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CLUB OMERTA

Death of a Sinner

Blurb

Death. The end of the life of a living organism. Final.

Except death isn’t always final. Sometimes ghosts come back to haunt you. Until they quickly learn that they would have been better off dead.

After all, everyone knows some secrets should just stay buried.

Chapter One

Her chest rises and falls with each breath. Watching Cammi sleep is one of my favourite pastimes. As long as her chest is moving, her heart is beating.

I still see her lifeless body on the ground of the university campus. It’s an image I’ll never be able to forget. An experience I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure I never relive.

For as long as I can remember, I thought I wasn’t the type of person who could be loved. Sure, my brothers all love me, but we’re not an overly affectionate kind of family. But with Cammi, it’s different. I’ve never felt the kind of love she has for me.

I always knew she was my ride or die. My wife is my biggest cheerleader. There isn’t anything I could do that would make her love me less. Trust me, in the beginning, I tried. I didn’t want to drag her down with me. I didn’t want her to have to sacrifice a normal life for me.

Because I’m fucked up beyond repair. There is no fixing my head. I’m better. Every day I’m a little better. When she’s around. I’m sure if I saw a shrink, they would tell me I have a co-dependency with my wife at an all-time unhealthy level. Good thing I’ll never visit a shrink.

I get up from the sofa, pick up my tin, and walk out of the bedroom. I was doing well. The nightmares were less frequent. And then a goddamn fucking ghost reared its ugly head and messed me up again.

Gio tells me to leave it dead. He says that nothing good can come from digging up secrets that were long buried. He doesn’t know what I know, though. He doesn’t have the questions floating around in his head constantly.

I could do what Cammi suggested a while back. It’d be easy to get a DNA sample from any of my brothers and find out if the shit my father spewed at me for all those years has any truth to it.

The only reason I haven’t done that is the what ifs. If that test confirms I’m not a De Bellis, where the fuck does that leave me? Who the fuck am I if not a De Bellis brother?

The name is both a blessing and a curse. Being a De Bellis opens doors that otherwise would not open for me. There’s money, power, and fear behind the name. All of which I happen to fucking love. There’s also the downside. The fact that every man and his dog thinks they can just come along and take what’s ours—what generations have built—puts a target on all of our backs. And my wife’s. And I have a huge fucking problem with that.

I move onto the balcony and sit down on the loveseat Cammi insisted we needed out here. She likes looking up at the stars on clear nights. I open the metal tin, the same one I’ve carried around for years. It belonged to her. My mother. The reason my head is fucked up and I can’t sleep.

I pull out a pre-rolled joint, press the end between my lips, and light it up. Taking a deep inhale and letting it fill my lungs before I release it. Smoke clouds the night air. It’s cold out here. Probably doesn’t help that I’m only wearing a pair of sweats. I didn’t want to chance waking Cammi up while searching for something to put on.

I don’t smoke as much these days. I know she worries about me. About my smoking. She doesn’t tell me not to do it, though. That’s the thing about my wife, her unwavering ability to overlook all my faults. She really is my own personal saint.

The glass door behind me slides open. Stubbing out the joint, I turn around to find Cammi stepping outside. “Did I wake you?” I ask her.

“No, the empty bed did,” she says. She sits next to me, her legs folded underneath her, and leans against my side, resting her head on my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

My arm wraps around her. I’m getting better at being able to touch her without needing her to ask me first. Hugs here and there. Holding her hand. I still need her verbal consent for sex, though. I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever be able to do without her telling me she wants it.

“Couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

Cammi’s fingers trace along my ink, up and down the Eiffel Tower tattoo. “You know I shouldn’t say this, but I hate her.”

“Who?” I ask. Cammi doesn’t hate anyone.

“The woman who gave birth to you. I hate her. I hate that she left you and your brothers. I hate that because of her, you never got to experience what it’s like to have a mother. I hate that you’re losing sleep now because of her.”

I lean over and kiss the top of Cammi’s head. “You can’t miss something you never had,” I tell her.

“But you can miss the idea of something,” she counters. She’s not wrong. “What are you going to do? You know I’ll be there for whatever you choose. If you choose to go and see her, I’ll go with you. If you choose to just let her stay buried, then I’ll go visit her gravesite with you.”

