Page 98 of Her Dark Salvation

Marco

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Matteo. “Yes.”

“Ms. Connelly and Ms. Barone are here.”

Tightness pinched my chest. I’d fucked things up Thursday night but hadn’t had the balls to do anything about it. Now she was at my club?

“And?”

“They seem—” He coughed and cleared his throat. “They seem determined to put a dent in your vodka supply. Thought you’d wanna know.”

Anna drunk at Vesuvio. My teeth clenched. I knew what happened there; it was my club, for Chrissake. Matteo wouldn’t have called unless those two were really tying one on. Which they probably were.Girls’ night, or some such nonsense, caused by yours truly.

“Understood.” I glanced sidelong at Vito in the driver’s seat. We’d just left Terme and were heading west out of the city to a high-stakes poker game. “I’ll be there shortly. Keep an eye.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vito took the next exit. “Where?” he asked.

“Vesuvio. Siobhán and Anna are upstairs.”

“Christ.”

“We’ll only miss a hand or two.”

He gave me withering side-eye.

I shrugged. “I want to see them home safely.”

What a crock of shit. I wanted to see her, period. I should have stayed away. I knew that. But for the first time in my life my willpower wasn’t enough. Somewhere along the line, sometime after I’d met Anna, my need for comfort and partnership had overtaken my need to control and protect. Her accusation had cut, but she wasn’t wrong. And being with her had become as necessary as oxygen. As necessary as blood.

Vito turned the car around and headed east. Streetlights glinted on the drive to the North End amplified by the humidity in the crisp midnight air. My phone vibrated again in my pocket.

I took the phone out and frowned at the screen. “Siobhán?” Silence. “Siobhán? Are you there?” Nothing. My stomach turned over.

Muffled grunts. Shuffling. The unmistakablecrackof a gun.

My heart leapt into my throat. “Something’s wrong. Move!”

Vito slammed on the gas, and the car lurched forward. He blew through a stoplight and took the next corner on a dime. I pressed the phone to my ear, trying to make sense of the muted sounds coming across the open line over the harried rush of blood in my ears.

Another gunshot.

“Cazzo!”

We were almost there, but what if it was too late? Panic tightened my insides.

“Come on!”

More indistinct shouting.

The Range Rover screeched to a halt in front of Vesuvio. I threw open the door.

Siobhán darted across the street. “Anna!” she cried.

Anna stood on the far side of the street staring back into the club.

Siobhán shrieked her name again.

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