By Any Other Name (26 page)

"Of course."

Dante's gaze bounced between her and the closet door, skeptical. "Is it Jackson? Jesus, Genna, tell me it's not Jackson, that you didn't sneak that idiot in here with Dad home."

"It's not," she said quickly as he stepped right back into the room. "It's nobody."

Dante walked straight toward the closet when Genna jumped to her feet. She darted toward her brother to stop him, but he shrugged her off, grasping the knob. She felt queasy as she frantically tried to pull her brother away, but he was undeterred.

Please be hiding
, she thought.
Up on a shelf, in a fucking trunk, piled high with clothes… something
.
Anything. Don't let my brother see you
.

She chanted it in her head those few seconds when Dante hesitated, hoping Matty was smart enough to be out of sight, but her hope exploded when Dante flung the closet door open. Right in front of the doorway, barefooted and only half-dressed, his hair askew, stood Matty, his expression severe and shoulders squared as if preparing for a fight. Dante froze a mere few feet in front of him and blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned into silence, like he couldn't believe his eyes. Strained seconds passed, each one accented by the beat of Genna's terrified heart, as the two men who meant the most to her—her brother, and the one she had so willingly given her heart to—stared each other down with bitter hatred as if the world had been put on pause.

All at once, the impasse came to an end. Swiftly, in the blink of an eye, Dante reached into his waistband and whipped out the pistol he always carried. Genna let out a startled yep, tears stinging her eyes, as Matty slowly raised his hands in immediate surrender. Sober now, his eyes betrayed his stern expression, fear shining through as his panicked gaze flickered to hers.

"Dante, please," Genna pleaded, grabbing her brother's arm, but he seemed to hardly even register her presence. "Let me explain."

"Dad!" Dante shouted, so loud his voice cracked. Genna cringed, her ears ringing. Her panic intensified. "Get up here, Dad! Quick!"

No, no, no
. "Please," she pleaded, shoving past Dante to wedge between the guys. She held her arms out defensively as she stood in front of Matty, her wide-eyes imploring her brother. "Please, Dante. Don't do this!"

"Move, Genna," Dante ground out, aiming right over her left shoulder… right at Matty's heart. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm already hurt!"

That drove Dante's attention to her. "He hurt you?"

"No,
you're
hurting me," she said frantically, stepping to the side, her face lined straight up with the muzzle of her brother's gun. If he planned to shoot Matty, he would have to go through her first. "Please stop this, Dante. Don't do this!"

Dante's expression shifted, rage clouding his face. His free hand snatched ahold of Genna's arm so tightly she winced. Dante yanked her away, shoving her behind him, before he stepped toward Matty, gripping his pistol with both hands. Matty instinctively took a few steps back as Dante cornered him in the closet, trapping him. "I don't know what your plan here is, Barsanti, but it isn't going to work. You think you can poison my sister against us, that you can use her to get to us?"

"Dante!" Genna cried out, trying to stop him again, but he hardly wavered. He sounded just like Enzo. "Please, stop, for me!"

"You don't know what you're asking, Genna," Dante ground out before raising his voice once more. "He's one of
them
."

"You don't understand," Genna cried out, tears burning her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. "I love him, Dante! I
love
him!"

Those words caught Dante off guard for the second time that night. He faltered, turning his head slightly to gape at her. "You love him?"

"I do," she cried. "Don't do this, please. Please. You owe me."

"I
owe
you?"

"You said you owed me, that anything I needed, all I had to do was ask," she said. "So I'm asking… I'm begging…
please
don't do this."

Dante hesitated as the sound of footsteps neared, ascending the stairs.

"Dante?" their father called out. "Where are you?"

"Please," Genna whispered, her voice quaking. "For me."

Dante took a step back, eyeing Matty hard for a moment before looking away and lowering the gun. "In Genna's room, Dad."

