Page 43 of Rescued By the Mafia

thirteen

No Unapproved Friends

Dante had asked her, when they’d been talking the night before, if she had any fears surrounding fire. Iris had thought the question had more to do with his endearing fascination with dragons than anything else. She supposed she probably hadn’t been wrong. She’d simply misunderstood. Just as she’d misunderstood what he meant every time he referred to himself as the Dragon.

She understood now.

Dante De Salvo was a man possessed by the wrath of a mighty dragon.

Iris had been confused, maybe a little uncertain, when one of Dante’s men had retrieved a blowtorch from the shelving unit. The kind of torch she used to see on cooking shows. Those feelings had spiked when Romeo had motioned her to step back and waved his nose clips at her—a wordless sign that the reason for them had arrived. She’d pulled her nose plugs from her pocket as Dante fired up his torch.

And she watched in muted astonishment as her lover proceeded to stalk up to the chained, injured, weakly protesting man, drop a knee on one of Mark’s arms, and lower the torch to Mark’s ear.

Mark’s scream pierced the air, his uninjured leg kicking wildly.

Iris stared, mouth agape despite the filtered-oxygen style plug filling her nostrils, as Dante steadfastly burned Mark’s ear until it was a misshapen, boiling and bloody, useless bump on his head. Then he stepped over Mark’s gasping, crying form and repeated the process on the other ear. By this time Mark didn’t have the strength to reach across himself and fight, let alone the capacity to think to roll away.

Mark had long since stopped screaming by the time Dante finished searing off his ears. Tears flowed from his eyes and his entire body heaved with each breath. “Wh-why—What’s the matter with you?” His voice was choked, strained, and startlingly different.

Dante rested a knee on his chest, seeming to examine the torch for a moment. “You know why.” He glanced over his shoulder toward one of his men. “Restrain him.”

The two who’d gone in ahead moved forward, each positioning themselves to contain a leg and an arm simultaneously.

For a moment, everything was quiet as Mark struggled to breathe, and Dante looked down at him again. “If you believe in reincarnation, then maybe in your next life you won’t choose to be so blind.” Mark only whimpered, visibly trembling, before Dante set to work burning his eyes.

A fresh scream ripped from Mark and his whole body jerked with a renewed surge of adrenaline.

Iris sucked in a breath. There was no denying that what she was witnessing was unpleasant. It was categorical torture. She knew she should feel guilty, because it was her fault these things were happening. She should have felt uncomfortable, at least, if not repulsed or even angered, over the idea of pain being inflicted in her name. But… That was exactly it, wasn’t it?

Not once in her life, for as long as she could remember, had someone stepped up for her. Not once in her life, for as long as she could remember, had someone fought for her. Not. Once.

She didn’t even remember her father’s face, and wouldn’t remember his name if not for the birth certificate her mother had sent her away with when she’d left for college at eighteen. Her mother had confused devoting herself to work with being there for her daughter, and so the two had been estranged since before Iris had left home. Iris had been shy, afraid of disappointment, and always held back in relationships at school. School friends? Sure, she’d made those—and lost them, as soon as the school year ended. Work friends? She’d made those, too—and lost them, too, as soon as she’d lost her job. She’d never found a guy she’d been truly comfortable with, always hearing her mother’s voice in her head cursing her father for running away from his responsibilities.

Then along came Paul. Charming, patient, cute enough, and in the literal profession of protecting the innocent—he should have been a dream. So she overlooked her usual warning signs, desperate for what she’d never had. All his little lectures, couched with gentle words, seemed validated. She fell hook, line, and sinker for his act. Then she hadn’t known how to get out, thinking she couldn’t do it alone and everyone in the county pretty much ate out of his hand. And even Paul, even when he’d been at his best, hadn’t defended her. He’d blamed her, and she’d taken it.

Dante was the first. Dante was so many firsts. He was fighting for her. It didn’t matter that the way he fought was messy. It mattered that he was.

His words from the SUV, moments before they made their way into the warehouse, replayed in her mind. “You, Iris, are my family now.”

This was her world now. She could feel the understanding of that sinking into her bones.

Dante stood and held out his torch. “This one’s done.”

The nearest man released Mark, who’d since passed out, and took the torch as if he were accepting a sacred offering. He and his silent partner moved out of the way, but Iris only noticed as they left her field of vision. She couldn’t look away from Dante.

Dante stepped back from Mark, rolling his neck. “Cut off his fucking head and dispose of the rest of him. Make sure it’s thorough.”

“What’s the plan with his head?” Romeo asked. “You’re not usually one for trophies.”

Dante turned to face them, his eyes burning as if he hadn’t released enough anger yet. “It’s not a trophy. We’re going to hold on to it for when we find the man we really want, so I can watch his motherfucking face when he sees how completely fucked he is.”

Romeo whistled. “You really are pissed.”

“Just get it done.” Dante reached for Iris, but he stopped with his hand half outstretched. His scowl deepened for a moment, and before she could take his hand anyway, he let it fall to his side. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

Iris frowned faintly and nodded. Maybe he didn’t like to be touched so soon after doling out that kind of violence? She followed him, Carlo and Ernesto falling in behind her, finding herself feeling conflicted. She wanted to go to him and reassure him, but she also didn’t want to overwhelm him if he needed a minute.

“Carlo, you’ll drive. We’ll leave your vehicle for the others,” Dante said as they stepped outside.

---