Page 3 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

GIANNI

H enry hasn’t spoken a word since the threat of having a bullet rip through his skull caused him to pull a U-turn in the middle of an eight-lane intersection.

Not that I blame him. If a man with nothing left to lose held a gun to my head, I’d shut up, too.

Besides, the closer we get to Becca’s office building, the more volatile I become.

As soon as I saw those firetrucks, I knew they were for Becca. That’s why the moment I see the black curls of smoke rising above the tree lines, I snap.

“Fuck. Fuck !”

Henry winces, the Glock’s muzzle digging deeper into his temple. “Gianni…”

“Shut up.” I don’t want to hear his voice. I need to think. I need to believe she’s not inside that damn building, and that Henry’s warning isn’t coming to fruition .

“He’s targeted one woman to get your attention. Don’t think he won’t play the same card twice.”

But once our caravan turns into the parking lot, reality sends what little hope I have up in flames, along with what’s left of the building.

“Becca!” I leap from the car and run full sprint toward the blaze. The heat is more than a feeling; it’s a taste and a smell. It slithers over my skin and wraps around my neck.

“Hey, you!” a gruff voice calls out, a stampede of frantic footfalls joining the chase. “Stop!”

But I don’t. I can’t. The only thing on my mind is getting to her, so I let out an inhuman roar as three Providence firefighters tackle me from behind. I try to throw punches while holding onto my gun when a hand clamps around my wrist.

“He’s armed!” one of them shouts, and then my weapon is ripped from my hand.

“Becca Brennan,” I bite out as multiple knees hit my spine. “She works in this building.”

“There’s no one inside the premises, sir.”

“Check again. She always works late.” I lift my head and stare at the familiar Audi A5 tucked away in a far shaded corner of the parking lot. “That’s her car over there.”

“Shit.” The tallest of the three clamors to his feet and instructs the others to keep me down before sprinting toward the fire.

“Return with her,” I say icily in his wake, “or don’t return at all.”

He doesn’t turn around, but judging by his sudden stumble, he heard me.

Eventually, Henry makes his way over from the sidelines where he’s been watching everything unfold.

“Gentlemen,” he says, digging in his pocket as he advances.

He doesn’t meet my eyes, which is a smart move.

Once I’m free, there’s a high probability I’ll rip his lungs out through his nose.

He produces a black leather rectangle and flips it open, revealing a badge and ID.

“Henry Saddler, United States Marshal.” As the two remaining firefighters inspect his credentials, he nods to where I’m glaring up at him from the asphalt.

“This man is under federal protection, so I’d suggest getting off him. ”

Saddler? Great. Apparently, he has an alias, too.

I wait for retaliation, but to my surprise, the weight on my back lessens.

In half a heartbeat, I’m on my feet, gun in hand, ready to rain hell when a second blast sends black smoke billowing into the air.

I turn to find the heart of the building gone.

I don’t think about the consequences as I start toward it. “Becca!”

Fuck this. I’m not burying her, too.

Everything around me becomes a blur. Within seconds I’m enveloped by smoke, and in a sick twist of irony, battling inside the belly of my chosen beast. There’s a sharp crack of wood before a support beam snaps in half and crashes inches in front of me.

I glance up, my heart plummeting to my feet.

Shit. The whole ceiling is an inferno ready to cave in at any moment.

I have less than thirty seconds to find her and get out, or we’re both dead.

By the time I reach the second floor, the smoke is so dense I’m operating on pure memory. My eyes burn, my vision registering nothing but blurred, distorted shapes.

“Becca?” Silence. A flame ignites in my chest rivaling the one at my back. It’s a familiar burn I shove behind a thick wall of rage. I understand fury. I know how to appease it. But fear is an unfamiliar feeling. “Becca, answer me, damn it!”

Silence.

Leaning over, I brace my hands on my knees and cough. The more oxygen I drag in, the more my lungs revolt. My head turns to static, and I stumble.

That’s when I see her.

She’s facing away from me, curled up on her side like a discarded doll.

I can’t tell if she’s breathing, and there’s no time to check.

Scooping her limp body into my arms, I stumble back out the way I came.

“You can’t die on me, Doc. Hate me for the rest of your life, but don’t you dare fucking make me bury you … please .”