Before Genna could protest, Dante stepped out of the closet and shut the door with Matty still inside. Genna wiped her face, shaking as their father's footsteps hurried down the hall. He stepped into the doorway, pausing as he assessed his children. "What's going on in here?"

"It was just a mistake," Dante said. "Thought I saw a rat."

Primo's brow furrowed. "A rat?"

"Yeah, a rat."

Primo stared at him briefly before his eyes turned to the gun in his hand. "And you were going to what? Shoot it?"

Dante forced out a laugh as he slipped the gun back away. "Force of habit. Like I said, though, it was a mistake. Right, Genna?"

"Yes," she whispered. "A big mistake."

"Ah." Primo glanced between them, his gaze settling on Genna. "You okay, sweetheart? You're flushed."

"I'm not feeling well," she said. At least it wasn't a lie. Bile burned her chest. She wanted to throw up.

"Well, get some sleep," Primo said. "I'll tell the men you said goodnight. And I'll call an exterminator tomorrow, you know, to make sure there aren't any rats. I fucking hate them."

"Thanks," she said, closing her eyes with relief when her father walked away. Nobody said anything, the attention focused on the sound of footsteps as they descended the stairs again. Once he was gone, Dante reopened the closet door and stood between Genna and Matty, severe eyes bouncing between them, scolding, judging.

"You get him the hell out of here," Dante spat. "And don't you ever ask me to do that again, Genna. I'd do anything for you—you know that—but you can't ask me to do this. You can't ask me to
accept
this."

"I'm sorry," she whispered as her brother started walking away.

"You will be," he said, matter-of-fact. "If you don't stay away from him, Genna, you
will
be sorry."

"Don't threaten her." Matty's voice made Genna flinch as he stepped out of the closet, protectively wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him.

"I'm not threatening her," Dante said angrily, eyes narrowed at Matty. "The only threat to her here is
you
, Barsanti."

"I'd never hurt her," Matty said.

"Maybe not," Dante said. "But that doesn't mean you wouldn't
get
her hurt. I dare you to deny that. I dare you to fucking deny that being with you won't get her hurt."

"I'll protect her."

"Maybe you believe that," Dante said, "but I learned long ago not to trust my family's safety around a Barsanti, and I'm not going to ignore that now, no matter how much my sister begs me."

Dante stormed out, not even looking at Genna again. She stood there for a moment, trying to get her heart to slow down, as she seemed to melt back into Matty's embrace.

"This is going to get us killed, isn't it?" she whispered.

Matty let out an exasperated sigh as he held her tighter. She hoped he'd contradict her, say something to set her mind at ease, but instead he mumbled a response that made her stomach sink.

"Probably."

Before Savina Barsanti was even lowered into the ground that dreary summer afternoon, plans were set into motion, sparking flames of animosity that had been smoldering for years. After nightfall, as Matty sought support in Genna's embrace, found solace in her warm flesh, the fight between their families violently rekindled as both sides crossed borders under the cloak of darkness, sneaking and scheming, stealing and stalking.

Slaughtering
.

Come morning, when the smoke cleared from that first night of destruction, leaving usually quiet parts of Manhattan suddenly tainted by violence, the first blood had already been spilled.

Two Galante soldiers lay dead on the grungy asphalt in Soho, just a few blocks from The Place, gunned down as they crossed the street. Nobody knew where they were going, or what they were doing on that side of town. They'd been killed on sight, no questions asked, for merely venturing into enemy territory.

War had been declared.

Trucks were hijacked and stores were broken into, people assaulted and others robbed. It went on, night after night, no corner safe from murder and mayhem.

Matty sat at his usual table in The Place a few weeks later, eyes peeled on his notebook as he worked out the statistics in the margin of the paper, ensuring he was still ahead of the game. The Blackberry on the table in front of him rang and rang, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the men gathered around the tables and along the bar, waiting for their chance to place a bet for the weekend.

It was half past ten… he was already thirty minutes behind.

