Page 36 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

GIANNI

Present Time

T o the normal, everyday citizen, sitting down to a business meeting in the same room where one just committed cold-blooded patricide would seem like psychopathic behavior.

But for those of us born and raised in the cut-throat world of the mafia, it’s just a typical Saturday night.

Pull the trigger enough times and even murder becomes routine and mundane.

Once I rejoin the Authority, Toscano wastes no time.

Within seconds he sections off the other three bosses and remaining Marchesi soldiers into debriefing, clean-up, and damage-control crews.

Once everyone clears out, he closes the door and steps over Marcello’s dead body to claim the seat behind his desk.

I lean my shoulder against the wall and watch with mild disinterest. “Is there a reason you’re in my seat?”

“I’ve always liked you, Gianni.”

“Considering you wanted my head on a stake less than twenty-four hours ago, I think we have extremely different definitions of that word.”

“What I don’t like is being lied to,” he says, lowering his gaze to my father’s rapidly graying body.

“Something the Deadpan Don found out a little too late. The forgiveness of a broken oath in our world is unprecedented. The Authority broke tradition and sacrificed a chance at revenge to remove a liability. Therefore, I suggest not taking this opportunity you’ve been given lightly. ”

“What makes you think I’m taking it lightly?”

“In Staten Island, I asked you what Marcello was holding over your head that was so valuable you’d refrain from shooting him on sight.

You gave me some half-assed excuse of him threatening the ones you loved.

” His stare sharpens as his cadence slows.

“But it was her , wasn’t it? That blonde in the hallway was the leash around your neck. Who is she?”

“An innocent victim who has nothing to do with this.”

Toscano’s fist hits the desk so hard glass rattles. “I’m warning you—I want full transparency, or that olive branch we extended gets snapped in half. Then, it’ll be open season on you, Anton, and your girl.”

Goddamn him for backing me into another corner. There’s no way to avoid this now. Toscano doesn’t toss out idle threats. Not only will he follow through, but he’ll make sure I’m the last to die. At least by answering, I control the narrative.

“She’s a psychiatrist from Providence. I was forced to visit her as part of my ‘Johnny Malone’ persona. One thing led to another and…” I scrub my hand down my face, reining in the urge to take his fucking olive branch and gut him with it. “She’s important to me; isn’t that enough?”

“No.”

We’re dancing in pointless circles. He’s Benito Toscano, capo dei capi of the Five Families. His resources stretch from one coast to the other. He’s going to find out who she is, one way or another. It’s in my best interest for it to come from me.

“Her name is Becca Brennan,” I say reluctantly. “Her father is the Providence police chief, and her mother is the woman Marcello murdered to make him fall in line.”

He sits like a statue, his stony expression giving nothing away. It pisses me off how easily he can pull a reaction from me while my return fire hits like marshmallows on concrete. Finally, he leans forward and clasps his hands on the desk. “This woman knows too much, Gianni. She’s a liability.”

Instinct has me opening my mouth to deny his claim, but I quickly bite down on it. He’s right; she is a liability. One that, in his position, I’d eliminate as well.

It’s then I realize Anton is a lot more cunning than I gave him credit for.

“She doesn’t have to be.”

“Reality and wishes aren’t the same thing, but go on.”

“I could marry her.”

All traces of amusement slip from his face. “I don’t have time for jokes.”

“Good, because I’m deadly serious. The moment Becca says, ‘I do,’ silence is her only option. The feds won’t care that she was kept against her will. Once she’s a Marchesi, the blood spilled here tonight will stain her hands, too.”

“So you want to marry this woman to protect her from retribution.”

“And interrogation. A wife can’t be forced to testify against her husband.”

“That doesn’t mean she’ll invoke that right. The feds can be persuasive.” There’s a slight break in character as a cool smirk tugs one corner of his mouth. “You know that firsthand. ”

Condescending dick.

“I can control Becca.”

At that, he sits back and steeples his fingers. “Even if we were to agree, your proposition has one catastrophic flaw. A boss’s wife must be Italian, which that woman is clearly not. It’s La Cosa Nostra rule.”

I’m tired of swinging from a lower level, so pushing off the wall, I saunter over to the desk and pour myself a drink. “I know. I’m asking the Authority to make an exception.”

“You seem to be doing a lot of that,” he says, watching me lift the glass to my mouth with hawk-like precision. “What makes you think she’d marry you?”

“She won’t have a choice.”

“Outsiders aren’t loyal.”

“She will be.”

Projecting his same unaffected apathy, I drink my whiskey and wait out his silence. But the longer it drags on, the more my shield cracks. Just when I’m about to draw my gun and do something incredibly stupid, Toscano exhales a heavy breath.

“She’d better be, or I’ll see to it she won’t betray anyone ever again. She knows a lot of information, Gianni. That’s the type of loose end we never leave uncut.”

Because she’s an in-road the FBI can manipulate.

Like me.

“All the more reason to marry her and make her an accessory instead of an informant.”

“Your heirs won’t be eligible to lead.”

It’s an un-ironic statement delivered with zero expression…

And it knocks the breath out of me.

I’ve been so focused on getting past point A, that I never considered making it to point B.

If I put a ring on Becca’s finger to protect her from the very organization she’s running from, there’s no path to divorce.

The Authority will keep a close eye on both of us, and eventually, she’ll be expected to give me a son.

Every sharp edge of me tightens at the thought of Becca’s belly swollen with my child.

I clear my throat. “If you have the power to change two rules, you have the power to change three.”

His laugh is low and lethal. “You’re a greedy motherfucker; you know that?”

I flash my teeth. “Aren’t all good bosses?”

Cursing, Toscano grabs the whiskey bottle and fills my father’s abandoned glass to the rim. He downs half the drink before slamming it onto the desk. “My agreement to this has a price.”

