Page 32 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

GIANNI

I stare out the second-floor window, watching the stars bleed across the sky and imagining the smoke hovering above Hackensack as sirens rush to the scene.

They’ll be too late. The real fire has already moved west.

Sliding my phone from my pocket, I type two words and hit send.

It’s time.

There’s no need for dramatic speeches or steeled threats. Either Owen lives up to his word or he doesn’t. Regardless, the less detail he knows the better. Once the dust settles, plausible deniability will be worth its weight in gold.

A shadow moves in behind me seconds before Anton’s familiar reflection appears in the window. “He’s on his way.”

I slide my phone back into my pocket with a nod. “ Do we have an ETA?”

Another step and he’s at my side. His hands disappear into his pockets as he stares out the window. “Twenty minutes, a half hour at the most.”

I glance at my phone.

11:21 p.m.

I hate this. I’m used to performing a one-man show, not directing a fucking ensemble cast. The fact this whole thing hinges on everyone being in the right place at the right time has me on edge. Even one delayed second could mean the difference between winning and dying.

“And the SUV?”

“Gone.” His tone is somber, not in reflection of the act, but of what it means. Life as Paulie knows it is now over. His blood will spill, the prayer card will burn, and his soul will belong to La Cosa Nostra .

“That’s why he’s rushing back.” Pulling a worn playing card from the inside pocket of my jacket, I flip it between each finger. “His charbroiled insurance policy made the eleven o’clock news, so his ego needs to hammer out the new dent in his crown.”

I catch Anton’s frown out of the corner of my eye and know my night is about to get a lot more complicated. “Gianni, I hate to keep beating a dead horse…”

“Not enough to give it rest,” I mutter.

His eyes snap to mine. “The more you risk seeing her, the less chance this has of actually working. Anyone could’ve seen you. Hell, the guard?—”

“Got his neck snapped hours ago.” At his cocked eyebrow, I narrow my gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s lucky I didn’t choke him with his own intestines.”

The only thing that held my demons at bay was her .

Touching her. Smelling her. Feeling her.

Was it risky? Hell yeah. Would it have been more merciful to let my absence feed the narrative already created?

Of course. But as I told Becca in one of our first appointments, I’m nobody’s hero.

I’m the selfish man who refuses to be the villain in her story.

“Dead guards are liabilities, Gianni, not marks on a scoreboard.”

“Say you .”

“It doesn’t make it any easier, you know,” he says, shifting his focus back to the window with a defeated sigh. “False hope is a slow death.”

Ignoring him, I fold my arms and widen my stance. Fuck him for throwing salt in a bleeding wound. Guilt is a weight I can’t carry right now. Especially when I’m so close to pulling the trigger.

Eventually, he exhales a resigned breath, a deep cavern tucked between his eyebrows. “Be damn sure about this, Gianni. Once this pin is pulled, there’s no putting it back in.”

“I’ve been sure about this for twenty-two years.” I side-eye him. “What about you ?”

His answer lies in his silence. We both know what’s about to go down and the consequences that’ll follow. Both of us have blood on our hands, but tonight will drive that stain to the bone.

“Everything in place and ready to go?” he asks.

“Isn’t it always?” Catching the card between my fingers, I flip it and flash the ace of spades, a slow smirk tugging at my lips. “After all, I am Torch.”

We stand there, soaking in the final moments of peace, our minds heavy with “what-ifs” when a pair of headlights rush through the iron gates leading to the estate.

“Our guest of honor is early,” Anton mutters. “Now what?”

“We get in position and wait.” I tuck the card back into my jacket. “ Don’t fuck up.”

There’s no margin for error. One mistake brings our house of cards crashing down.

He gives me a final nod. “Don’t die.”

We both know that’s a promise I can’t make. Saying nothing, I leave him standing by the window when my phone vibrates, Owen’s response flashing across the screen.

What blood binds only death breaks.

The lit match I’ve waited for.

I close the office door behind me. As expected, a small desk light flickers on, and in the center of the shadows sits the root of all evil, smoking a cigar, a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him along with two glasses.

Instead of heading toward the chairs in front of his desk, I stroll toward the window and lean against the frame. “You’re back early. Meeting not go as planned?”

“It seems two of my best men met with an unfortunate end tonight in Hackensack.” My father puffs the cigar while kicking his feet up on his desk.

