Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) (24 page)

Luca scanned the menu as we inched by it, one hand on the wheel, the other elbow propped on the open window frame. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m going to make an executive decision and get you a doughnut with rainbow sprinkles, because you seem like somebody who would like that.’

I felt a white-hot flash of indignation. If he was trying to skirt over the bizarre-ness of what had just happened, patronizing me was not going to help.

‘I’m not a child,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to get me anything.’

I was feeling the dim heat of embarrassment flaming in my cheeks. Luca had been prepared to defend us both with his life just now on the highway, and me? I’d been crouching like a scared rat beneath the glove compartment. What the hell was wrong with me? How long would it take for my legs to stop feeling like jelly? I had seen so much already. I should have been braver, stronger. But I was a coward. I was useless.

We pulled up to the window and the smell of freshly baked dough wafted towards me. I clutched at my stomach to stop the growl and was reminded with a sharp pang that I was
starving
. Dammit, I wanted that doughnut. But I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve anything. I was so sick of cowering.

‘You should eat something.’

I was too angry with myself to respond. I shrugged and directed my gaze out the window while he ordered.

A couple of minutes later, we were on the highway again. Luca was drinking his coffee like it was water. The radio was on low and there was country music – something about a pair of boots and a truck – filling up the car.

Luca unwrapped a brown bag and placed a doughnut on the dashboard above the radio. It sat between us like an artefact in a museum. It was covered in rainbow sprinkles. The glaze was still dripping down the sides and the smell invaded my nostrils. Desire exploded inside me as my mouth filled with water.

Without taking his eyes off the road or saying anything at all, Luca nudged it half an inch across the dashboard towards me.

I lasted two minutes. Then I caved.

I stuck out a tentative hand, watching him in my periphery. He was focused on the road and humming softly under his breath. I snatched the doughnut and took a bite, revelling in the gooey sugar as it rushed over my tongue.

My brain was fizzing. Luca took another gulp of his coffee and I noticed with a frown that he hadn’t gotten anything else for himself. Just a tall, bitter helping of caffeine. How typically Luca of him. I put the doughnut back on the dashboard and nudged it, ever so slightly, towards him.

His gaze flicked to the left, his lip quirking upwards for one passing second. Slowly, he reached his hand out and took it, taking a bite on the other side so that even in its punctured state, the doughnut and all that sugary glory was perfectly symmetrical. I watched him chew, fixated on the curve of his jaw. He blinked, slow and heavy, and I could tell he was enjoying it. I felt bad taking it away from him, but I was still starving, and this doughnut was literally the happiest thing that had happened to me in way too long.

I took another bite, joining with my first so the grooves aligned. A groan of pleasure escaped me and I closed my eyes, thinking only of the taste for that fleeting moment. God, it was good. I fought the urge to stuff the rest in my mouth, and put it back. Luca picked it up a minute later. He chewed in silence but this time he nodded, as though agreeing with my earlier groan.

We shared it that way – tiny bites – back and forth until there was just one bite left. I watched, feeling way too forlorn as Luca picked it up. It was his turn. We were almost home now. The rest of the ride had passed quickly, with sugar and smirks and side-glances as we slowly picked through one
measly doughnut and expertly avoided the entire shitstorm that was swirling around both our families. We didn’t mention Donata or Jack or the gun Luca had under his seat. We didn’t talk about the warehouse, the blood war, the fact that we were at the start of something that was only going to get worse. We were both thinking about it, but our whole drive became about that doughnut and nothing else.

He took the tiniest bite and put the final piece back on the dashboard, leaving the last of it for me. He cleared his throat, and just as I popped the end of it in my mouth and swallowed without bothering to chew, he turned to me and asked, ‘Better now?’

‘It’s a start.’ I rubbed my fingertips on my shorts to get rid of the stickiness. ‘Was that the first doughnut you’ve ever had?’ I asked him.

Luca threw his head back and laughed so loudly I almost jumped in my seat.

He laughed and laughed. I could see all his teeth. I didn’t realize how wide his smile could stretch, or how little crinkles formed beside his eyes when he was amused. I didn’t know he could even laugh like that. It was so strange to see him untethered from his usual brand of seriousness.

I thought he might actually tear up with amusement, but after a while he just shook his head, shaking off the dregs of his laughter. ‘Are you serious?’ he asked, stealing a glance at me as we pulled off the highway. ‘Was that a real question?’

‘What?’ I asked, my eyes wide and innocent. ‘Why are you laughing so hard? Don’t be so rude.’

He shook his head, still smiling, and I fought the urge to slam my fist into his knee to wipe the smile off his face. He
was disconcerting like this. It made him too approachable. I was used to aloof-Luca, snarky-Luca. This Luca threw me off.

‘Yes, I’ve had a doughnut before,’ he said. ‘I’ve also tried cake and pizza, and I’ve been on a swing set and played on a PlayStation. I did not grow up in a metal cage.’ He laughed again, but this time under his breath. ‘
Dio, sei divertente
. What a question.’

I weighed my response. ‘I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. It’s just … you just seem like such a … um …’

‘What?’ He flicked his gaze to me again. ‘A killjoy?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, trying to salvage what I was about to say. But the thing is, that sort of
was
what I was about to say. ‘Well, yeah, kinda. You’re always so
serious
about stuff.’

The joviality seeped from his expression, but his voice remained light. ‘I have to be serious about things, Sophie. It’s my job. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun. Or how to eat a
doughnut
.’

‘OK, then,’ I said, duly scolded. ‘Consider me enlightened.’

He was still shaking his head. ‘You really are something else.’

The mood had finally lifted. The tension from earlier had drained, and I relaxed in the easiness that took its place.

