Page 35 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

GIANNI

Fifteen Minutes Ago

L owering my gun, I stare at the three dead soldiers lying on the floor in rapidly spreading pools of blood. “Was that fucking necessary?”

“Yes.” Toscano barely gives them a passing glance before nodding to the Philly boss, who immediately begins herding the remaining stunned men downstairs. “They may have kneeled for you, Gianni, but it was only to pull guns from their ankle holsters.”

My gaze slides down to where— fuck me —three guns lay discarded a few inches away from their lifeless hands. Every muscle in my body stiffens as his low, patronizing laugh rings in my ears.

“As I told you earlier, your impulsiveness is your greatest weakness. You claim Marcello’s hubris was the catalyst to his downfall, but yours will be, too, if you don’t watch it.” He gestures to my father’s dead loyalists. “You were so caught up in your ‘gotcha’ moment you failed to see theirs.”

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. I didn’t miss those men because of my ego. I missed them because of her . The moment I heard Becca scream my name, everything came to a standstill. I couldn’t do anything but stare as my biggest fear played out in front of my eyes.

Now that the Authority has seen her, we’re both fucked.

Keeping a death grip on my gun, I meet his stare.

“ Grazie .” I circle the carnage to follow Anton and Becca, when he steps in front of me, blocking my path.

I tip my head back with a low curse. “You know, this micromanaging thing is getting a little old. I had Anton call you tonight as a courtesy, not an invitation.”

That same unhinged smile spreads across his face.

“Then, perhaps you should ask your underboss why he extended one.” My chin snaps down in surprise, a reaction that fuels his gloat.

However, in true capo dei capi fashion, the exalted superiority carved in his face quickly melts into a mask of rage.

“But first, you and I need to discuss something.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you in an hour.”

He counters my attempt to go around him. “No, now , Gianni, and you know why.”

Fuck.

There’s no getting around this. All I can do is drag it out, giving Anton time to get Becca to Owen, and for him to get her the hell away from the estate.

I gesture toward the empty bedroom across the hall when the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps diverts my attention to the stairs.

Toscano and I both lift our guns just as Anton’s flushed face appears.

Immediately, his hands go up, his eyes widening as they swing from one gun to the other. “I, uh…” His gaze settles on Toscano. “I need to speak with Gianni for a moment. It’s important.”

I expect the Authority king to either laugh in his face or shoot it off, but once again, he surprises me by tucking his gun into his holster. “You have two minutes. Make them count.” Turning, he purposely strides through all three puddles of blood before disappearing into Marcello’s office.

Anton and I stand in silence for a few beats before Toscano’s time crunch grabs me by the throat, and anger takes over. “Do you enjoy making my life hell, or is sabotaging me just an uncontrollable compulsion?”

To his credit, he holds my glare and doesn’t back down. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize for giving Toscano details and times, you’re wasting your breath. I’m not sorry. In fact, I’d do it all over again.”

“Choose your next words carefully, Anton.”

He steps closer. “Or what ? You’re going to shoot me right here in front of men who just watched you murder the only boss they’ve ever known?

” Another bold step brings us face-to-face.

“You’re going to kill me for protecting you from yourself and four men who could take you out for reasons I don’t have enough fingers to list? ”

“I’m the boss of this family now.”

The words bounce off him. “Yes, but you’re not invincible.

You may be the heir to the throne, Gianni, but I’ve stood beside it for thirty years.

I know more. I’ve seen more.” He swings a clenched fist to his chest. “I’ve lost more.

So, yeah, when I think you’re wrong—when I think your stubborn Marchesi pride is going to get you killed—I’m going to defy you every time.

So, if you’ve got a problem with that”—he glances down at the gun in my hand before meeting my eyes—“you pull that trigger right now.”

I’m not going to shoot him, and not because his perfectly executed “put up or shut up” challenge imploded my whole argument.

That’s the third time he’s mentioned loss.

Something tells me there’s more to it than the typical bullets and blood that define a made man’s life.

There’s a raw truth buried in the sea of pain he keeps hidden behind that steeled gaze.

