Wingless, book 1 of Wingless Series

Overload

I'm going to give him a chance to explain. I owe him that much. I don't know how I am going to feel afterwards, but none of that matters, so we walk.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"For what." I keep time with his feet.

"A few different things," he says, we stop at the crosswalk.

"Just tell me, and I will tell you if you should be sorry or not."

"How do I begin?"

"At the beginning," I say, as we round the corner. We are more or less alone. And the weather is atrocious, my hair is out of control and I am struggling to keep it from liftoff.

He stops right in the middle of an alley.

"What are you doing?" I'm afraid to be here. Who knows what is lurking.

"This seems private enough."

He takes my hand. I pull at the collar of my shirt, tapping my foot. I don't know what he means when he says explain.

"Okay." I purse my lips.

I can tell he is fighting a million thoughts, trying to find a way to get it out. He takes a deep breath.

"My real name is Evan Carlo. I haven't told you about my family because I don't know much about them. My mom was young when she had me. She gave me up a few weeks after I was born." He scratches the back of his neck. "I was raised by Donna until I was seven. And when she died I was taken in by Carlo."

"Where is Carlo?" I ask.

"He's in Jersey."

"What is he like?"

"He's taught me a lot. And if not for him, I wouldn't have a job, a family, or a place to call home." He looks away.

"He sounds like a good man," I tell him.

"To some, it's a matter of how you look at things." He smiles. "When I met you, for some reason I knew you wouldn't judge me."

"What do you mean?"

"You were out in the woods, drunk. And a guy like me wanders through and you don't freak out and run away," he tells me.

"I thought about it. I was scared," I admit.

"You didn't show it."

"No. I was trying to figure you out."

"That's why I keep telling myself that maybe you'll accept me."

"I want to, I really do." And I do. I want that more than anything.

"Why?"

"Because you accept me." I smile at him.

He gives a small smile. "That's what I want to hear. Whether or not you will stand by it is another story."

"Let me be the judge."

"I have two brothers, Carlo took them in too, and he made us a family. I think I will always be grateful to him for that. A lot of people consider him a monster. This is really hard." He bites his lip.

I raise an eyebrow, afraid to hear what's next.

"We were taught respect and how to earn it. And all three of us took to the family really quickly. After a while it was normal."

"I don't get what you're saying."

"Carlo is a very powerful man," he explains. "If you need a favor you come to him."

"Like the mafia?" I ask, in awe.

"It's sort of like that." He shrugs.

"Okay, so, favors. I'm sure that entails all sorts of things legal and illegal. I know that may be enough to scare someone away but it doesn't really bother me. Why would you think that would make me not like you? It's your family."

He doesn't show relief. Instead, he shakes his head, and sighs.

"You're not getting what I am saying. I am part of that family and me and my brothers work for Carlo. I don't think you understand."

"Okay. So you're employed by your father." I shrug.

"Eve, listen to me."

"I am listening. I don't know why you want me to be so disturbed. It's not that big of a deal. I know you enough to not feel threatened."

"Because what I do for him is disturbing, I don't steal cars or rough someone up. I kill them."

It's as if someone hit me in the head with a brick, my heart crashes in my chest. "Would you ever hurt me?"

"No."

"Okay. Are they bad people?"

"Sometimes they are," he admits, his body rigid, he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't seem any different from when I first met him. "You don't seem different to me." I touch his arm. He relaxes and takes my hand.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me. If you ever are, you say the word and I'll leave you alone." He squeezes my hand.

"I'm not afraid of you. I feel safe when I'm with you. There is one thing that would scare me though."

"What's that?"

"You getting yourself in trouble and me never seeing you again because you're in jail or something," I say a pain in my chest at the thought of it.

"That is not going to happen, believe me. Don't think twice about it."

"How do you know something like that?"

"Because, you don't know what this involves like I do." He stands up. The alley is even darker, but knowing what I know I don't care if a gang of fifty jumps out and declares war. It wouldn't have mattered to me.

"So why did you tell me your name is Ace?" I ask, taking his hand as we head back to my house.

"It's a nickname I had when I was a kid; I'm not really sure what made me say it."

"I like Evan. You look like an Evan," I tell him. "What does it feel like to kill someone?"

"It's not anything I think about when it's happening. I feel numb, like I'm not there." He shrugs, throwing his arm around me.

There are no words to describe knowing Evan's secret. The guy I am starting to like even more every time he is around kills people. And it disturbs me to think that it doesn't bother me.

I don't care that he's killed people, or how easy it probably would be for him to do the same to me. All that matters is how he makes me feel—and that is amazing.