Page 50 of Married With Malice

“But you will. Because you know he deserves to pay a big price for whatever he did to her.”

She sighs and comes to a halt in front of the iconic public library. “It was years ago. Anni must have been around sixteen at the time. She and Daddy argued a lot in those days. She wanted to get a job. He said no and told her not to mention it again. When she argued, he slapped her across the face.” Sabrina winces and sighs. “Anni finally had her fill of being bullied. She actually slapped him back. Brave, but foolish. He shouted to Rocco to haul her upstairs and lock her in her room. He’d done that before. Rocco’s always been a jerk but this time he was way too rough.”

“What does that mean?”

She swallows hard. “While he was dragging Anni through the house he dislocated her shoulder.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter. A surge of murderous intent is so powerful I can almost feel my hands wrapping around the bastard’s meaty neck and squeezing the light from his eyes.

Sabrina bites her lip and looks down, pained by the memory. “Her arm was so horribly bruised. She also had bruises all over her back, like he’d slammed her into a wall. She wouldn’t talk about it. Mama begged Daddy to get medical help for her. He refused to take Anni to the hospital and he was livid when Mama called a doctor to the house anyway. Daddy paid him off to keep quiet after he fixed Anni’s shoulder. She’s not one to complain but it still hurts her sometimes and will pop slightly out of place if she moves it the wrong way.”

My low opinion of Albie Barone becomes downright subterranean. He handed his daughter off to a monster who brutalized her. Then he left her in agony and permanently damaged her. Worse of all, he has still kept that fucker around his house.

This level of fury is new to me. Under most circumstances, I know how to keep a level head. But there’s more than anger boiling my insides. I’m longing to wrap my arms around Anni and make a vow that I’ll tear the jugular out of anyone who harms her.

I tried to find a way to tell her this two nights ago in the kitchen but didn’t get the message across. She retreated from me anyway. Then she pretended to be asleep when I climbed into bed.

Whether this will solve anything or not, Anni has suffered long enough without justice for what was done to her. This is going to change.

Eventually my prolonged, brooding silence starts to alarm Sabrina.

“Luca, don’t get any big ideas about challenging my father.”

“Not to worry,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

There’s no way I can make a direct move against Albie, not yet. There’s my wife to think about. And Cale and Sadie. Aunt Donna. My cousins. They could all potentially suffer.

On the other hand, Rocco Vincente might be one of Albie’s favorites but he isn’t a made man, meaning he’s not off limits. Consequences are overdue but they’re coming.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say to Sabrina.

The way she raises her chin with stubbornness definitely reminds me of her sister. “Don’t thank me. We didn’t have this conversation.”

“We sure didn’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told you not to worry.”

She nervously plays with her ponytail. “Just try not to get killed, okay? My sister doesn’t deserve to be a widow.”

“I have no plans to take a dirt nap anytime soon.”

“Good to hear.” She nods to the library. “I want some peace and quiet. Do me a favor and throw these out, will you?” She hands over the remains of her pretzel and soda.

“Sure. Is there a driver coming for you later?”

“I’ll call home if I want one.” She grabs her backpack and starts climbing the steps.

At least she understands her own accident-prone nature and holds onto the railing. What she doesn’t notice is the balding creep standing at the bottom and following her with beady eyes. He licks his lips and starts up the steps.

I seize his arm before he gets far. “You don’t need to go to the library today.”

He tries to shake loose. “Who the fuck are you?”

I tighten my grip and take a pointed look up the steps where Sabrina is disappearing through the entrance. Then I look back at him to make my meaning clear. “I’m the guy who knows what’s on your filthy mind and I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Fuck you,” he complains and I finally release him. He stumbles, glances behind him to make sure I’m not chasing, then hurries down the sidewalk.

---