“Who the fuck is it?”

I balled my fist and pounded on the door again at the sound of my father’s voice. A roach skittered in front of my foot and through the wide gap under the door of room 213. I hope he steps on it barefoot.

The window air conditioning unit kicked on, a pitiful whine that morphed into an overworked wheeze as it strained to keep up in the heat. Pink paint peeled from the edge of the door frame revealing the piss-yellow that had coated the metal before. Six Michelob bottles were lined up against the railing across from the room next door, divots in the cement walkway in front of them. Target practice at close range.

The curtain moved. Seconds later, the door opened. My father’s evil face appeared, and his smug expression made my stomach drop. He’d lured me again. I knew better than to come to this dump of a motel, yet I’d done it anyway.

His cheap-ass suit reeked of even cheaper cigars. To think I’d once believed my father to be a sharp dresser. Once I’d seen men in real tailored suits, I realized he was just a piss-poor imitation.

He raked his eyes over my own suit, judging me down to my shoes. “Well, well. Aren’t we the big man?”

My fingernails dug into my palms as I struggled to contain my temper. He was making fun of me when he wanted something from me? I had to get out of there.

“We’re done here.”

I took a step toward the stairs and he caught me by the shoulder. “The hell we are.” He squeezed and dragged me into the room. We were the same height now, but I hadn’t filled out yet. I worked on it every single day.

“Take your hands off me.” I surprised myself at the calm in my voice.

My father dug into my shoulder to spite me. Always had to prove a point.

“What did you have to do to earn that suit? I doubt you’ve got the balls to kill anyone,” he taunted, kicking out the one chair at the small table near the window before he dropped into it. The lamp on the nightstand put off a yellow glow in the otherwise dark room. He tipped a bottle of scotch toward an empty glass, liquid splashing out on the cracked fake-wood table.

“I’m a busy man,” I said, ignoring the jab.

He laughed, tossing half of the drink down his throat. “You’re no man. Never have been. Always hiding behind your mother’s skirts.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Do not talk about her.”

“Try and stop me.” He polished off the drink and looked at me like I was nothing. “Once that cunt got you, she never wanted to put out anymore. She was a hell of a fighter, I’ll give her that, but not strong enough to keep me from fucking her whenever I wanted to. I don’t know why I bothered—”

I had my hands wrapped around his throat before he finished the sentence. His eyes widened as I picked him up from his seat and slammed him against the wall. He grabbed at my forearms and struggled to loosen my grip. Fury fueled me. I was too strong, and I enjoyed it as he fought me and lost.

“I deserved more than what she had for enduring her buttoned-up pussy,” he managed to say through his shrinking windpipe. I increased the pressure, my knuckles turning white. “Like. A. Robot,” he said between breaths. His eyes danced. He didn’t think I’d kill him. He thought I was a joke.

“Shame she died so young,” he coughed out. ”Don’t you think?”

My ears rang as the implication of his words bounced around in my head. I demanded an answer without saying a word, and he smiled. I cut off his airflow, snarling as I gripped his neck with all the force I had.

“You son of a bitch.” I shook him as rage unlike I’d ever known took hold.

He turned white, but there was no fear in his eyes. “You’re just like me,” he rasped, his hands clutching me. “You can’t change your genes any more than you can change your destiny.”

The words were a gut punch, breaking through the haze of anger. If I killed him, I would be no better than him. I refused to be my father’s son. My head cleared as I realized this.

I shoved him against the wall. With one final squeeze, I let him go. He dropped to the floor, spluttering as he clutched his throat.

I stood over him, my nostrils flared. “Fuck you.”

I slammed the door on my way out and flew down the stairs. Climbing on my motorcycle, I sped off, making it to the closest service station, though I had no idea how I got there. It took me three tries to shove a coin into the payphone just outside the entrance to the mini-mart. My fingers trembled as I pressed the worn-out buttons.

“Salvatore.”

“He killed her,” I said breathlessly. My eyes stung with the acknowledgment. “He killed her.” This time my voice was barely above a whisper.

“Slow down, son.” The calm in Donato’s voice helped a little.

I sagged against the concrete block wall, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go. My vision went blurry. My chest heaved. One thought was on repeat in my head.

“He killed her.” Speaking the truth didn’t make it any easier. I doubled over, barely able to stand.

“Where are you? I’m coming for you.”

I swiped at my eyes, the back of my hand wet. “No. No.”

