Page 42 of Married to the Mafia

Mikey exhaled and reminded himself for not the first time that he didn’t want to have a cleanup crew trampling all over his property.

“Cristiano,” Brandi said, her voice tight, “could you step back for a moment?”

Cris arched a brow and looked back to Mikey. When Mikey nodded, curious, Cris released his hold on Wesley and took exactly one step backward.

Brandi strode forward simultaneously. She didn’t say a word as her arm went up and a hard slap split the air, her father’s head jerking to the side. Her shoulders shook as she inched back, as if she had forgotten her father was bound and couldn’t retaliate. “I have tried so hard, for so long, to forgive all the terrible things you’ve done to me. All the things you continue to say. Losing Mom really paralyzed me, I guess. Made me realize how easily I could be alone and abandoned in this world, and that always seemed worse. But God-fucking-dammit, I’m done. I hope you rot in Hell.”

Pride swelled in Mikey’s chest even as he noted the way her arms trembled at her sides.

Wesley coughed and made sounds as if to respond to her declaration.

Mikey shot Cris a look and his cousin quickly latched back onto the man’s throat, grabbing tight enough to gag him.

Brandi turned away from the scene, her head down. “I think I’ll go back to the house now.”

“Brandi,” Mikey called, reaching out to catch her shoulder before she could run away.

She raised her eyes to his, tears brimming in her lashes. “It’s not true,” she said, pain straining her voice. “What he said, it’s not—”

Mikey leaned in and covered her lips with his in a short, firm kiss. “I know. Don’t worry about that.” He rubbed his thumb along her jaw, avoiding what remained of her bruise. “Go, and put this out of your mind. I’ll let you know before I head out.”

She nodded, but hesitated. “I … think I might want that appointment you offered.”

It took him a moment to recall what she meant. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get you in this week.” Dr. Laura worked pretty much exclusively for their family anymore, it wouldn’t be hard.

Brandi offered him a flash of a smile before finally slipping from the room.

As the door shut behind her, Mikey locked eyes with the guard who’d stepped up for her previously. “Make sure she gets back to the house safely.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mikey drew a long breath and continued to ignore Wesley’s gurgling until the door opened and shut one more time.

“I believe you had one more question, brother,” Dante said. His voice sounded calm, but Mikey knew better. Dante had a lot of opinions about family and what that was supposed to mean, and he already disliked Wesley Richardson anyway.

Wesley gasped dramatically, indicating Cris had eased his hold. “F-fuck you! What did you do to my—”

“I’m saving her,” Mikey said sharply. “And it turns out, the real threat to Brandi’s safety is you. You might not be the asshole who beat her last week, but you have beaten her, Wesley. She’s been telling me some of the finer details.” He took another step closer and let the anger build in his eyes. “I know what you’ve done. I know about the isolation, the manipulation, the abuse. I know about the fucking back-alley hysterectomy. And you’re going to answer for all of it, today.”

Cris’s eyes widened in a rare show of genuine surprise. “The hell did you just say?”

“Motherfucker,” Dante growled simultaneously.

Wesley’s nostrils flared with a hard breath, his eyes so wide the red veins had become visible around the edges. “She wanted to be a slut. I was just making it easier for her to have her fun. I’m sure you’ve been enjoying all the tricks she’s picked up the past—”

Mikey shot out a foot and kicked Wesley’s shin hard enough to make the man cry out. “I didn’t ask for commentary on that. There isn’t a fucking thing you can say to justify what you did.” He watched Wesley heave against Cris’s grip, his eyes darting around the room, and sighed. “I’m going to have to get this place cleaned up anyway, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Dante replied.

He supposed the inevitability of that was part of the reason he’d opted for easily maintained surfaces. Still, he was going to make a fucking mess. He looked toward the remaining guard. “Find me a tarp and another pair of hands.” As that guard took off to do as he’d been bid, Mikey looked up at Cris. “You have a knife on you?”

“Of course,” Cris said. He let go of Wesley, bent down, and walked up with a wicked dagger Mikey knew full well he’d owned for years resting in his palm. “I’d prefer to get this one back.”

“Wh-what the fuck are you lunatics going to do to me?” Wesley rasped.

Dante moved into Mikey’s peripheral vision as he finished rolling up his sleeves. “Not nearly as much as you deserve, I suspect.”

Mikey gave himself a moment to test the weight of the borrowed dagger before moving into Wesley’s personal space and crouching in front of him. “Second question. Who do you owe money to out in Las Vegas, Wesley?”

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