“Is that right?”

Trapping the cigar between his fingers, he motions it toward me. “Someone attached C4 to their SUV and blew them straight to Hell. Amazingly, the restaurant you and Anton visited remains unscathed.”

I stare at him, a satisfied smile on my lips.

“I admit, attempting to frame me for another fire was creative, especially since the owner is Victoria’s uncle.

” I silently count to five so I won’t pull my gun and shoot him in the face.

“Nice touch sending me on a run to ensure my face was on camera footage.”

“Your psychiatrist isn’t the only one intrigued by the human mind.

Our professions aren’t that different.” He widens his arms in an elaborate gesture.

“Both treat people like rats in a maze. While she leads hers to the exit, I let mine slam into the same wall before sealing it off and watching them die. Which maze do you think you ended up in?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

He gives me a bored look. “If you’re alluding to the untimely demise of my duplicitous informant, you can save your breath. I’m well aware Henry is probably a pile of gelatinous sludge by now.”

I’m sure he is. The fucking puppet master knew exactly which strings to pull to make me dance. But I want to see where this is going to go. “What would give you that idea?”

“Who do you think gave him a key to Dr. Brennan’s room?” His smirk chips a dent in my stoic mask. “History may not repeat itself, but it always rhymes. You have a sick obsession with being every woman’s knight in bloodstained armor, Gianni. It’s embarrassing how easily pussy controls your brain.”

I clench my fist, maintaining restraint in knowing that Teflon ego is about to shatter.

“I knew what I was doing by taking Saddler out. He was a loose end you needed to cut. Who better to provoke into doing it than the unhinged mafia heir who pulled a gun on him in front of half a dozen Providence firefighters, am I right?”

“You were always your own worst enemy.” Clenching his teeth around his Cuban, he fills both glasses to the rim, then pushes one across the wood. “Here, have a drink.”

“I’ll pass. I have rules against ingesting poison.”

He lifts his glass with one hand, pulling his cigar from between his lips with the other. “If I had any interest in killing you myself, five bullets would’ve ripped through your skull upon arrival at my club.”

The asshole is so fucking arrogant he doesn’t even notice he revealed his whole plan.

“All this for revenge.”

“Not just revenge. This is about tying up loose ends. Unlike you, I think ahead.”

That’s where you’re wrong.

“You’ll have to forgive me for not sharing this love of vague bullshit you and your late protégé seem to have.”

He chuckles. “Let’s just say nothing you do can counteract the storm coming your way. Strike a match and blow my entire entourage to Hell. I don’t care. It’ll only strengthen my case and damn yours more.”

I arch an eyebrow and fold my arms across my chest. “I think you’re becoming obsessed with me, Marcello.

” An unnecessary dig, but I’ll take every opportunity to take a swing at his ego.

“However, I’m intrigued by this so-called storm.

Considering you’ve been dragging your feet since lining up backup plans for your backup plans, it must not be too powerful. ”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“Nothing makes me confident, Gianni. I simply am ,” he says, eating up every ounce of attention as he tilts his glass toward me. “Something you could learn a thing or two about.”

The only one about to learn a thing or two is you, asshole.

Holding his icy stare, I cross the floor, my hands vibrating with restrained energy.

“I’ll admit, as convoluted and full of tripwires as your plan was, it was rather ingenious.

At every dead end, there was a trigger hammer ready to snap my neck.

” The corners of my mouth tighten. “But you set the biggest trap when you put all three shell companies in my name. With all the recent deaths and chaos in Providence, you knew I’d have no defense.

After all,” I say, gesturing my palm toward him, “you were in jail.”

Sinking his teeth into the cigar, he sets the glass down and gives me a slow clap. “I’ve underestimated you.”

“A mistake I thought you’d learned not to repeat.” I can tell by the way his eyelid twitches I’ve hit a nerve. “So you finally admit it?”

“The only way to stay at the top in this business is to admit nothing and take credit for everything. However, I will say you’ve impressed me.”

“I didn’t come here to be insulted.” Scowling, I redirect the conversation.

“However, I have to ask… Why bother with the theatrics? Keeping Becca locked in your basement was more than enough to keep me walking your crooked line. The whole truce thing seems like a pointless side plot loaded with a lot of unnecessary risk.”