Gio

 

The room seemed to spin around Gio as he sat across from Carla, her last few words hanging in the space between them. His body felt numb and tingly, and his own pulse roared steadily in his temples. He kept his hands clasped tightly in his lap, hoping that would keep them from trembling.

 

He felt empty, and after a moment, he realized why. For his entire life, his anger had been an empowering tool, a weapon he could reach for in any situation, as ever-present as the guns he always had strapped to him whenever he left the house. He'd never made friends easily, but his temper was his most reliable companion.

 

Except now that he turned to his rage for support and guidance, he found it had deserted him. Hurt and betrayal stood in its place.

 

He asked himself if these outrageous things she'd told him could possibly be true. If his anger had been present, no doubt it would have screamed that these were ridiculous lies meant to drive a wedge between him and his father, and it would have commanded Gio to punish her accordingly.

 

But the hurt and betrayal simply nodded silently in response to the question, and as a chill rippled through Gio's body, he knew with terrible certainty that yes, these things were all true.

 

His father. Goddamn it, his own fucking father.

 

Through the steady throbbing in his head, Gio heard something that sounded like Carla's voice. He cleared his throat, trying to focus. “What?”

 

“I asked if you're okay,” Carla said.

 

Gio scrubbed his face vigorously with his hand, trying to make sense of it all. “Well, based on what you're telling me, my dad had another kid I never knew about who got whacked because he wanted to be a gangster. Then he had me, and my whole life, he never bothered to tell me that I came from a fucking test tube like someone's goddamn science fair project. And then he did everything he could to force me into being a gangster, whether I wanted to be one or not. So no, Carla, I'd have to say I'm about four or five thousand miles away from okay.”

 

“Gio, a lot of people are born from in-vitro fertilization,” Carla said. “It's a very common procedure. There's nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“Yeah, well, there is where I come from,” Gio grunted. “Grown in a fucking lab, and no one ever told me. Jesus Christ.”

 

Carla paused, then asked, “Gio, you just said Salvatore was killed. What makes you so sure? He could have left town again, gone into hiding...”

 

Gio shook his head. “No, he's fucking dead, okay? My father did it himself. It was written right there in his journals, along with the rest of his bullshit. That's why I asked you to look into who he was.”

 

Carla raised her eyebrows. “Journals?”

 

“And that's the other fucked-up thing,” Gio continued, standing up and pacing around the room. “All these years, all his crap about how blood loyalty is everything, you always do right by your blood...and he killed his own fucking kid. Didn't even send someone else to take care of it, you know? Did it himself.

 

And then he spends my whole goddamn life pushing me, bullying me, making me do all this horrible shit just to prove myself. You know he made me kill some other undercover Fed earlier this year? He could've sent anyone else to do it. He knew how much I hate doing that stuff, how sick it makes me, but no, he ordered me to do it anyway, and what was I supposed to do, huh?”

 

“He was my partner,” Carla said quietly.

 

Gio stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

 

“The man you killed with the car. Fred Masters. We worked together. He was my friend.” Her face was calm, but she sounded like she had a lump in her throat.

 

He stood, frozen in place, his jaw working soundlessly. Finally, he said, “I'm sorry. I didn't want to. Fuck, I didn't want any of this, this whole fucking life, and now I'm stuck in it. I've got no way out.”

 

Carla stood up, went to him, and took his hands in hers tenderly. He blinked at her in disbelief.

 

“How can you do that?” he asked. “After everything I've done to you? I blackmailed you, forced you to fuck me...I'm the animal who murdered your partner...”

 

“I know you're not an animal,” she replied gently. “You've done terrible things, but I know the horrors your father put you through, and I don't think you're really that person. And if you really do want a way out, Gio, I can give you one. I can take you far away from all of this so you can finally live the life you want.”

 

“You mean turn state's evidence against my father,” Gio said. It wasn't a question.

 

Carla nodded. “You mentioned journals. Does Mario really keep written records of all his criminal activities? He couldn't possibly be that stupid.”

 

Gio nodded. “Yeah, the asshole's got such a big fucking ego that he's positive no one could ever find them, or crack the code they're written in. But he's got all his heists in there, all his deals and sit-downs with the other families, and everyone he ever bumped off.”

 

“But you found them?” Carla prompted. “And you can translate the code?”

 

“Sure,” Gio answered.

 

“If we can get those journals,” she said, “and have you sign affidavits verifying their translations, we'll have everything we need to put Mario away for several lifetimes, along with all of his associates. We can put you in Witness Protection so you'll be safe.”

 

“But then what?” Gio asked. “This life, these people...it's all I know.”

 

“You can start a new life,” Carla told him. “You can do anything you want. Behind your whole gangster act, I've seen that you're a lot smarter than you let on. You could run another restaurant, legitimately this time. You could pursue your sexual needs without having to hide them from your father.”

 

“But not with you, right?” he said, his eyes suddenly filling with suspicion.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean once all this is over, I'll be in Arizona or Alaska or wherever the hell, and you'll have gotten what you need from me,” said Gio. He took his hands away from hers. “You'll go back to work trying to catch guys like me, and that'll be that. This whole 'take my hand, Gio, I really care about you' thing is just a con so you can get what you want from me. They probably taught you this shit in Fed school.”

 

Carla said, “Gio, I do care about you. I didn't expect to, but I do. I can see that your decisions haven't really been your own, and I really do want to help you. And...” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “I also didn't expect to enjoy being your submissive, but I did, and it's been a lot for me to try to work through. If you want us to keep exploring this relationship when this is all over, we can definitely talk about that. I'd like to.”

 

“No, bullshit,” Gio insisted. “All you Feds will say anything, promise anything to guys like me, if it'll get them to flip on their families. But you're lying, I know it. I can't trust anyone anymore.”

 

Carla took Gio by the shoulders and kissed him.

 

He hesitated for a brief moment. He wanted to remain suspicious of her—he didn't want to be some sucker who could be fooled by a kiss.

 

But as her soft lips pressed against his for the first time and their breath mingled gently, Gio felt himself swept away by the passion and sincerity of her kiss. He felt like a drowning man clutching his salvation and he held on tightly, embracing her, never wanting to let her go.

 

They stayed that way until it was time for the restaurant to open.