Page 21 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

GIANNI

Montclair, New Jersey

A nton keeps his mouth shut most of the drive back to Montclair, which pisses me off. It gives me too much time to second and third-guess what we just did.

“You could’ve given me a heads-up you had audio of my conversation with Marcello,” I say, breaking the silence.

“It would’ve dulled the impact.” He gazes through the windshield. “They needed to see a genuine reaction.”

“And I needed to not be blindsided, again . If we want to pull this off and survive, we can’t keep ambushing each other, Anton.”

“Noted.”

“So in the spirit of full transparency … I want to see her.”

He inhales deeply before forcing the air through his teeth. “It’s only going to make it harder to send her away.”

I tighten my hold on the steering wheel. “Don’t fucking psychoanalyze me. I can give you a list of former doctors who’ll tell you it doesn’t end well.”

“You want to tell her everything.” It’s more of an accusation than a question, and the longer it goes unanswered, the more his stare burns the side of my face. Eventually, I see him tip his head back in my peripheral vision. “Fuck me…”

The tires squeal as I jerk the wheel to the left, forcing the car into a tight opening it has no business being in. “No, fuck me , Anton. Because if this all goes south, I’m the one who has to die a goddamn liar in her eyes, not you.”

He rakes his fingers through his gray hair.

“Let’s say you come clean, then what? Do you think she wouldn’t want to be a part of it?

” My icy glare prompts a weary sigh. “Look, I know you. You wouldn’t go to all this trouble for a woman who didn’t have some fight in her, which is a good thing outside the lines of our world.

Inside them, it’ll lead her straight into the line of fire.

Justify seeing her all you want, but you’re doing it for selfish reasons that’ll end up hurting her. ”

My head knows he’s right. Unfortunately, it’s not my head that’s steering the bus.

I stare out at the road. “Anton, have you ever lo…?” My teeth snap together, grinding that vile word to dust. “Have you ever liked someone so much you walked away?”

I let the silence hang for a beat. Then two. Then three. At four I glance across the car and catch the distant look on his face. It’s like he’s gazing through the windshield into the past.

“Yes, I have,” he says, stretching the words with an uncharacteristically slow cadence.

“I don’t have a lot of advice about women, but I can tell you sometimes letting go is the ultimate act of …

like, and the most selfless thing a man can do.

It’s an evisceration from the inside out that, if he’s lucky, is over in one shot. ”

“And if he’s not?”

“Then it’s a daily torture.”

Fuck. This is a little too much truth for my liking.

“This is exactly why the good die young,” I mutter, shifting my focus back to the road. “Depravity may earn you a one-way ticket to Hell, but morality gets you disemboweled.”

Anton doesn’t answer. He’s too busy craning his neck at the road sign we just passed. “Gianni, you missed the exit.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Your place is off exit 5B. You can take the next one and loop around, but the third leads to…” Exhaling heavily, he tips his head back and scrubs his hand down his face. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Nope.

He shifts sideways and glares at me. “I’m pretty sure going to Marcello’s is the exact opposite of what you just agreed to do.”

“I didn’t agree to shit. You got philosophical, and I pretended to listen.”

“Gianni—”

I smack my palm against the steering wheel. “I heard you, all right? But if I’m going to be gutted by integrity, I’m touching her one last time.”

He slices his hand through the air. “Out of the question.”

“You seem to be under the impression I was asking for permission, so let me rephrase that. We’re going to the estate. Once we arrive, I’m going to Becca, and you’re going to cut the surveillance feed, then set the existing footage on a constant loop.”

“What about your father?”

“What about him? You have his location on a tighter lockdown than a jealous lover. If he leaves the club, run interference and keep him busy.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

I shrug. “Tell him he’s pretty.”

“I’m serious, Gianni.”

“So am I. Remind him how smart he is and how everything is falling into place … blah, blah, fucking blah.”

Knowing my father, I could screw Becca nine ways ’til Sunday, and he’d still be in the same position, soaking up Anton’s praise like catnip.

He craves adoration and envy, which is why his favorite pastime is climbing up that giant pedestal of his.

Knocking him off of it has always been embarrassingly easy.