"Are you going to answer that?" Enzo asked exasperatedly from the seat across from him, motioning toward the still ringing Blackberry.

"No."

Enzo stared at him, his gaze piercing. "Are you almost done?"

"No."

"Are you ever going to get around to taking bets tonight?"

The word "no" was on the tip of Matty's tongue, but he swallowed it back. He would… eventually. Just not now.

"You've been slacking off lately," Enzo said, picking up his beer and taking a sip of it. "Dad's not happy about it."

"Yeah, well, instead of the unwanted promotion, I'm hoping he'll send me a pink slip."

Enzo laughed dryly. "Dad's pink slips come in the form of bullets to the brain."

"I know," Matty muttered, tossing his pen down and glancing around the bar, skimming right over the studious waiting eyes to look for the waitress. He spotted her, motioning for her to bring him a drink, before turning to his brother. "It's a twenty-cent line again this week."

Enzo guzzled the last of his beer. "You can count me out."

"Why?" Matty asked. "Afraid you'll lose?"

"Hell yeah," Enzo said. "And if there's anything I've learned, it's that I hate losing a hell of a lot more than I enjoy winning."

Shrugging, Matty reached for the Blackberry, picking up the ringing phone as Enzo stood up and walked away. Matty answered the phone with an exasperated sigh. "Yeah?"

There was no small talk. The men blurted out their bets and Matty jotted them down, knowing names the second he heard their voices. In between calls, others from the bar came by, making bets in person, handing their money over for Enzo to keep. It was methodic and tedious, Matty's mind wandering as he kept tallies of the bets and the running totals in case he needed to adjust his figures.

A few minutes before midnight, he shut it down, tearing out the page of bets and slipping it across the table to Enzo. The waitress sauntered over, bringing him another drink without him having to order one as his brother scanned the list.

"Start late, end early." Enzo folded the paper and put it in his pocket for safekeeping. "Your heart's just not into it anymore, is it?"

It never was
, Matty thought, sipping his drink. "Too much else on my mind."

Enzo nodded knowingly, his cautious gaze shifting around the bar. "Nobody knows yet, if that's what you're worried about."

Yet
. The key word, one that made Matty's head hurt just acknowledging it. Nobody around there had figured out about him and Genna yet, but it was only a matter of time before the wrong person caught wind of it. They had intentionally stayed away from each other the past few weeks, knowing it was too dangerous to risk being caught together again right now, but it was wearing on his nerves, uncomfortably burrowing under his skin. Some short, vague text messages and a few whispered, rushed phone calls did nothing to satiate him when he needed
her
.

But he couldn't have her, not now, not when their families were on guard, watching their every move in an attempt to protect them, and he was starting to wonder if he could truly have her
ever
.

Not as long as our families are dead-set on killing each other.

"I can tell you haven't seen her," Enzo said.

"How?"

"You're more of a tightass than usual," Enzo muttered. "I'm starting to see why you like each other. You're both moody bitches."

"En," Matty warned, glaring at him. "Don't start."

"I'm just saying, you've been mopey as hell, and I get it… it fucking sucks, bro. Trust me. I don't like this shit, either. But you're getting on my nerves with this
poor me
attitude."

"Trade places with me and see how you deal."

Enzo laughed dryly. "First of all, I wouldn't be in your shoes, because I wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for Medusa."

"En…"

He held his hands up. "She's ballsy, I'll give her that, and I wasn't lying when I said she was badass. But the fact remains… she's a Galante. And maybe you enjoy this whole star-crossed Shakespearian bullshit romance, maybe that appeals to you. To each their own. But don't dive headfirst in it and then try that
poor me
bullshit out on me. They call it tragedy for a reason. It can't end well. I know it, you know it, everyone fucking knows it, so start acting like it."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Matty ground out, gripping his glass so tightly his knuckles hurt from the strain.

