I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself, but my hands trembled and my legs felt unsteady. My life had been struggle and failure and one messed-up situation after the other ever since I left my parents.
I had nothing more than a high school diploma, and even that wasn’t enough. I took a couple fast food jobs, but they never worked out. The schedule wasn’t flexible enough, especially when I was never sure when I’d have a bed and a shower. I’d miss a shift or two and end up fired before I could pick up enough cash to find a room to rent. I drifted through the city, met a bunch of fucked-up people that wanted to use me up and leave me broken, that wanted to get me strung out on heroin or worse, that wanted to sell my body, that wanted me to sell their crack.
But I never gave myself to them. Instead, I fought. I lost more than once, but I always fought. I learned to steal, how to survive. I got scarred and hardened, and Cam was never there, not that I could blame him. I chose to run and chose to stay gone. Living rough was better than staying in that house with my father and my mother. At least on the streets, I had a chance to keep myself alive. With my parents, I knew that at least once or twice a week I’d get my ass beat within an inch of my life while my mother watched, her head nodding forward, a needle stuck up her arm.
Cam didn’t speak for a while. He stared at me with a strange mix of disbelief and anger. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t throw me out or yell at me. I couldn’t blame him. I was a thief, a street urchin, a loser living in alleys, sleeping rough in abandoned houses. I wasn’t a junkie, wasn’t addicted, wasn’t selling myself, but I was still broken.
“Well, shit,” he said finally. “I guess that explains a lot.”
I glared at him and nearly screamed in his face. That was classic Cam, all freaking understatement.
“I just told you I’ve been homeless for two years,” I said. “And that’s all you say?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “What else do you want?” he asked. “You want me to say, don’t worry, Irene, I’m here to save you? Because I would, if you asked. But you don’t want that, do you?”
I took a few steps closer, planning in hitting him or clawing his eyes out—but stopped and slowly sank down onto the couch. I leaned forward, head between my knees, and squeezed my eyes shit.
“I never wanted this,” I whispered. “But what other choice did I have?”
“You could’ve stayed,” he said.
“And risk my dad killing me?” I looked up at him. “You know how bad it was.”
“You could’ve come and stayed with me.”
I laughed sharply. “You were a big mafia man.” I remembered it so clearly, the hurt and the anger when he told me that he joined the Valentino family. I saw the mafia guys around town, strutting like they owned the streets, and I hated them for it. They were a bunch of thugs, a bunch of narcissistic violent psychopaths, and Cam wanted to stoop low enough to join them. I hated him for it, and hated myself for how angry and alone I felt. I ran away not long after and lost myself for a while.
He opened his mouth, but a knock at the door made him stop.
“Expecting someone?” I asked.
He shook his head and walked into the kitchen. He took a gun down from the top left cabinet and hesitated before he pulled open the front door.
A handsome man stood out there, dark hair, big smile, slim suit that looked like it cost a fortune. “Morning,” he said. “Nice piece. Can I play with it?”
Cam grunted and shoved the gun into his waistband. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.
“What can I say, I’m a very hands-on Don.” The man moved past Cam and stopped when he spotted me. I didn’t know him, but I knew his type: slick and expensive and arrogant. He was Valentino all the way. “I didn’t know you had company.”
“Don Valentino, this is an old friend,” Cam said. “Her name’s Irene.”
Don Valentino. My heart stuttered and jumped into my stomach. He was Dean Valentino, the new young Don, the violent bastard that was ripping the city apart in his quest to destroy the Healy family. Thanks to him, half the street was on high alert, and life had been even rougher for me the past few weeks.
I didn’t say that, even though I wanted to. Probably should’ve.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You too,” he said, and laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Cam with a girl.” Don Valentino nudged Cam’s shoulder. “I was starting to think you were celibate.”