Page 10 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

GIANNI

H ours later, I’m alone in the interrogation room, staring holes into a two-way mirror and counting the seconds in my head to keep me from ripping the door off its hinges.

I’m on second forty-two of minute one hundred and twenty when Reese comes barreling through it, his face twisted with rage.

I barely get to my feet before he lunges, his hand clamping around my throat as he shoves me into the wall. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”

I grunt as my back hits concrete. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what happened.”

“How would I? I’ve been locked in this…” I trail off, one word in his tirade landing a hard kick to my chest. “What do you mean, she ? Did something happen to Becca?”

“No, something didn’t happen to Becca,” he shouts. “Your fucking family happened to her. You happened to her.” His voice shatters, his hand dropping from my neck as his eyes fill with tears. “All she did was trust you, and now she’s gone.”

I freeze. “What do you mean, ‘she’s gone’?”

“We had an argument as I was taking her home,” he says, slumping back against the table.

“She stormed inside, and I left. But I didn’t like the way we left things, so halfway to the station, I turned around.

When she didn’t answer the door, I walked around back and saw another broken window.

I knew I shouldn’t have left her there.”

A lethal rage simmers under my skin. The calm, calculated type of wrath that brings a grenade to a party with one finger curled around the pin. “What did you find?”

He looks up, his stare vacant. “Signs of a struggle, but no Becca. I have men out tracking leads, but I’m looking at my biggest one.”

“Reese,” I say coolly. “I wasn’t involved in this.”

“Then who took her? You’re the only one with a direct line to that monster you call a father.”

“Yeah? Two decades of dirty deposits to a Cayman Islands bank account say differently.”

I’ve never seen a man’s face pale so fast. Truthfully, I’d planned on holding onto that card a little longer, but Becca doesn’t have time for me to stand here using logic to convince her father of my innocence. Blackmail gets the job done a lot faster.

“W-what did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“I didn’t…” He drags a shaking hand across his mouth. “He didn’t…”

“I’m sure you both did. Laws protect the world, but money makes it turn; am I right, Chief?” I shake my head. “There were a lot of zeros in that account. No wonder you jumped through hoops to hide it.”

Too bad Owen sliced right through all of them. Once he found a loose thread in Reese’s finances, he kept pulling until the whole blood-soaked tapestry unraveled. The deeper he went, the more layers he found.

“My father is an unimaginative bastard, don’t you think?

” I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the wall because the scales have tipped, and I enjoy watching him squirm.

“Naming his shell corporation Rose and Dagger was a little too ‘catch me if you can,’ if you ask me. Not that anyone did, of course. I wasn’t familiar with that fun insignia until I arrived in Providence.

Maybe that was a private joke between you two. ”

His scowl turns venomous. “I never touched a dime of that blood money.”

I arch an eyebrow. “So you did my father’s bidding for free?”

“That son of a bitch murdered my wife and threatened my daughter. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not sell your soul, for starters.”

“I didn’t…” Exhaling, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous. How did you even find?—?”

“I’m not doing the whole Scooby-Doo ending thing with you, Reese.

The bottom line is I have a friend with very little social life and even less respect for personal boundaries, and your partner-in-crime was stupid enough to name one of his extortion enterprises after my mother.

Now, here we are. You have me in cuffs, and I have you by the balls, so either lock me up or let me go because if my father has Becca, her time is ticking. ”

A heavy silence stretches between us. I’m about to make a very rash decision when he closes his eyes, his throat constricting on a hard swallow. “The charges have been dropped.”

“What? ”

“Becca,” he says, opening his eyes. “She gave you an alibi for the time of Ledger’s murder, then convinced my officers to call the Port of Providence and get time-stamped video footage of you leaving the docks.

They compared it to the time you arrived on scene, proving there’s no way you could’ve started her office fire.

I had no choice but to drop the charges. ”

“How long ago?”

He shrugs wearily, and I swear to fuck, if my hands weren’t cuffed, I’d clock him. “An hour ago? Maybe an hour and a half.”

“Goddamn it, Reese. An hour could mean the difference between…” I round my lips over my teeth and take a calming breath. “Let me go, now .”