"Something," Enzo said. "Anything."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Yeah,
easy
." Enzo shook his head as he stood up to leave. "It's real fucking easy, helping to break my brother's heart by taking from him what he loves…
again
. No sweat off my fucking back, right?"

Genna stirred the corn chowder around in the massive pot, ladling what was left of the goopy, puke-colored mixture into the disposable cups and sending them down the line. It was nearing seven o'clock, but she was in no rush to leave, no rush to go home.

She couldn't see outside the community center from where she stood behind the partition, but she knew what was out there, awaiting her. Dante would be lingering, parked right out front, leaning against the passenger side of his car to take her straight home for dinner.

And he wouldn't be alone. Others were positioned around the neighborhood, human shields, guarding the area from any unwanted visitors. Her father was having her followed, people watching her like a hawk every time she stepped foot outside of the house. He'd gone so far as to try to have her punishment lifted, her community service signed off on so she wouldn't have to venture away from the house anymore, but she insisted on going anyway.

Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was to piss her father off.

Or maybe it was because, foolishly, she hoped Matty would find a way to come by undetected.

Seven o'clock rolled around, the food already gone for the day. Genna untied her apron and pulled it off, tossing it in the hamper. Instead of heading for the door, however, she grabbed the empty pot and lugged it back into the kitchen.

"Heading out?" the coordinator asked.

Genna shook her head. "I'd rather stick around."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

Truth was, as much as she used to look forward to hanging out with her brother, as much as she used to cherish their time together, just the few minutes in the car with him now was practically unbearable. The strain between them was suffocating, ever since Dante had discovered her secret. When he looked at her, she could see the judgment in his eyes, the disgust, the lack of comprehension of how she could love someone like
that
, someone like Matteo Barsanti.

You don't know him
, Genna thought every time her brother looked at her that way, but she never said it. He wouldn't understand. He couldn't. His animosity ran deep, cemented inside of him by the thickened scars on his chest.

She washed dishes and wiped down tables, helping out every way possible, until she was out of excuses to stick around. It neared ten o'clock when she finally strolled toward the door and stepped outside, her eyes immediately drawn to Dante. He still stood there, pacing the sidewalk in front of his car, the streetlight shining down on him. He was on his phone talking to someone, his voice quiet yet firm.

Turning, he caught sight of Genna standing there and paused, opening the passenger door for her to get in the car as he continued his call. Once she was inside, he slammed the door and climbed in behind the wheel.

"No, don't worry about it," he said into the phone, his voice strained. "I'm sure… I'll head over now and handle it."

He hung up, letting out an annoyed groan as he tossed the phone aside and started up the car.

"Problem?" Genna asked hesitantly.

"You could say that," he muttered, swinging the car around in traffic. "I need to go to Little Italy."

"You can drop me off at home first."

"Nobody's at home."

"So?"

"So," he said, "I'm not dropping you off there alone."

"Are you kidding me? I can't even be home by myself?"

"Not right now, no. It's not safe."

"You're being paranoid."

"And you're
way
too fucking trusting, Genna." He cut his eyes at her, that familiar abhorrence in his expression. "For all I know, this could just be a diversion, their way to get you alone, to isolate you, so they can get to you without one of us being around."

Genna rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, a small part of her wishing that were so. At least then she would know it was possible to see Matty again. It had been so long—
too
long.

Dante sped through the streets, heading south to Little Italy. Despite it being dark out and most places closed for the night, the neighborhood was alive with action. People hung out on the corners, buildings lit up, music blaring and cars whizzing around the streets. Dante sped past the little café and turned onto Mulberry Street, pulling the car into the first parking spot along the street that he came to.

"Wait here," Dante said, his tone serious. "Whatever you do, Genna, do not get out of this car."

She didn't humor him with a response as she slouched down in the seat, mock saluting him instead. Dante got out, slamming the door, using his keys to lock the doors behind him. Genna laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh. She felt like a little kid with the way her family was treating her.
Ridiculous
.