‘Thanks for the doughnut,’ I said, watching the expanses of green outside and enjoying feeling satiated. ‘You were right. I love sprinkles.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m always right.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Smart-ass.’

‘So, are we even now?’ he asked. He was watching the street again – country fields blurring into each other on either side of us, while trees jostled for space overhead. ‘For you
saving me in the warehouse, I mean. I figured the doughnut might make a good thank-you.’

‘Oh, no, no,’ I said, flopping back against the seat. ‘Correct etiquette demands a bouquet of flowers. A doughnut, I’m sorry to say, simply won’t cut it.’

Luca’s exhale whistled through his nose. ‘It’s an impossibility,’ he said, his words filled with mock regret. ‘Surely the sprinkles made it a worthy thank-you gift?’

I shook my head against the leather. ‘I don’t make the rules, Luca. And if we’re being technical, you really only gave me
half
a doughnut.’ I grinned, revelling in his frown.

‘OK then.’ The car jolted to the side and Luca slammed on the brakes, pulling us into a mud ditch at the edge of the street. My body strained against the seatbelt as I lurched forwards. He pulled the parking brake and flung the door open.

‘Where are you going?’ I half-shrieked, undoing my seatbelt and whipping my head around at the same time. The place was deserted. There were no cars behind us – just fields and trees and muck on either side of us.

Luca was already out of the car, striding towards the field beside us. ‘Wait there,’ he called over his shoulder. He ducked through the fence and got lost in the grass. It brushed against his knees as he walked through it, bending low and scouring the ground. Clad completely in black, and with a switchblade sticking out of his back pocket, Luca ran his fingers along the grass.

He was completely and utterly out of his natural environment. And it didn’t bother him at all.

I waited in the car with his keys and his phone and his gun
and the radio still on, and tried to figure out just what the hell he was looking for on this random dirt road.

He ducked back into the car a couple of minutes later, his cheeks tinged with the faintest circles of pink. He was holding a small bunch of flowers in his hand, dirt still clinging to some of their ends, heads drooping against one another where he had grouped them together in his fist.

He held them across the armrest between us. ‘Here,’ he said, not quite looking at me.

A bouquet. For me.

My jaw unhinged. I took them from him, my fingers scrabbling against his palm as he released them and I tried to keep the mashed bunch of blue flowers together.

‘Thanks,’ I finally managed, rotating them, checking that they were really real. ‘You got me violets.’

‘Is that what they are?’ He was already easing the car back on to the street. I caught the hint of his smile. He so knew what they were. Nerd.

Something swelled in my chest. They were half-wilted, ripped from the earth and strewn with stray blades of grass that were probably covered with tiny bugs, but they were the first bouquet of flowers I had ever got. And they were beautiful.

‘I earned these,’ I said, beaming at my bounty as I held them in my lap.

Luca nodded at the road, his lips stretching to reveal a flash of white teeth. ‘You definitely did.’

The start of the afternoon – the prison, the highway scare, the gun, the terror – faded with the fields behind us.

Luca dropped me off at the end of my street just after six p.m. I scooped my flowers up and hopped out, turning to wave them at him. ‘Thanks for the ride.’

‘You’re welcome.’

I gestured down the street, in the direction of reality as it came creeping back in. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you have … diner business to attend to.’

He shook his head, his expression turning sombre as his seriousness returned with thoughts of his family. ‘I don’t watch the diner, Sophie.’ He sighed, just a little, and his brow furrowed. ‘My responsibilities are closer to home.’

‘Oh,’ I said, realizing that Luca’s presence in Cedar Hill really was just a favour to me. An act of kindness that had saved me from melting on that bus. ‘Thank you for going so far out of your way for me.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t have to seem so surprised.’

‘Hmm,’ I teased, pretending to consider him. ‘Maybe you’re not so bad after all.’

He leant across the seat, jabbing his finger in the air. ‘If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.’

‘Oh, you mean the whole asshole thing?’

‘And speaking of reputations, don’t do anything stupid,’ he added, leaning back into his seat and releasing the parking brake. ‘Fight your natural urges.’

I frowned at him. ‘And it almost ended so well.’

He shrugged as I shut the door. Through the open window I heard him say, ‘Well, then it wouldn’t really be us, would it?’

He didn’t wait for my answer and I didn’t stand watching
his car as he took off, back to
Evelina
and the underworld. My thoughts skipped to the safe and all the secrets it held, to his brothers who were lurking somewhere nearby. I turned for home, my bouquet of blue violets held tightly in my hand.

There was a time, not too long ago, when I never would have expected eleven flowers and half a doughnut to lift my mood so high. But that was before Jack, before the diner, before the Marinos, before the Falcones. That was before my father told me to get the hell away from Cedar Hill.

My footsteps slowed as I realized that to honour my father’s wishes, I would have to ask my mother to do the impossible. I was caught between them – between everything – and all the roads were hazy and grey, and I didn’t know which one to choose. The sky was grey too, heavy with a distant rolling storm, and it pressed down on me as I walked, suffocating me slowly under its heat.

The violets were electric blue, and I held them tightly. I was still holding them like a perverse life raft for my sanity when I shut the front door of my house and found myself face-to-face with Donata Marino. She was perched, like a Gucci-fied vulture, on the threshold of our kitchen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ALLEGIANCE

I
n the giant game of human ping-pong that was fast becoming my life, Elena Falcone held one bat, Donata Marino held the other, and I was a small, white ball, whirring back and forth.

And I was so over all this.

My mother was hovering behind Donata, her hands curling around the kitchen sink edge as she leant against it. Donata was rigid, squared shoulders cutting her neck in half, hands fisted at her sides as she stood between us. She wore all black for her daughter. Sara Marino had been dead less than a week.