Callahan
I've always hated Heathcliff Esmeralda. He always struck me as a lost cause. A petty, opportunistic piece of shit.Never trust your man who turned on his own family.The girl is arguing something, but I don't stop to listen. I don't care. They'll figure it out. She's safe, for now. So is the kid.“Are you going soft, Brother?" Antonio asks me.I don't dignify the question with a response. He knows better. Or he should, at least.I strip off my jacket, toss it aside when I walk into the main part of the house. I've only been back a few times since my return from the dead. Couldn't take a chance on being seen. Not before I interrupted that wedding.Dust cloths are still strewn over most of the furniture and I stop to glance at the pieces that have been uncovered. At the paintings of my family. Another of my ancestors.The ancestors are easier to look at. I didn't know them. They don't mean much to me. But I move to the one of my mother. My father commissioned it when they got engaged. Or so I'm told.I look up at her blue eyes. I inherited them but that's where the physical similarity ends.Her blonde hair only one of my brothers and my sister inherited. They're all dead now apart from Antonio.The blood of the Esmeralda brothers crusts on my skin as I stare at the painting, undoing my tie, willing myself to remember.Bear in mind, they didn't spare your mother.And therein lies the problem. I don't remember. I don't remember a fucking thing. My own mother and looking at this painting she's a stranger to me."Is it done?" Diamente asks. He's talking to Antonio. Antonio is the reasonable one. I'm a fucking walking disaster.“The girl and the kid are still alive,” Antonio mutters, obviously annoyed by the fact.I force the anger I feel at not remembering down into my gut, to a place I can manage it. Barely. I move past the painting, through the living room toward the dining room. I stop between the pillars that hold up the vaulted ceiling.“Is everything okay, Cal?” Diamente asks when I don't speak.Diamente Lombardi, an attorney with a penchant for uncovering details most want to keep hidden, was a friend to both of my parents and a man my father trusted.I nod, take in the large windows, some still devoid of glass that let in the sun."Vincent and Gregory Esmeralda are dead," I say.He studies me. I'm sure he wants to know why they're not all dead."Good," he says."You should have killed them all. Finished it," Diamente says.I turn to my younger brother. Just one year between us. Every time I look at him, I think how grateful I am that he's not dead.That he wasn't here when it happened."I'll finish it my way. In my time. This is up to me. Not you."Antonio snorts. "Fuck you, then. I'm going to get something to eat." He disappears into the kitchen.Diamente gestures to the men working at the windows. “This project will be finished today, I'm told. You sure you want to be here?""It's where I belong."The house has been in my family for generations. The bigger windows are an addition my father made at my mother's request. It was too dark for her otherwise. Even here, in southern Italy on her own island, she needed more sunlight.My uncle told me that. Said she always hated the dark. Got depressed in winter and on the rare sunny summer days.And so, my father had the windows made bigger, but he fucked up. Sealed our fate. Gave his enemies an easy target because the bullet proof glass that was to be put in wasn't. Another betrayal. I killed them too. The pigs who sold him that glass.I will kill every mother fucker who betrayed us. Who had a hand in my family's massacre.“We'll meet representatives from the families tomorrow. Everything is arranged," Diamente says."How did they take the news?"“The news that the Scarfoni family wasn't wiped out as Fernando Mancini would have you believe. That they missed two sons. The ones who will avenge the murders of our family.”Diamente smiles wide. "They're thrilled that the Esmeralda Cartel is out of the way and that you've returned to take your rightful place," he says, the note of sarcasm in his tone subtle but unmistakable.“I bet.”"We know the two who sided with Fernando. We still have the majority of support on our side."I nod, walk toward the stairs. "They're either with me or against me. There will be no middle. Not this time."He doesn't reply. But this is where my father went wrong. This is where he made the mistakes that cost my family their lives.“I'm going to change. Are you staying for dinner?" I ask.He checks his watch. "No, not tonight. I'm meeting with a few people."