“Daniel.” The sympathy in his voice nearly sent me over the edge. I couldn’t stand it. Didn’t want it.

I straightened and held the phone away from me as I sucked in a deep breath. At least I could see again. “We’ll meet as planned.” The crack in my voice betrayed me.

A long pause floated across the line. “I’ll see you at three-thirty,” Donato finally said.

I hung up the phone with a limp arm and leaned against the wall for support. He killed her. He fucking killed my mother. And I couldn’t return the favor because that’s not what she would have wanted me to do.

My chest squeezed, and I swallowed hard. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be here with me now. I thought she died because she was sick, but he’d grown tired of her.

He killed her.

He killed her.

He killed her.

Three forty-five. Where was he? I stood from the chair I’d been waiting in for half an hour and went to the water fountain. I punched the button, a pathetic stream of liquid spurting from the spigot. I bent, wetting my lips.

I didn’t have the paperwork. If Donato didn’t show, I wouldn’t get my passport. Then I couldn’t get away from here. I needed to go to Vienna with him. The more distance I put between me and the monster who’s blood ran through my veins, the better.

I sat down again. God, these chairs suck. I tried to adjust to a more comfortable position on the plastic, but that was impossible.

If I’d gotten my driver’s license, I wouldn’t have needed him for this. It never occurred to me that Donato would let me down, especially on something this important. When we got back from our trip, I was headed straight to the DMV. I drove without a license all the time, but I was almost eighteen, and I needed legal ID so if I got pulled over, the police wouldn’t have an excuse to arrest me. I almost had enough saved to buy an apartment, one with enough space that I’d never feel cramped again. A whole floor. If I kept at it, I could buy a whole floor.

The glass door to the waiting room swung open. Donato came in, immediately finding me. I stood and met him halfway.

“I got held up,” he said.

My brows dipped, surprised he’d offered any explanation at all.

“They haven’t called me yet.”

He squeezed my neck affectionately and steered me toward the chair I’d vacated. “Ready for this? We’ll be gone a week. Maybe a little longer depending on how things go.”

I nodded, anxious to get away from New York, if only temporarily. “It’s just the two of us going?”

Donato had barely briefed me on the trip. We were going. That was about all I knew.

“Yes.” He flipped through the paperwork in the envelope he’d brought. “We’ll stop in Italy. I’ll show you where my grandparents are from, and we’ll pick up a few things for Valentina.” His lips turned up at the mention of his wife. She was a kind lady, like my mother. If I ever had a wife, I’d want her to be like them. Except I was never getting married. Everyone always left me. I was better off on my own.

“Daniel Elliott,” the clerk called.

We both stood and followed her to her office. Donato had come up with paperwork showing he was my legal guardian. He’d smashed the only roadblock to my first real form of identification. And when he tried to pay the fee, pride filled his eyes as I shut him down and took the cash from my own wallet. In what seemed like minutes, I had a passport.

“May I have a copy of the approved application?” Donato asked smoothly as we stood to leave the office.

The woman smiled and did it immediately. Someday, people would listen to me just like they did to Donato.

He slung an arm around my shoulders as we headed toward the parking garage. “We leave day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“You already are.”

I grabbed the helmet off the seat of my motorcycle. He leaned against the side of his Cadillac parked next to me.

“Are you begging for someone to steal that?” His gaze zeroed in on the helmet.

“At least I wear one.” It was nothing for me to drive without a license, yet I wouldn’t break the law about protective gear.

“You need a license. We’ll see to it when we get back.” I shrugged as if indifferent. “Do you have the ticket to get out of the garage?”

I dug in my pocket and produced the green stub with a glare. Shoving it back in, I threw my leg over the seat and straddled the bike with an annoyed huff.

“I don’t want you to ever think of him again. Do you understand me?”

I jerked my head to look at him, my face twisting in confusion. How could I stop? If I could just turn it off, I would.

“You won’t see him again. When you need something you come to me.” There was no room for argument in his tone. I wouldn’t anyway. He didn’t need to tell me not to see that bastard again. If I ever laid eyes on him again, one of us wouldn’t come out alive.

“Yes, sir,” I said, but I silently swore to myself that once I learned everything Donato could teach me, I wouldn’t need anyone but myself.

When I refused to look at him, he stepped closer. “Today was the worst. Tomorrow will be better.”

I glared at Donato as I booted the kickstand and revved the engine to life with all my aggression. What the hell did he know anyway? Today was by far one of the worst, but it would take a miracle to get better from here.