of getting deadly revenge on Falcone hadn’t dominated my thoughts in the last couple of weeks.
“He’d beaten the shit out of a whore but that didn’t really do anything for him. Falcone hadn’t given him the second brothel Bud wanted and he wanted to let off steam. When he came into my room, I knew he was out for blood. And I let him. He kicked me and beat me, and I let him but then I decided it was enough, and I fought back. I always had a Swiss knife in my pocket and when he made a pause to light a cigarette and turned away from me, I slashed his hamstring in one clean cut.”
My eyes grew wide.
“He screamed like a pig in the slaughterhouse. Didn’t lose his balance like I’d hoped. Tried to kick me again, so I stabbed him in the upper thigh. Sliced his artery by chance. He bled out quickly. And I watched. I was still watching with the knife in my hand when one of the whores found me and ran away screaming. And I still stood there when Falcone arrived some time later. I was covered in blood from head to toe. Had stabbed the dead bastard a few more times to release some steam.”
The images flashed up in my mind and with the blood came more images, images of my father and how he’d died. But I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on that memory. It wouldn’t help me, nor my mother or sister. “What did Falcone do? You killed one of his men. Shouldn’t he have killed you?”
“No, he decided it was time to take me under his wings and show me what else I was capable of.”
“To kill and maim and torture,” I said quietly.
Growl’s eyes were almost resigned. “That’s all I can do. If there was ever more in me, it didn’t survive.”
He’d said similar words before. And I started to realize that he might be right.
“So Falcone taught you how to kill? When did you become his assassin?”
Growl thought about it for a moment. “I killed the second man a few months after I killed Bud. Falcone had told me the name of the guy who’d cut my throat and where I could find him.”
“So he wanted you to kill the guy?”
“He didn’t say it but I went and killed him. Falcone told me that this was his gift to me and that I was never going to kill without his explicit permission again, and I never did.”
“So you got revenge on the man who burned you and the man who cut your throat, but not the man who is the reason why it happened?”
Growl was silent.
“He is the reason why you have this.” I reached out to touch the scar on his throat, curious how it would feel but Growl’s hand shot out and his fingers curled around my wrist.
“Don’t,” he said quietly, warningly. His eyes were haunted as they fixed on me.
I wound out of his grip and put my hand back into my lap. “Why? It’s not like I haven’t touched your other scars.” And every inch of your body.
“Don’t,” he repeated in a voice that made me shiver. “Nobody is allowed.”
More questions lingered on the tip of my tongue but Growl didn’t give me a chance to voice any of them. He untangled himself from the blankets and got to his feet. “You should sleep.” He walked out without looking back. Sighing, I lied back down. I didn’t bother putting my nightgown back on. I was exhausted. Always exhausted. Worry kept me awake too many nights. I strained my ears, listening for Growl, and as usual I heard the creak of the backdoor and a few barks of the dogs before they fell silent again. Growl was a creature of habit. Maybe that was why the dogs were loyal to him. He gave them a hint of normalcy. I shook my head in the darkness. Normalcy. My life had always been a good cry away from normal, but now?
* * *
Growl was more detached in the days that followed. I’d thought we’d finally made a true connection during our last conversation but now he was pulling away again. He didn’t want me close. And I wasn’t sure how to change that. If he didn’t trust me, how could I suggest that he’d help my mother and sister? What if he told Falcone everything? Then everything would be over. And yet part of me was sure that he wouldn’t tell Falcone about a single word, we’d talked about. Growl kept things to himself. He was that kind of guy.
He didn’t even come to my bed at night anymore. He was really trying to stay away from me. Was he worried I’d get too close? Was that even a possibility with him?
* * *
“Falcone agreed to let you visit your mother,” Growl said out of the blue while we were having coffee in silence one morning.
I almost dropped my cup. “Really? Why? Why now?”
“Apparently your mother is depressed and Falcone thinks that’s why the negotiations with New York are going badly. I told him it would be good for your mother to see you were alright, so she had something to fight for.”
I set down the cup on the counter and bridged the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his middle and hugged him tightly, my cheeks pressed up against his chest. He tensed, then relaxed. We’d slept with each other several times, but this was the first we actually hugged. I realized he never kissed or touched me if it wasn’t meant to lead to sex.
“Thanks,” I said, then pulled away and took a few steps back.
He was watching me with an odd expression. Was there longing in his eyes?
God, why did he have to be so difficult to read?
“I will take you to her now on my way to work,” Growl said.
I couldn’t wait to see her again, but at the same time I was terrified of facing her after what I’d done in the last few weeks. I’d been sleeping with Growl, and not because he’d forced me, not even only because I hoped to gain his trust. I enjoyed it. There was no denying it. If my mother knew, she’d never look at me again.
* * *
Pulling up in front of my old home felt strange. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Falcone and his men had ruined the place for me. My memory of the place I’d grown up in would forever be tainted with the blood and death of my father.
The windows hadn’t been cleaned since I’d left. Water stains and dust covered them.
“I thought you’d be happy,” Growl said as he led me to the front door.
I’d thought I’d be happy, but I felt guilty and miserable and scared. I forced a smile, worried Growl might decide it was better not to let me visit my mother, if it made me sad. That was the last thing I wanted even if setting foot into my old home made my stomach turn. “I am happy, just nervous.”
Growl looked doubtful but he rang the bell anyway. It took a long time until finally one of our old bodyguards, Daryl, opened the door. So he was guarding my mother? Had he always been Falcone’s spy? Probably. There was no loyalty in this world. Even my father had betrayed his boss for whatever reasons. Not that I didn’t understand him.
He stepped back, an expression of caution on his face as he watched Growl. I felt a sick satisfaction at his discomfort. I wasn’t scared of Growl anymore.
Daryl gave me a nod but I ignored him and quickly walked past him into the lobby. It was quiet in the house. Such a vast difference to the last time I’d been here.
“Cara?” came Mother’s meek voice from the living room. I rushed off toward my mother and found her sitting at the dining room table, which was set for lunch. I hesitated in the middle of the room. My mother had lost weight. Her cheeks were sunken in, her cheekbones protruding. She wore no make-up. She always had. And her dress was crinkled as if she couldn’t be bothered ironing it. Mother would have never worn a dress that hadn’t been ironed. She’d changed. I had changed. It was ridiculous to think that my mother or sister wouldn’t. God, Talia. How was she doing?
My mother rose from the chair and opened her arms. I didn’t hesitate. I flew into her arms. It felt good to embrace her, to smell her comforting scent, even if she hadn’t put on her usual perfume. Mother buried her face in my hair and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, allowing myself a few moments of peace.
“I need to leave now.”
Growl’s voice sliced through the quiet. My mother and I stepped apart. Mother glared at Growl with disgust and fear.
I nodded. “Ok.”