Garden of Sins

41. How paths cross, Isabelle

Carter

I have not been home in six weeks. I haven’t talked to my father in six weeks. I haven’t seen my mother. I haven’t barked at my sister. No more non-verbal communication with my brother. For six weeks, I have been restless, roaming the streets, wandering around in the darkest alleys, taking drugs, banging idiots in the mouth, collecting money, and watching hookers strip. For six weeks, my life has been chaotic. I haven’t had a home in six weeks and yet, I have you, Isabelle.

How is it possible that a single person can mean as much to another person in so little time as you mean to me? How is it possible that a heart can become so attached to another person even though you believed it was not possible? How is it possible that I can do all this shit with you that was unthinkable for me before? How is it possible I can touch you softly like never before? With you, I don’t have the urge to destroy. I want to protect you. I want to be there for you. For you, I can bear the sunshine even if I prefer the darkness. And with you, I love chaos. I don’t know where I go from here, but I know I can take the blame for anything if you’re here. And even if I’m more and more drawn to home every day, I can’t leave you behind. I don’t think I can ever leave you behind, Isabelle. You’ve bewitched me, cast a spell on me, put a fine ribbon around my heart and bound me to you forever. It’s all right. I’ve come to terms with it now. So, it is you, okay.

Right now, I’m on my way back from a job. I met with Dorian in XX. We talked about some things and he talked to some guys. Now I’m back on the highway and thinking about you. I still don’t know your last name. I don’t know where you come from or what you’re ru

Me from my i

Of course, I already have an idea. There is some evidence that suggests that you are anything but a normal woman. For example, your tattoo, baby — an M in the shape of a crown on your groin. That’s the Marino family emblem. The Marinos are one of Chicago’s largest mafia families and that tattoo is the hallmark of those descended from that great mafia family.

Are you a Marino, Isabelle? Are you an escaped mafia daughter? Is that what you’re ru

I think it is.

That’s dangerous. But do I keep my hands off you? No.

I’m not going to do any more research either because that could plunge me into a conflict of loyalties. Besides, you have a gun and a ton of cash in your suitcase. I have figured it all out, baby. When I confronted you about it, you panicked and irrationally tried to run away, barefoot, in my shirt, with sugar in your hair. I grabbed you, pressed you against me, and told you not to run away from me, no matter what. That I wouldn’t betray you, no matter what. I told you that you could trust me, no matter what happens.

Since when do I say that? Since when can I be trusted? I have no fucking idea, but with you, that’s just the way it is. Period. End of story.

I stop in the parking lot in front of the bar, which is crowded at this hour, and turn off the engine. I reach for the bag with the stuff I bought. Gummy worms, cans of coke, and nuts are your staple foods. Also good.

As I am about to get out of the car, my cell phone vibrates. I stop and pull it out of my pocket. Dorian has texted me again.

By the way, this is her, it says in the message and a picture follows. I remember back when I noticed earlier that he was talking to some men who were looking for his fiancée. She ran away from him at their wedding, which I can understand. Dorian is anything but a dream man.

The slowly loading image is probably a picture of Dorian’s lost fiancée. He told me to keep my eyes open because she has been gone for a while and he is ru

All of a sudden, the photo comes into focus and everything inside me stiffens. It can’t be true. That is you in the picture, without a doubt, even if you look completely different in it.

You stand next to Dorian, who has his arm around your shoulders, and your posture is rigid. You’re wearing a bun, or whatever that thing is called, and you’re discreetly made up. The smile on your lips is not real and your eyes do not shine, nor do you have your arm around him or lean against him, as you always do with me.

The blood in my veins freezes.

“Fuck!” I shout. “FUCK, ISABELLE!” I stare at the picture as if you have ten arms.

I can’t believe it.

So, you’re not only a mafia daughter, a Marino, but you’re engaged to the son of the most powerful man in Chicago. Dorian de fucking Luca! Mafia! Isabelle! You can’t just run away from Dorian de Luca. Do you have any idea what he’ll do to you if he catches you?!

He’s going to slaughter you!

I know what Dorian does to men, women, and people in general who don’t play by his rules. I’m one of those men who help him do all that, Isabelle. And, even though I’m not that deep in it at the moment, Caden and I have been carrying out small tasks for the de Luca family for four years now and, to be honest, I’ve been thinking for quite some time now about if I should commit to them completely.

I can’t breathe.

It swirls around in my head. Actually, I should tell Dorian that I have you right away. Actually, I should turn you in right now.

“FUCK!” I scream and bang on the steering wheel.

With one hand, I reach into my hair. Shit, what do I do now? If Dorian finds out that I knew where you were, not only will I be fucked, but Caden will be too. Then again...Dorian has no idea.

I take a deep breath and stare at myself without seeing.

He doesn’t know where you are. He doesn’t know I have anything to do with you. We’re not in a de Luca neighborhood.

BUT, ISABELLE, WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE IF YOU ARE RUNNING FROM HIM? Why are you still in town? Fuck, if he finds you...

Okay, this is one of those times when I really need Caden, one of those moments where I’m so conflicted, I can’t see a way through, and I don’t know what to do.

But Caden is not here. I did not want this, but I’m not going to lose my fucking nerve now.

Dorian doesn’t know where you are.

He doesn’t know I’m fucking you.

“FUUUUUCK!” I yell when I realize that.

There have been men in this circle who have died for looking at another man’s wife and Dorian is quite possessive, I know that and I know that type of man. Besides, he’s crazy, unpredictable, cold-blooded, and brutal.

Not the kind of man you mess with or fuck his fiancée. You want me dead, don’t you, Isabelle? I came into that bar just wanting to fuck and drink and now I’m in deep shit.

Tense and with a sweaty back, I open my door and get out. I grab my cell phone but forget the bag. Like a robot, I close the door and lock the car.

Fuck, Isabelle, we’re both going to die.

I mean, I can take on one, two, or three, but not all those de Luca men!