“I love you.” I squeeze her tighter to me. “Gio says to leave it alone.”

“Fuck what Gio says. This isn’t about what he wants. This is about what you want.” Cammi looks up at me. “Don’t think about what your brothers want to do. They don’t know the doubt your sperm donor filled your head with. Do what you need to do for yourself.”

I smile down at my wife. “You know you’re fucking hot when you get angry.”

“I can feel your pain, Vin. I can feel it when you hurt. And right now, you’re hurting. Don’t run from that. Do what you have to do to get answers. Or decide that you can live the rest of your life without them.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now kiss me like it’s the first and last time you ever will,” she demands.

“Never gonna be a last time,” I tell her before my lips land on hers.

Chapter Two

Aurelio stares back at me with a huge, drool-filled grin. I sit him in front of me on my desk, my hand wrapping around his back, supporting him so he doesn’t fall.

“I will never leave you,” I promise my son.

When I look at him, think about this innocent boy, I can’t understand how any parent could ever just walk away from their kid. How a father could subject their child to abuse.

I mourned her. For years, I mourned the death of my mother. I hated the man because I was sure he killed her. I plotted revenge for her. I was going to kill him for her.

Guess the fucking joke is on me, because the bitch is still here. She just left. Which means my anger is directed at her now. I’ve already killed one parent. I’m sure sending the other to hell won’t do my soul any damage. It’s already damned anyway. There is no saving it after the sins I’ve committed, and I’m at peace with that. There aren’t any depths I won’t go to in order to protect my family.

“You know, if you told me a few years ago that we’d be reduced to diaper changes and midnight feedings, I never would have believed you,” Gabe says, walking into my office. He’s not alone. He has Luciano with him. My nephew.

“Speaking of midnight, there a reason you’re here?” I ask.

When Aurelio woke up, I grabbed him before he could disturb his mother. She’s dead tired, and I’m used to running on little to no sleep. The job I have isn’t exactly a nine-to-five. My hours have always been unconventional.

“Your Uncle G is an ass, Luc,” Gabe says to his son.

“Uncle G ass,” my nephew repeats, which has Gabe chuckling.

“You know, Daisy is going to have your ass when he repeats that in front of her.” I raise a brow, and the bastard smirks.

“Pfft. Daisy happens to love my ass. Just last night, she had her nails digging⁠—”

“What do you want, Gabe?” I cut him off.

“To talk. What are we going to do about her?”

“About who?” I pick up Aurelio and hold him against my chest. His hands reach for my face, grabbing at my cheeks.

“Our mother.”

“Our mother is dead, Gabrielle. Leave her that way.” I don’t want that woman in my life. I don’t want her anywhere near my family. I raised my brothers. I did her job for her, and I’ll be damned if I let her come back and fuck with their heads now.

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious?” Gabe asks me.

“Not even in the slightest.” I stand and walk over to the wet bar. Shifting my son’s weight to the side before I pour two glasses of Cinque. I hand one to Gabe. “We don’t need her, and when we did, she bailed.”

“Surely there was a reason? I can’t imagine Pops was a cupcake to be married to,” Gabe says.

“Would you leave him behind because you didn’t like who you were married to anymore?” I ask, nodding towards my nephew.

“No. But I’d also never leave my wife,” he says. “I am curious, though. Maybe there’s something we don’t know.”

“I don’t care if the fucking Pope told her to leave us with the monster. A decent mother would have fucking stayed or at the very least tried to take us with her.”

“Fucking!” Luciano repeats.

“Fuck, that one’s going to come back to bite me in the ass,” Gabe grunts.

“Leave her dead. We don’t need her. We have built our own family, a family we need to protect at all costs,” I tell him.

“You’re right.” He nods his head.

“I’m always right,” I remind him. The door opens and Eloise walks in, wearing a silky black nightgown. “Don’t look.” I point to my brother. “Ellie, go back to bed. You need to sleep.” I close the distance and kiss her forehead.

Ellie plucks our son out of my arms. “Is that your way of telling me I look like shit because I’m tired?” she asks.

“You look beautiful.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Ellie shakes her head before turning to my brother. “What’s going on? Where’s Daisy, and why are you here in the middle of the night?”

