Page 11 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

“Marcello.” His name is barely out of my mouth before I’m staring down the barrels of five guns. Reaching under my jacket, I draw Reese’s Glock and aim it between his eyes. “Go ahead. Let’s see which bullet hits who first.”

The stripper who’d been shaking her ass in front of him screams and drops to her knees.

My father doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, the bastard looks amused. “Gianni,” he drawls, returning my greeting with a lift of his drink. “Welcome back.”

“Where is she?”

“Where are your manners?” He cocks his bald head, his cool demeanor a ticking time bomb. “What would your mother think of you showing up without a gift after so many months?”

“Mention my mother again, and it’ll be a bullet to the head.” Holding the gun steady, I pull the soot-stained ace of spades from my back pocket and toss it on the table. “Leaving my calling card at the scene of a fire once was clever. Twice is a lack of imagination.”

“That’s quite an accusation.” He glances down at the card, a smug smile on his lips. “Especially considering that’s not my handwriting.”

“You’re cocky, Marcello, not dumb.” I tip my chin toward the men behind him. “Now, tell your idiots to back off.”

He looks up, his gaze darkening. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve been jerking your dick raw waiting for this and wouldn’t want a stray bullet ruining your fun.”

I can see a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Check him for a wire.”

I issue a warning without moving. “Put your hands on me, and you’ll pull it back without fingers.”

Chuckling, my father takes a leisurely drink. “After our last conversation landed me in prison, can you blame me for exercising caution?”

No. It’s a smart play, and until I know Becca’s location, I have to do the same.

I yank the hem of my T-shirt up with a scowl. “Satisfied? Now, excuse your groupies.”

He lifts a hand in the air. “Andatevene via.”

On his command to “get the hell out,” all five men lower their guns and walk single file out the door along with the stripper.

I watch with disgust, my gaze lingering on Anton Altieri, the last to leave.

My father’s underboss slows his gait as he approaches the threshold, slightly tilting his chin before catching my eye.

Asshole.

Once he closes the door, my father kicks the metal chair beside him. “Have a seat.”

I don’t want to sit. I want to pull the trigger until he’s unrecognizable. But that’s not how things work here. The kamikaze strategy I blew in with only takes me so far. If I want what I came for, I have to think three steps ahead.

I swing the chair around and straddle it, his eyes never leaving my hands as I drape my arms across the top. “I know it’s impressive, but my eyes are up here.”

He meets my stare, finally dropping the act. “ I warned you I’d find you.”

“To be fair, you’re supposed to still be in jail.”

“You think I didn’t have eyes on you when I was in prison?” He rolls his eyes. “You’ve spent the last three months in at least three different crosshairs. You’re lucky I refrained from having one put a bullet in your cervello .”

And he’s lucky I don’t shove my gun in his mouth just to watch the back of his head explode.

“I guess we both fucked up, then.”

Instead of lashing out, he pours another drink. “Even if I hadn’t known your location, it would’ve been only a matter of time.”

I tilt forward, all four legs of the chair hitting the floor. “And why is that?”

“You have a self-destructive streak, Giovanni. After one blonde nearly caused your downfall, I thought you’d quit while you were ahead, but you fell right into another one’s web. Speaking of which, how is dear, sweet Rebecca?”

My hand clenches around the gun. “You tell me.”

He chuckles. “Surely you didn’t count on her father to protect her. We all know how well that worked out for him last time.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. Fuck him for knowing exactly which buttons to push. “Cut the theatrics. You got what you wanted. I’m here.” I spread my arms out wide, my finger still curled around the trigger. “Now, let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

“That puttana is a fucking psychiatrist,” he explodes. “Was she part of your cushy relocation package? Did you have to promise to see a shrink and open your mouth again? What does she know, Gianni?”

“Nothing,” I lie.

He slams his fist onto the table again, poker chips falling onto the floor. “Bullshit! I know Reese had you arrested.”

“Good for you.”

“Damn it, how many times have you sold us out?”

All I offer is a cold, empty stare.

“Gianni!” he demands. “I asked you a question.”

“Becca knows nothing,” I say between clenched teeth.

“As for law enforcement, I’d have an easier time striking a deal with the Devil.

Your mission to destroy Johnny Malone was a smashing success.

My new arson and murder charges dropped my trade-in value to an all-time low. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He sits back in his seat with a smirk. “Payback is an ugly bitch, isn’t she?”

I watch as the mercurial bastard’s mood flips again . Something isn’t adding up. Obviously, he has someone in Providence doing his grunt work. Why not have him finish the job? Why let me cross state lines and risk someone discovering his betrayal?

I meet his glare. “Why am I still alive?”

It’s the opening he’s been waiting for.

“Because keeping you in the family is far more useful than spilling your blood.

Unbelievable.

“While intriguing, I’m going to have to pass.”

Ignoring the gun still pointed at his chest, he stands and walks a slow circle around me, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Is that because you think you have the feds in your back pocket, or should I say a couple of marshals?”

For the first time since forcing my way into his office, my mask slips.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, bracing his hand on the back of my chair.

“I’m a puppet master, Gianni. From the moment one blonde walked into a restaurant until another walked into an office building, it’s always been my hand pulling the strings.

” His focus shifts behind me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Isn’t that right, Henry?”