“All right. I'll see you soon."I head upstairs and walk into the master bedroom. It's one of the few rooms that's ready. I toss my tie aside, unbutton my shirt and tug it out of my slacks. I look down at it. Even on black, blood shows. Luckily it was never my favorite suit.There's a knock on the door and I turn to watch a soldier manhandle the girl into the room.Portia Esmeralda.Only daughter of Edgar Esmeralda.Her uncle is right. I should kill her. But there's something about her that's got me curious and I can't quite put my finger on it.I look her over. Even in the bloody, destroyed wedding dress, she's gorgeous. A fuck should take care of it. Sink my cock into her warm pussy and then I'll be over my curiosity. Be rid of her.“Fucking brute," she mutters, stumbling when the soldier releases her. He did have a pretty firm grip but I'm sure it was because she asked for it. She seems like a woman who'd ask for it.He looks at me, waits for my nod, then goes. He'll be outside. Not that I need him to manage her. I can handle Portia Esmeralda with one hand tied behind my back.We study each other and for a moment, I see her on her knees at my feet again begging me to spare her brother. Not a word about herself.She's out of breath from the haul up the stairs or from her fight with the soldier. Not very smart if she wasted her energy on that.I continue to strip off my clothes, undoing my cuffs and two buttons on the front before pulling it off over my head. I follow her eyes as they take me in, her eyebrows knitting together momentarily, forehead wrinkling. Not sure if it's at that tattoos or the scars, but either way I stand there and let her have a good look.While she does, I do the same. I study her because there's something in those honey-colored eyes I don't understand. Something I crave to understand.Something that goes against everything I have learned is true.But fuck that shit.Pretty girls are a dime a dozen. There's nothing special about this one. She makes my dick hard. That's all I have to worry about.Hopefully.Callahan"Take off your dress," I tell her. Her eyes narrow and she cocks her head to the side. She's petulant.A giant-sized pain in the ass.But a nagging voice tells me there's more than those things. It'd be simple if she were just those things. And I know exactly what it is. She's loyal. A trait not easily come by in my line of work. She humiliated herself, threw herself at my feet to save her brother.It's too bad she's loyal to the wrong side."Are you hard of hearing?" I ask. She just glares.I gesture to the gown. “It's dirty. You're covered in blood and brains. Not to mention it's fucking ugly. Idon't want you to dirty my things."Her eyebrows rise on her forehead. “You don't want me to dirty your things?”"Correct.""I want my veil. Your goon wouldn't let me get my veil before he dragged me out of there."I snort at that, take off my shoes and socks, undo my belt and pants. I turn and walk toward the bathroom, stopping at the door to look back at her momentarily."I though
PortiaI stand at the wall and watch the door close. I don't breathe until it does. I don't move until his footsteps have receded and a full minute has passed.Punish her cousin.Shit.He could have threatened to throw me back into the cell. Could have threatened me bodily harm. But he's too clever for that. He knows I'll obey if he threatens Nathan.Face down, ass up.I can't even begin to think about that part because, what the hell just happened?And the comment about no one coming in. Who would come in? My uncle? I'm an enemy to every single person in this house. I guess he wants to be sure I'm in one piece when he gets back to do what he thinks he's going to do.I shake my head, try to clear that thought and the ones that follow. Because I'm not stupid. He doesn't need my permission to do anything.I look down at myself, at the torn, ruined dress, then shift my gaze around the room. I thought maybe we were at Fernando's compound where he'd been keeping me the days leading up to t
Portia While I'm here I search through the drawers to see if there's anything I can use as a weapon, if I need to.I chuckle to myself at the thought.If I need to.I will need to. He's told me what he plans to do. Is that really the only reason my cousin and I are alive?And is Nathan truly alive? Or did he just say that to appease me? To ensure I wouldn't fight too hard when he lays his hands on me?I wish I could trust his words that Nathan was really okay. But you don't trust a man scarred and blinded by revenge.You don't.No. I can't think about that. Nathan is alive. I have to believe that. I return to the bathroom and pull the towel off my head. Rummaging through his drawers, I find a brush. I meet my reflection and peer closer, shifting my gaze to the right to see the bruise high on my cheekbone where the skin is cut.Probably happened on the floor of the cell. I'm surprised I'm not more badly hurt although my head aches. Setting the brush down, I open the medicine cabinet a