“And what about the guard stationed outside her door?” he mutters, slumping into his seat. “Are you going to compliment him until he skips away to doodle your name in his notebook?”

I side-eye him and make the left toward the long, winding driveway of my father’s estate. “Don’t be dramatic. I’m going to break his neck.”

The moment I pull into the underground garage, Anton flings the passenger side door open and disappears inside.

I try to give him time to work, but ten minutes is all I’ve got in me.

Firing off a quick text to Owen, I push our meeting at Louie’s back an hour and make my way toward the basement.

As I reach the base of the stairs, instinct has me reaching for my gun.

The door is unguarded.

Dread drives a hard fist into my chest. Reloading my magazine, I approach slowly.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

I spin around and aim my Glock between my father’s eyes. “What did you do to her?”

The bastard has the nerve to look annoyed. “Where did you get a gun?”

“The gun fairy left it under my pillow. Now answer the fucking question.”

He chuckles. “Humor under pressure. I like that. However, this is the second time you’ve trespassed on my property. I could have you arrested, you know.”

Shifting my aim an inch to the side, I send a bullet flying past his ear into the wall. “I’ll ask one more time. What did you do?”

Instead of being startled by it, he seems proud. “Me? Nothing. But there was an incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

“A most unpleasant one, I’m afraid.” He exhales dramatically. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.”

“What did you do?” I roar, shoving the muzzle against his skull. “Answer me, or I’ll pull this trigger so many times there won’t be much of you left to bury.”

He glances down to where my fist grips his lapel. “Take your hands off me, boy. Maybe then, I’ll tell you what I walked in on before inviting an encore.”

It’s the raw sadism in his tone that has me taking a step back. “You have ten seconds.”

A slow smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “It seems our resident psychiatrist had one of my best guards so wound up he didn’t know whether to put a bullet in her head or his. Unfortunately, she shared a bit of confidential information, forcing me to make that decision for him.”

He leaves the insinuation hanging like a noose. I don’t give a shit. If the guard was dumb enough to confront Marcello, then fuck him. That’s on him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do stupid shit.”

Either the insult flies over his head or he’s too self-absorbed to care. “Antics like hers make things too unpredictable. She already pussy-glamoured you into fucking her instead of breaking her, so I sent Henry in there to rattle her chains a bit.”

My vision blurs, and I see red. “You son of a bitch.”

“I’m afraid he got a little overzealous,” he continues with a wave of his hand. “I’m not sure if fucking her was supposed to punish her or you. Regardless, when he hadn’t returned, I came down here to find his cock in his hand and your whore pinned to the wall.”

“Did he…?” The words shatter like glass in my throat. Blood coats my tongue, the taste igniting a familiar craving. I want more. I need more.

“Defile your precious Becca?” he mocks. “No. I stopped it before he could shove his dick in her.” I let out a volatile breath which feeds his ego.

“But not because I care, Gianni. I denied him because he acted without permission. Your pathetic obsession with this woman means nothing to me. Next time, I may not be so accommodating.”

My vision turns from red to black, and my demons demand blood. But that’d be too easy. I don’t want it to be a single bullet that ends his life. I want pain and torture and the slow burn of the very thing he covets most. “He can’t touch her if he’s dead.”

He chuckles. “I have over fifty men on my payroll who have an appetite for blondes and a complete lack of conscience. So, go ahead. But know every stand you take against me costs your puttana another piece of her soul.”

That final shred of control snaps, and I lunge with a roar, pinning him to the wall with a forearm to his throat and my gun between his eyes. I don’t offer a counter-threat or think beyond the hatred boiling inside me as I start to pull the trigger…

Then freeze as I feel the muzzle of a gun at the back of my head.

“Apparently, Angelo’s sweep of your house wasn’t as thorough as he claimed.”

My molars clamp together so hard, the muscles in my jaw twitch.

Fucking Anton.

My father’s gaze shifts around me. “I’m not surprised. It appears the useless fuck had the IQ of an inbred chimp. I regret killing him so quickly.”

I don’t know whether to thank Anton or shoot him.

It’s the second time in less than twenty-four hours he’s aimed a bullet at my skull.

However, his untimely arrival saved us both.