I figured as much.

“All right,” I say, gesturing my glass toward him. “Let’s hear it.”

“No. This deal hinges on blind faith, something it’s obvious you lack. If I allow an outsider into the family, it’ll be in exchange for a favor revealed at a later date.”

In any other situation, I’d tell him where he could shove his deal and walk out. No one with half a brain accepts an open-ended debt. But Becca doesn’t have time for negotiations, so I agree to something I know is going to come back and bite me in the ass.

“Fine,” I bite out between clenched teeth. “I accept the terms.”

It’s only then that his haughty exterior bleeds through that icy coating. “Know that we’ll be watching you closely, Gianni. If this new wife of yours so much as breathes in the FBI’s direction, we’ll take matters into our own hands.”

“Understood.”

“Now,” he declares, topping off both our glasses, “we need to discuss your next steps.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I don’t need hand holding, Benny. I think I’ve got this boss thing under control.” I tilt my head to where my father still lays wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “At least more than he did.”

I don’t like the sound of his chuckle. It’s off, like the low rumble of an out-of-tune guitar. “It’s amusing how you assume the road to our forgiveness ends with Marcello’s death. Your father’s demise is merely the first layer in filling the deep hole your family has dug.”

“Sins of the father are visited upon the children,” I murmur, lowering into one of the two chairs opposite him.

“In this case, yes. Marcello’s betrayal and untimely demise left a lot of unanswered questions and even more dangerous connections. Therefore, while Anton rebuilds the Marchesi family, you’re going to raze Providence along with all those who could link these shell corporations back to us.”

“Marcello claimed they’re dead.”

“And you believed him?”

No. Mentioning it was simply a last-ditch effort in buying myself some time.

I should’ve known better. Fighting the inevitable is like trying to catch running water, pointless and a complete waste of time.

I’ve pushed my luck enough. Besides, the chance to get my hands on the man who butchered Becca’s mother is a dangled carrot I can’t resist.

“Unfortunately, ‘needle-in-haystack finder’ isn’t a skill on my criminal4hire.com resume. I spread my arms out wide. “So if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

He swirls the liquid in his glass. “Start with decrypting those last two offshore accounts. Obviously, one of them belongs to Marcello’s bridge to Providence.”

Great. More shit I have absolutely no fucking idea how to do.

But he’s right. That Dagger bastard is the key to everything, as is that damn rose and dagger tattoo.

The fact it keeps showing up on men with connections to both the Italian and Irish mobs is no coincidence.

My father was cocky, not oblivious. He knew it linked Carol Reese’s killer to Dice and Henry, and he used it to his advantage.

It’s why he named one of his shell companies after it.

However, until I have more than a clichéd nickname to go on, I’m keeping it quiet.

I jerk out a curt nod. “I’ll get on it.”

“That’s not all,” he says, and the glacial look in his eyes tells me this is about to get worse. “I want George Reese and Henry Saddler dead by tomorrow.”

I suck in a breath. Fuck. “Taking out Saddler might be a problem.” At his icy stare, I add, “He may be slightly dead already.”

“How is one ‘slightly dead?’”

“Okay, he’s all the way dead,” I say with a shrug. “Just not all in the same place.”

Toscano stares at me for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. “You fucking dismembered a U.S. Marshal?”

“I had my reasons.”

He forces an exhale through his clenched teeth. “Then focus on Reese. We’ll discuss it later.”

Putting up another brick wall won’t do me any favors, but I can’t put a ring on Becca’s finger, then her father in the ground.

“I need a stay of execution on Reese.”

His eye twitches. “Why?”

“Because Becca becomes too much of a wildcard if her father dies. Trust me on this. I don’t need to take him out. Just the threat of it will be enough to keep her in line.”

“Make sure of it, or I’ll make sure neither of them are a problem.”

“Understood.”

“Now, about this,” he says, gesturing around the bloodstained room.

“As far as the Five Families know, it was a case of self-defense, and everyone is going to back it up. Marcello admitted to framing you and kidnapping this Becca girl. He called us all here for a huge spectacle and went out in a blaze of glory, so to speak, since he knew he was going back to jail.”

“I raise an eyebrow. “Does that mean…?”

He sighs. “Yes, Carmine is having the soldiers get rid of the bodies, but Marcello is staying. Light it up if you want, but it has to look accidental,” he says, pointing a finger across the desk.

“Like a dropped cigar or something. We can’t have our new don arrested again.

Cops won’t ignore a Molotov cocktail and five fucking gallons of gasoline. ”

“Won’t the couple dozen bullets in him negate the whole ‘accidental’ angle?”

He chuckles. “You overestimate the number of fucks the FBI gives about inter-mob crime. They won’t care how Marcello died, or by whose hand, as long as they can provide the public with a plausible explanation.

As far as they’re concerned, the world would be a better place if we’d all take each other out. ”

“So, you’re saying they’ll intercept the coroner’s report and make sure it states fire as the official cause of death?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Welcome to life as a boss where the only difference between the government and the mob is a paycheck.”

We discuss more in-depth details over the next half hour. When half the whiskey in the bottle is gone, we’re left with a tepid understanding and an unbalanced truce. Anxious to see Becca, I slide my empty glass across the desk and stand when he drops one last bomb.

“There’s one last stipulation to our deal, Gianni.”

I grit my teeth, knowing a rusted hammer is about to drop.

“The faster your impending nuptials happen, the faster I’m ensured everyone keeps their word.” He sits back, that snake-like smile spreading across his face. “Therefore, I want this girl bound to La Cosa Nostra by tomorrow night.”

I stare at him, reality crashing around me. There’s no way out of this. I’ve set things in motion that can’t be stopped. I know what I have to do…

And she’s not going to like it.