CallahanI can't help but wonder if Portia felt anything at all, watching her brothers executed. She barely flinched. What could they have done to her to make her hate them so much? They're her brothers for crying out loud. Her own flesh and blood.I'm sitting in the boardroom along with Antonio, two of the family attorneys, my uncle and two representatives from the charity to which I've made a sizeable donation. Diamente didn't accompany me to this meeting. This is the legitimate side of things. He's in charge of the other side.One of the women is ogling me from across the table and I'm trying to avoid having to look at her. I'm only half-listening as I turn the diamond link on my cuff around and around, bored out of my skull.“Callahan," Uncle David starts. "Are you even listening?" He smiles to the women and gestures for me to get my head out of my ass and pay attention. But I can't be fucking bothered."No, not really, Uncle." I get to my feet as he clears his throat, looking ann
CallahanCerberus, my German Shepherd, enthusiastically greets me when enter the house. I smile, crouching down to pet him. He's been with me for two years. A loyal companion.Antonio is spending the night in town. I can't blame him. I'm not a lot of fun these days and now that we're back in the land of the living, he's making up for lost time.Servants have cleaned more of the house in my absence. More dust cloths removed, almost the whole of the downstairs looking lived-in now.The house is huge. Well, it's a compound, a safe place. It should have been, at least, and it will be again now that I'm back. For all intents and purposes, the island is only accessible by sea or air. Guards stationed in a watchtower. The building itself is six centuries old. A castle for a nobleman whose name I can't remember.Another damn thing I can't remember.My family purchased the house more than five-hundred years ago when the owner's family fell out of favor with the ruling party at the time. We've
Portia"Jesus!" I'm startled at the look of the very large and very excited German Shepherd that comes through the door.Callahan turns to look at me with a grin on his face-asshole which is gone the instant the giant hound sniffs me then sets his head on my lap, tail wagging like we're old friends.I admit, this is a scary looking dog but they're usually the sweetest. It's the little fuckers you have to watch for. I still remember a friend's yappy poodle chasing me around the dining room table on my first visit to her house when I was barely five."Well, hi there. What's your name, sweetie?" I ask him in a voice that makes Callahan roll his eyes as I lean down to cuddle the dog.Callahan mutters something under his breath. I don't hear what it is, but he sounds annoyed. Good."Cerberus. Here." He points beside him, but Callahan nuzzles his nose into my hair behind my ear. "Christ," he mutters and tugs the dog away. “Sit.""Hey!"The dog whines but sits, just barely, tail still waggin
Portia "Hey." I try to claw his arm off. “Where are we going?”He stops, looks back at me. “You saw your brother. He's fed. He's unhurt. Let's go.""That's not really fair.""It's exactly what you asked for.""But...no. That's not...I want to talk to him. Can he come upstairs, please? He's harmless." I gesture to Nathan as if to make a point."Are you warm?" Callahan asks Nathan over my head."I...guess." I forget how young he is. Just a kid. So unlike Vincent and Gregory were. “I have a blanket." He points to it as if he doesn't want to be any trouble.Callahan turns back to me. "You'll visit tomorrow." He pulls me to the stairs."He's probably scared down here all alone.""I think he's old enough to no longer be afraid of the dark. Let's go. If you give me trouble, you won't see him again."I go with him because I don't have much choice. "Does that mean we'll both be alive tomorrow?" I ask when we're upstairs.He releases me, looks down at me. Sweeps his eyes over my — his — clot
CallahanI don't look at my mother's portrait when I pass it, but turn the corner into a darker corridor. I make my way to my study thinking about what Portia said. That I have my mother's eyes. It's such a strange comment to make. Especially from her.Once inside, I close the door. The desk lamp is on. I set the whiskey bottle down, pull my sweater over my head, and sit before pouring another into a glass Lenore left on the desk. She worked for us before, too, and has been living with her family for the ten years since the massacre. She was one of the few people who knew Antonio and I were alive.I took three bullets during the attack. Two to my torso, One to my head. They'd mistaken me for a soldier or I'm sure I would be dead now. No execution style killing for me. But I did watch from my place on the bloody marble floor that mom loved so much. I remember how cold it felt, even in the July heat. How that small, inconsequential detail stood out.My older brother and father were al