Water that’s too familiar to the one I’m drowning in.

I’ll put a pin in it for now, but if we make it out of this alive, all bets are off.

I holster my gun and drag my hand through my hair. “How the hell did she get up here?”

“When Toscano and the others arrived, I had to unlock the door to the second level.”

I drag my palm across my forehead. “And you didn’t lock it back?”

Because that was the whole plan, or so I thought. Section off the house, leaving Becca with one way out and my father with none. Once I got the final signal from Owen, I was going to turn the whole fucking estate into a multi-million-dollar inferno.

Marcello may be dead, but everything else has turned inside out and ass-end up.

Anton scowls. “No, Gianni, I didn’t lock it back. I was too busy being distracted by the sound of fucking gunfire.”

“Where is she now?”

“Owen is taking her to the car.” He shifts his stare, drawing my focus back into the hallway. “We have less than thirty seconds. What do we do?”

“Get her the fuck out of Jersey.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“I don’t care. You need to think this through.

Not only has she seen the face of every major player in the game, but she has intimate knowledge of Marcello’s badge-buying Rogue fiasco.

That alone gives Toscano enough motivation to kill her, but once the feds get wind of this and offer protection for intel, it’ll be a done deal.

” He flicks his wrist as if he’s rattling off stock options. “It’s La Cosa Nostra code.”

“Fuck the code.” A chest-beating, gut reaction that only stirs the pile of shit we’re in rather than fixes it.

According to Anton’s low, exasperated breath, he agrees. “Then the only way to circumvent the laws and the code is to play both to your advantage.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re the boss now, right?”

“So?”

“So the same rule that prevents a boss from being taken out without permission also extends to his immediate family.”

“Who I just fired six bullets into, so unless…” I stare at him, the insinuation tucked between his words seeping through the cracks. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

His gaze sharpens. Apparently, he’s very fucking serious.

“The wives of made men are just as untouchable as their husbands. You marry Dr. Brennan, and the Authority can’t do shit to her without a majority vote, which as the new boss of New Jersey, you’re a part of.

A ring on her finger not only gives her immunity on the stand, but it’s her only line of defense against the Five Families. ”

“Becca’s not Italian.” When he gives me a blank stare, I grit my teeth. “The code also states a boss’s wife must have roots in the Old Country. With names like Reese and Brennan, I can make a confident assumption Becca’s ancestors aren’t Italian.”

“Then change the rules.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Same as before, argue your case.”

Once again, Becca’s fate rests in my hands.

My jacket feels like a lead blanket. Shrugging it off, I tug at my collar, then slam both palms onto a glass side table. “A majority vote was a longshot when we were pushing for one exception.” I snap a sharp look over my shoulder. “Lobbying for two is suicide. ”

“Do we have another option?” he challenges. “I’ll be honest, Gianni, my priority is protecting your ass, not hers.” I don’t get even a syllable out before he raises his hand. “ However, I know if I don’t keep that doctor safe, you’ll keep putting ‘said ass’ on the line.”

I glare at him. While I’m impressed by his pivot, I don’t appreciate being silenced. “What did I say about putting your hand in my face?”

He quickly lowers it, then stuffs it in his pocket. “I get it. You didn’t want her stained by this life. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. Now that she’s shown her face, you either bring her in or let her die.”

And that’s the fucking pile of quicksand we’re all in. The one I did everything to prevent Becca from falling into. But here we are, waist-deep in it, and the more we struggle the faster we sink.

Still, the idea of being married to Becca is tempting. Too tempting. Somewhere beneath all my scars, there’s a twinge of guilt. Forcing Becca into marriage is the same thing Marcello tried to do to me, only worse. At least he never tried to pretend it was for my benefit.

My jaw clenches.

Mirror the footsteps, mirror the man.

While I’m angry at fate, my guilt at trapping her in this life isn’t enough to risk hers.

“Take her to my house,” I say, the icy command sounding like it’s coming from someone else. “You know the code.” I don’t wait for a response. Turning my back to him, I make my way toward my father’s office.