Any satisfaction from killing Marcello would be over once I realized I’d done exactly what the Authority instructed me not to.

Once word got to Toscano, it’d be lights out for both of us.

Plus, I have to admit, blaming a dead guard for the gun in my hand was some quick thinking. The least I can do is add a few colorful details to the story.

“Maybe he took your ‘sweep’ order a little too literally and pushed a broom around because this Glock was in my fucking nightstand. Christ, this whole family operates like a bunch of broken bumper cars.”

Anton smacks his gun against the back of my head before prying mine from my hand and dropping it in his pocket. “Go,” he orders, swinging the barrel up the stairs. “I’m taking you home.”

Marcello waves his hand. “No need. I don’t believe my son will step over any more lines.” He straightens his suit jacket and winks as he brushes past me. “Will you, boy?”

“Call me ‘boy’ one more fucking time. I dare you.”

Ignoring me, he turns to Anton. “Everything go as planned in Hackensack?”

His second-in-command offers a curt nod. “You headed back to the ’Boo?”

“No. I’m heading to Newark to meet with Sal.”

My hands curl into fists. Unfortunately, my unholy union wasn’t my father’s first attempt at world domination.

A few years ago he set his sights on creating a Garden State monopoly.

Once the window of opportunity opened, he dressed my sister in white and tossed her through it.

Figures he’d waddle off to conspire with my spineless brother-in-law.

I suppose it’d be too much to hope for the entire city to implode in a delightful two-for-one deal.

“Station a new guard down here,” he says to Anton, “and revoke my son’s access.

This is my house, not a fucking bordello.

” He starts up the stairs, only to pause halfway up and stare at me with a predatory smile.

“You could learn a thing or two from your brother-in-law about keeping a woman in line. Your sister used to be as manipulative as your doctor … then Sal broke her, too.”

I step forward, but Anton shakes his head, glaring at me into stilled silence. Once the door closes, I swing around, ready to slam my fist into his skull. “What the hell happened? I thought you had a lock on Marcello’s location?”

“I did. He must’ve been carrying a burner phone and left the trackable one at the club.”

“Saddler touched her,” I say, my voice low and deadly.

The corners of his mouth turn down. “I know.”

“What do you mean, ‘ you know ?’”

His expression hardens. “Feeds are available for seventy-two hours, so I went to the control room to loop the tape like you asked and saw what happened.” He swallows, his face graying faster than a rolling storm cloud.

Murder seeps from every pore in my body. I’m going to kill Henry Saddler. I’m going to cut him into pieces, then put every finger that touched her in a fucking jar at her feet. “Give me my gun.”

I expect an argument. Instead, Anton pulls my Glock from his pocket and places it in my waiting hand. “Gianni…”

“Cut the video and audio feeds and loop the last twenty-four hours as planned,” I clip, tucking my gun in its holster. “Then find Henry Saddler and bring him to the Chop House.”

He arches an eyebrow. “That’s a fired shot.”

“It is. The question is, are you going to be behind the bullet or in front of it?” I ask, using his words from Cucciola’s against him.

Anton is silent for a moment, then gives me a stiff nod. “Give me half an hour.” He starts toward the steps, then stops and glances over his shoulder. “Everything I said before about staying away from her…? Forget it.”

“Already did.” I wait until he’s at the top step with his hand on the doorknob before calling out again. “I suggest not putting any guard at her door you want to see on the other side of this.”

We stare at each other but say nothing. The warning speaks for itself.

Once I’m alone, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Owen again.

Change of plans.

His response is quick and to the point.

Damn it, Gianni, we had a deal.

We had several. None went as planned, so I’m making a new one.

There’s a brief pause and then…

I don’t think this is a good idea.

Bloodlust pulls my lips.

You’ll think otherwise soon.

Pocketing my phone, I pace like a rabid lion. I can’t see her like this. I definitely can’t touch her. That’s the danger in caging a predator… Everything’s quiet while the lock’s engaged. But the moment it’s removed, someone’s jugular is getting ripped out.

Finally, the rage settles to a dull roar, and I turn toward Becca’s door. I thought I was prepared for what I’d see. I was wrong.