Page 42 of Dark Truths

“Well, well, well. There she is.”

“Dad, stop this. Please,” Rose begs.

“Oh, not before story time,” Patrick answers. “You see, when I heard from a little birdy that my missing daughter was seen shopping with none other than Gabriella DiAngelo and the DiAngelo mutt, you can imagine my surprise because I hadsold you. You were no longer my problem. So I did a little digging. Turns out you’re the girl Michael’s been looking for since January. Did the math and sure shit your little bastard son is Michael DiAngelo’s. Seems you finally did something fucking right for once.”

Jesus. The man can fucking talk. I shrug my jacket off, being careful to keep my phone in the pocket and shove it down on Enzo’s wound.

“What do you want?” Rose asks.

“Well, Igor paid a lot of money for you, and I am a man of my word.”

The tension is coming off Rose in waves that even I feel. I place my hand over hers and squeeze, letting her know she has my support.

Patrick waves to one of his men. “Go find the baby.”

Rose flinches, like she wants to run after the man but knows better than to move.

Patrick peers back down at his daughter. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up and changed.”

“For what?” Rose snaps.

“Why your wedding to Igor, of course.”

“I will not marry him.” Her voice shakes with anger and determination, but not fear.

The man returns, carrying a sleeping Liam. He hands him off to Patrick, who smiles down at his grandson like he’s suddenly a prize and not the bastard he originally declared him. “Let me put it this way, Rosaleen.” He looks back at his daughter, a challenge in his dark gaze. “If you do not marry Igor, I will have your friends killed and you will never see your son again.”

18

Dimitri

I’ve done my fair share of dangerous things in my life. I’ve stared down the barrel of a gun and been shot more times than I can count. I’ve been stabbed, electrocuted, and burned. Everything meant to break a human spirit, I have endured and survived. But hearing Gabriella scream nearly killed me. And if she dies, I’m confident I’ll be going with her.

Slipping past my men is easy when you know their schedule and where they’re posted in the club. It’s only in the parking garage connected to thePlaygroundwhere I catch the curious gazes of the men, but they say nothing as I walk confidently towards my Ducati bike.

With a thunderous roar, the machine beneath me springs to life and idles in a deep purr as I slip my helmet on, more for disguise than safety. I rev the throttle and feel the immediate response of the machine, before I release the brake and speed through the parking garage. Cars honk and swerve to avoidhitting me when I explode onto the street, but I don’t pay them any attention. My entire mind is focused on one thing.

Getting to Gabriella.

I’ve only been to the DiAngelo tower once. The Italians hosted a ridiculously extravagant grand opening event a couple of months back. As Sergei’s second, I was expected to attend, but the entire affair left me feeling anxious for two reasons: being surrounded by dozens of crime family members and the expectation that I would see Gabriella. I looked for her all night and waited, but she never appeared. Apparently, there was a school function she couldn't miss. I wondered how much of that was really true or if she just didn’t want to see me.

Outside the tower is a pair of cars I recognize belong to the Irish. The call dropped on the ride over, but I heard enough to know that Enzo was shot and Patrick’s missing daughter Rose was taken with her infant son. How the girl and her child are connected to Michael DiAngelo remains a mystery to me, but right now, my priority is getting to Gabriella.

Patrick left some guards behind to keep an eye on Gabriella and Enzo, using them as leverage to force his daughter to marry Igor. But dealing with that fat bastard and the fallback from this royal fuck up is a problem for another day.

An Irish guard approaches right away when I park my bike behind the cars. “Hey buddy, you need to move your bike—”

He really should have raised his gun to me because I have mine out and aimed at him, sending a bullet through his head before he can finish his sentence.

The others hear the shot, and I quickly send each of them to wait for me in hell before moving past their dead bodies to the front door. The Italian guards inside are dead, no doubt courtesy of the O’Leary’s. One glance at the elevator panel and I know I’ll need a key card to override the security. Thankfully, I find one on a guard’s body and enter the elevator. From what Iremember, Michael lives in the top penthouse of the tower. I can only hope that my memory is correct as I press the P1 button and swipe the card when prompted.

I have only enough time to swap clips out and raise my guns before the elevator dings and the doors open to a foyer and a pair of waiting Irish guards.

“What the fuck?” one man snaps.

I can imagine my appearance is as surprising as it is confusing since I’m still wearing my helmet. The last thing they probably expected to appear when those doors opened.

“Who the hell are you?” the other asks next.

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