“Daisy is right here, and we’re here because my husband insisted we all pack up and come over to see Gio,” my sister-in-law replies as she strolls into the room. Which is exactly when Luciano decides to repeat a word he really shouldn’t.

“Fucking!” my nephew babbles.

Gabe points at me. “It was Gio.”

“Where the fuck is the loyalty, bro?” I ask him.

“She’s scary.” He shrugs.

“She’s your wife,” I deadpan.

“Exactly, which means she can torture me in ways no one else can.” He smirks.

“Okay, this is… whatever… I’m taking him back to bed. Daisy, try not to kill them.” Ellie walks out of my office.

“See yourselves to the door. You two moved out for a reason. Try to remember it,” I tell Daisy and Gabe before following my wife upstairs.

Chapter Three

I walk into the bedroom, hear the water running, and smile. Aria is in the shower. The thought of my wife naked always brings a smile to my face. I push through the door and start removing my clothes.

“Santo?” Aria asks.

“Who the fuck else do you think is walking into the bathroom when you’re naked?” No one who values their life. That’s for sure.

“Mmm, I have many admirers, Santo.” Aria laughs.

“Who? I’ll kill every last one of them,” I tell her, opening the glass door and stepping inside the stall.

“No need for a killing spree. You know I only have eyes for you,” she says.

Even though I know Aria is joking, it still doesn’t sit right with me. I trust my wife, but after finding out what my ex-fiancée did, I don’t trust my own judgement half the time.

Aria’s hands cup my face, forcing my gaze to meet hers. “I’m not her, Santo. I am loyal to you and only you.”

“I know.”

“It was a bad joke. I’m sorry.” She leans in and presses her lips to mine.

“It’s okay.” It’s not my wife’s fault I have hangups. “How about I help wash the… hard-to-reach places?” I suggest.

“Oh, and what places would those be?” Aria asks me.

I pick up the loofah and squirt her bodywash on it. The shower fills with a fruity aroma. I fucking love the smell of her. “Here,” I reply as I begin lathering up her breasts.

“Mmm, I think I can reach those.” She sighs.

I run the loofah down Aria’s stomach, straight towards her pussy. My favourite place on earth. “Here?” I ask as I rub at her cunt.

“Mmm, I can reach there,” she tells me, her hands gripping my upper arms.

“Doesn’t matter. This is mine. Which means it’s mine to clean.” I drop the loofah, replacing it with my fingers. Slamming two right into her tight, wet opening.

“Oh shit, Santo,” Aria moans. “We… we… don’t have time for this.”

“We always have time for this, darling.” I smile again, loving the way her features twist up with pleasure. My fingers pump in and out of her faster until she’s coming all over my hand.

* * *

“You know, it’s your fault we’re late.” Aria turns and looks at me as we walk up the front steps of my brother’s house.

“Actually, it’s your fault,” I tell her.

“How so?” Her brows raise at me in question.

“If you didn’t have such a fantastic pussy, I wouldn’t be addicted to it and I wouldn’t be trying to fuck it every time I get in the same room as you.”

“Oh my god! Santo, no. Just no.” Aria shakes her head at me.

I shrug. “I’d rather be at home continuing what we were doing than be here right now.”

“This is your family,” Aria scolds.

“Our family,” I correct her.

“And I love them. I love these big family dinners. I never had that growing up, and I’m really glad that our future kids will have this too one day. Family dinners, cousins to run around with…”

“There won’t be a single thing our future kids won’t have,” I promise her.

“Having things and having love are not the same. I would pick love over everything else,” she says as we walk through the door.

“Uncle San, Uncle San.” Luciano comes running up to me. Bending down, I pick up my nephew and smother his chubby cheeks with kisses while he laughs.

“Hey, you’re late,” Daisy says, taking her son from my arms. “Again.”

“It’s his fault.” Aria points at me.

“Mhmm, sure.” Daisy smirks. “Come on. Gabe is getting hangry and neither of you has to live with him.”

“You chose this life,” I remind my sister-in-law.

We head into the dining room, where everyone else is seated around the table. I make a beeline for Cammi, kissing her head and greeting her first, before I move on to Eloise and then Zoe. It’s no secret that Cammi is my favourite sister-in-law. I don’t know why I connected so well with her. Perhaps it’s because she’s young. She and Vin are the youngest out of all of us. And yet, sometimes I think they’re the most grown up too.