He shakes his head. “There’s protocol I have to follow…discharge paperwork and?—”

“Fuck your protocol!” I roar, my nerves scraped to their last fiber. “Becca doesn’t have time. You have a choice to make, Reese—your daughter or your reputation. You can only save one, so which is it going to be?”

He winces, a sad, haunted look in his eyes I almost feel sorry for. Almost. I’m about to repeat myself when he straightens his shoulders and pins me with a hard, clear stare. “If anything happens to her, there’ll be nothing circumstantial about any of this. I’ll end you.”

“If anything happens to her, you won’t have to.”

I’ll die with her.

Unlocking my handcuffs, he leads me out of the room and through a maze of empty hallways.

I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for the punchline where this is all a trap.

But then, I see a door. Reese doesn’t acknowledge it.

His rigid posture operates on a hairpin trigger as he punches in a code on a side panel.

The moment it clicks, I don’t wait around for a goodbye speech.

My hand is on the metal bar, the heel of my palm pressing the center when he grabs my wrist.

I fucking knew it.

I tense, ready to fight my way out, when I see his other hand drop to his waist. I grit my teeth, but not because I think I’m about to die. Skill to skill, Reese comes up short. I’m simply not looking forward to having to explain to Becca why I put a bullet in her father.

But when he pulls his gun, he doesn’t aim it at me. Tightening his hold on my wrist, he turns my hand palm-side up and places his gun in my hand. “I’ll do my best to keep this quiet as long as I can. You bring my girl home, Marchesi.”

For the first time, George Reese and I have a clear understanding.

He’s giving me his gun because he knows I’ll put a wall of bullets between Becca and my father.

I’ll take it because mine is locked up in an evidence drawer somewhere.

But we both know the real reason behind the exchange.

The moment I’m gone, he’ll concoct some elaborate story about how I stole his weapon and walked him at gunpoint toward freedom.

Then, when a police-issued bullet rips through my father, he’ll get the glory, and I’ll get life in prison.

Yet again, Reese crosses sides and keeps his badge all shiny.

“If you want Becca back, I’ll need more than your ‘best,’ Chief .” Closing my fist around the gun, I turn and walk out the door. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear him call out what sounds like another threat, but I still don’t stop.

Not when I hitch a ride to the hospital.

Not when I break into, then hotwire my car.

Not when I cross the state line.

Putting Becca’s life in danger was enough to lure me back home, but my father made a very tactical error when he made her a pawn.

He dropped the match. Now he’s about to find out what happens when you play with fire.

Montclair, New Jersey

At a little after two a.m., I stand in silence across the street from a seedy New Jersey strip club.

The few people still milling around don’t offer me a second glance.

A stop in Hartford had me ditching the soot-stained dock gear for more appropriate homecoming attire.

Now, I’m drenched in black from the tips of my boots to the sleeves of my leather jacket.

New clothes weren’t my only purchase.

I pull my new burner phone from my pocket and call Owen’s number. Voicemail again. Muttering a low curse, I type out a text with enough lines for him to read between.

From where it all started, then there it shall end.

I never expected to be quoting religious phrases while standing outside a strip club. Then again, nothing about the last few months has made a lot of damn sense. Hitting send, I tuck the phone inside my jacket. I’m pulling the trigger with or without him.

It’s reckless and irrational, but at this point I have nothing left to lose.

Exposing my father’s betrayal to the people who’d care is pointless.

After turning the famiglia into a tabloid headline, any accusation I’d make would be answered with a bullet.

There’s no tomorrow for me, so fuck the rules.

I’m here to send Becca home while causing as much destruction as possible.

Crossing the street, I climb the stairs to the Peek-a-Boo’s main entrance, ignoring the bouncer’s commands for me to stop.

A strong hand grabs my jacket. “Hey, you can’t?—”

I pull my fist back and swing, causing the rest of his command to be lost in a waterfall of blood.

As he hits the floor, three more oversized idiots rush in, only to stop cold once they see my face.

Pushing my way to the back office, I kick the door open.

It doesn’t take long to find the man I’m looking for.

The Deadpan Don is in his usual spot at the poker table, knee-deep in whiskey and pussy. I’m on him in less than four strides.