Page 17 of His Dark Vendetta

His jaw twitched, and his eyes flashed. But a glimmer of uncertainty broke through the rage there, and hope sparked in my chest.

“I moved to Ireland when I was eighteen. I want nothing to do with my family. The only reason I came back was to take care of my parents.” My shoulders and voice shook with emotion. “I didn’t know who Marco was when I started at Terme. I swear, I didn’t know!”

Luca’s chest heaved; his hot, fast breath flared his nostrils.

I clung to his shirt and tugged him closer. “You have to believe me!”

“Nice story, Shamrock,” he ground out. “And I’m supposed to believe you now? When all this time you conveniently left out certain details?” He grabbed me by my throat and lowered his face to mine. “Like the fact you’re a Shaughnessy?” He squeezed. I released his shirt and clawed at his fingers, desperate for air. “That your fucking uncle killed my father?”

Luca’s heated words mingled with the tears searing my cold cheeks. I didn’t want to die, but the only weapon I had was the truth, a dull blade against the steel armor of Luca’s hatred.

“I am so sorry, Luca,” I wheezed from beneath his unrelenting grip, my vision darkening. “I have nothing to do with them. I promise.”

He released my throat. I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, dizzy from the influx of oxygen. He hauled me up onto the ledge behind the chain-link fence, the only barrier between us and the open night. “You know the punishment for being a rat,” he shouted over the rushing wind.

We hadn’t stopped because of the floor mat.

My knees buckled. He held me up with one hand wrapped around my biceps.

“Please! You have to believe me!” My voice and shoulders shook. “I would never betray Marco. He’s more family to me than mine ever was!”

“Lies!” He screamed the word in my face. “All! Lies! You live a life of lies and expect me to believe this horseshit?”

He reached past me and yanked on the metal fence, sliding the section on its track. The locks holding the gate had been cut, and the severed and twisted metal clanked against the chain links. “You’re just trying to save your ass,” he growled.

My heart pounded against my ribs. All sound was drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears. I looked over my shoulder and searched the highway for a passing savior, but the bridge was empty except for a semi. It sped past us and out of view. No other headlights dotted the northbound deck of the Tobin Bridge.

Panic launched me from the ledge back onto the shoulder. I jerked and twisted my arm, trying to break free, but Luca’s grip held fast. He pulled me into him, spun me around, and pressed my back against his front. He wrapped his arms around me, pinning them to my sides, and lifted me off the ground without so much as a grunt despite my squirming and kicking.

He stepped back up onto the ledge, and I stilled. The wind buffeted us from every direction. The dock lights glinted off the choppy water near the shore, but beneath us, there was nothing but a black abyss.

The wind gusted, an icy breath against my wet cheeks. I dug my fingers into Luca’s thighs, desperate for purchase. If he opened his arms and pushed, I’d tumble into oblivion.

Fear consumed the last moments of my life. Fear and grief over the loss of my future to the great unknown. My head fell back and rested against Luca’s shoulder. My eyes fluttered closed. I waited for my end, for the moment he threw me over the edge, and I fell into my watery grave.

ChapterSix

Luca

The wind had bite coming off the water, and at this height, it struck with force. It cooled the fiery rage burning my cheeks and whipped the loose strands of Siobhán’s hair into a frenzied halo. Her pointed fingernails dug into the skin beneath my jeans. She clung to as much of the fabric as she could, pinching it between her bony fingers. She pressed her back into my front, trying to get as far away from the edge as possible, and rested her head on my shoulder.

The gaping maw of the Charles River was pitch compared to the bright lights of the docks. I stared into the void, and a gust of wind delivered the sweet scent of Siobhán’s hair.

I sat on the bench behind the stripper pole at Vesuvio. Siobhán ground her ass into my lap. She leaned back and rested her head on my shoulder. I nosed her neck beneath her ear and drank in her luscious scent.

She shivered. I tightened my grip around her waist.

“Please, Luca,” she whispered. “Please believe me.”

A flicker of reflection off the docks pierced the blackness beneath us, and her pleas, barely audible above the wind, pierced the blackness of my heart. After everything the Shaughnessys had taken from me, after all Siobhán’s lies, part of me wanted to believe her.

I lowered my lips to her ear. “If it wasn’t for your family, I’d still have a father.”

She’s a Shaughnessy, Luca.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been tortured.”

She lied to you. She lied to Marco.

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