“Sorry we’re late,” I say, taking my seat next to Aria. My hand lands on her thigh.

“No, you’re not.” Marcel laughs. “You’re late every fucking week. Some of us actually want to eat before the food goes cold.”

“Language.” Daisy glares at Marcel.

“What? He’s a De Bellis. You know he’s going to cuss like a baby sailor anyway.”

“No, he is not.” Daisy aims a finger at Marcel.

“Okay, can we get on with the eating part?” Gio grunts.

It’s not until halfway through the meal that someone mentions the elephant in the room. That someone being Marcel.

“So what are we doing about the curse? Just pretend it’s not alive and living in a filthy MC clubhouse?” No clarification is needed. We all know he’s referring to our mother.

“She’s dead,” Gio insists.

“You kill her?” I ask him. I don’t care either way. I have the same kind of hatred for our mother that my oldest brother does.

The younger ones, though, they don’t remember her like we do. They never knew her. She wasn’t a bad mother. When she was around to do the mothering. But then she walked out and left us behind with the monster that was our father. If she hadn’t done that, Vin wouldn’t have had to go through what he did.

And that pisses me the fuck off. Fuck, I might kill her if someone else hasn’t.

“Not yet,” Gio answers calmly.

Chapter Four

Cursed. I’ve always known our family was cursed. I thought it was in the love department. And really, if you look at how each and every one of us has had to fight for our relationships, then you could see how my theory is feasible.

But recent events have me thinking the woman who birthed us started this whole thing. Cursed us. I’ve always had good thoughts when it came to our mother. Now, even thinking about her has me wanting to throw up. She’s not a mother, because a mother wouldn’t do what she did.

I knew she was alive for a lot longer than my brothers. I kept it to myself, almost believing I made the whole thing up when I saw her in that clubhouse. I wanted to believe that I was seeing things, that the woman just looked like her.

Then I dug into it more and confirmed it was her. She was living her life as if she didn’t have a care in the world. I guess she didn’t, considering she left her five children with a fucking monster.

What does that make her? She knew what our father was like, and she left us with him. There is nothing she could possibly say that would excuse it either. Which is why I’m with Gio when it comes to his whole no contact thing.

“You okay?” Zoe asks, sitting herself on my lap. Her legs on each side of mine and her arms around my neck.

“I have the hottest woman in the world on top of me. What’s not to be okay with?” I smirk at my wife, my hands wrapping around her hips, pulling her core against my now-hard cock.

“Smooth, Marcel. But seriously, you look like something is bothering you,” Zoe insists.

“It’s the whole our mother coming back from the dead thing. I have a bad feeling about it. I don’t know what, but shit is going to hit the fan,” I say.

“Have you spoken to your brothers about it? Like really talked about it? Not just the quick we don’t need her bullshit that got spewed out over dinner the other night.” Zoe does an impression of Gio, which makes me laugh.

“No.”

“Typical. Men are useless.” She shakes her head. “You should talk to your brother. Tell him what’s bothering you. This isn’t your fight to fight alone. Whatever it is, it affects all five of you,” she reminds me. “You’re really lucky to have brothers who are so loyal.”

“We,” I correct her.

“Huh?”

“We have brothers who are loyal. They’re your brothers too,” I tell her.

“Meh, I have no doubt that any one of them would push me in front of a grenade to save you.” She shrugs.

“No, they fucking wouldn’t. Because if they did, I’d kill them. But you’re right. I should go talk to Gio.” My hands move up her back. “Or you can lose your panties, take out my cock, and slide that hot little pussy of yours up and down on it.”

“Tempting, but I’ve got plans. You go talk to your brother. I’m going out with Daisy,” she says.

“Daisy? Doing what?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. Out of all my sisters-in-law, Daisy is the most likely to find trouble.

“The nail salon,” Zoe says. “Relax. We’re not robbing a bank.”

“Daisy wouldn’t rob a bank,” I grunt. “But she sure as shit would be the one taken hostage.”

“Why?” Zoe laughs.

“Because she’d try to talk her way out of it with the robbers,” I suggest. “I love you. Be safe.” I lean in and press my lips against hers.

“Always,” Zoe agrees.

* * *

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