I’ve never uttered the word please in my life, but it’s the only thing on my lips as I stumble through the front door and hit my knees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see paramedics rush toward me.

But I strengthen my grip and draw Becca tighter against my chest. Somewhere in the haze, I register Henry calling my name, but I don’t respond.

Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

“Let the paramedics do their job.” Crouching in front of me, he catches my eye. “ Johnny , let them help her.”

Hearing my alias snaps me back into reality.

He’s right. A media spectacle is the last thing she needs, so I force myself to loosen my hold.

I grit my teeth as the paramedics swoop in with an oxygen mask and an IV, then wheel her toward a waiting ambulance while the rest of the fire department fights a losing battle.

I’m following their trail of organized chaos when Henry steps in front of me.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I meet his stare. “With her.”

“The hell you are. Don’t you think you’ve called enough attention to yourself?”

I clench my fists. “Get out of my way, Saddler .”

“Sir, I need you to clear the way.”

Henry and I both turn to find the firefighter who tackled me wearing an expression filled with way more irritation than he’s prepared to enforce.

For a moment, I consider shooting him. I’ve been itching to fire a bullet since Henry hijacked the wheel.

Unfortunately, I can’t protect Becca if I’m locked up for slaughtering local heroes.

“She needs me,” I snap.

“She needs medical attention,” he counters with a burst of bravado that even has Henry sucking in a breath. “Something she can’t get if you don’t move and let them do their job.”

Any other day, I might respect the balls on this guy. Today is not that day.

“I’m going with her, and you’re wasting time. If she dies because of it, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

His eyes widen, and he nods.

That’s what I thought.

With that settled, I grip the open door of the ambulance and am about to get inside when Henry stops me again. Something akin to thunder rumbles in my head as I shove him off me. “Hands don’t reattach easily, Saddler. Put yours on me again, and you’ll find out.”

He lowers his arm with an audible swallow. “How did you know the firetrucks were headed to Dr. Brennan’s office?”

“Not now.”

“Gianni, I’m serious. I can’t overlook this.”

I turn my back to him and climb inside. “Then don’t.” I feel Henry’s eyes on me as I brush Becca’s hair from her cheek.

Seconds later, the remaining paramedics close the ambulance and rush us toward the hospital. As I stare at Becca’s beautiful soot-streaked face, I feel the tide? turn, the life she breathed into me slowly fading.

It’s time to put Johnny Malone on ice. The man who allowed desire to divulge secrets and lust to bridge trust, re-hardens into the cold, calculating monster he’s always been.

The one he was born to be.

The hospital is crawling with badges and agendas.

Men who’d love nothing more than to shove me behind steel bars and throw away the key.

If I had half a brain, I’d get as far away from Providence as humanly possible.

Then again, my common sense went AWOL the moment Becca chucked a half-eaten apple at my head.

It’s the only explanation I have for pacing the halls outside her room, trying to figure out a way to con my way inside.

I notice I’m getting more than a few lingering stares, so I pause a few doors down from Becca’s room and pretend to scroll through texts. Eventually, the herd thickens enough for me to slip through it without being noticed. The moment I’m inside, I freeze.

The blonde hair she always kept in a smart low ponytail is strewn across her white pillow like seaweed.

My stomach turns at the tubes and wires crisscrossing over the dark bruises on her pale face.

Closing the door behind me, I sink into the chair by her bed and take her hand.

This may be my last chance to touch her. I won’t let it slip away.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess, Doc. I know my promises mean nothing to you now, but I swear I’ll make the man who did this to you pay with his life.” I brush the back of my other hand across her cheek. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Henry.

I grit my teeth. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You left me under an avalanche of shit. I had enough on my plate fielding questions from the fire department and EMTs, but then the police showed up. I’m a marshal, Gianni. I didn’t sign up for this.”

I guess we’re doing this now.

Carefully placing Becca’s hand by her side, I turn to find a splotchy flush working its way up Henry’s neck as he paces.

“I tried to do as much damage control as possible,” he continues. The more he paces, the harder he breathes. If the idiot doesn’t bring it down a few notches, he’s going to have a stroke.

I stand and cross my arms. “This is where you piss me off, isn’t it?”

He pauses mid-stride and flings his arms out wide. “You waved a gun in their faces, Gianni. I had no choice but to come clean.” His cheeks flame as he closes the distance between us. “What was I supposed to do?”