Page 5 of Tortured Hearts
“Fuck it.” Grabbing both spare magazines, I shove one in each pocket. “Better to be over-prepared than underground.”
The thought lingers as I shove the gun into the waistband of my pants and cover it with my shirt. Swinging my work boots onto the asphalt, I exit the car just as I hear gravel crunching behind me. I spin around to find Henry bent over with his hands on his thighs, his pale face flushed withexertion.
Like me, he’s dressed in his work clothes, the dimming May sun having turned his button-down shirt into a second skin. He’s dry heaving like he’s been waterboarded, rather than put in a normal day’s work. I have no clue how the idiot has driven a forklift for twelve weeks without impaling himself.
“You look like shit.”
He glances up, his eyebrows drawing together. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Home.” Holding his stare, I drive my heel behind me and mule-kick the door shut. “Would you like to follow me, or is thereanotherGPS tracker on my car I need to dismantle?”
He cuts me a soured glare. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
“Give me one reason I should.”
Rising to his feet, he shoves his fingers into his brick-toned hair and tugs at the roots. “Because Owen texted me, you stubborn asshole. He got tied up closing down the office, so he asked me to get you out of here.”
“Sure he did.”
Clenching his teeth, he pulls his phone from his pocket and shoves it in my face. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and trust me, the feeling is mutual, but will you let me do my damn job for once?”
I narrow my eyes at the text on the screen.
Ran into some trouble. Get J out of Providence now. I’ll explain later.
He’s right. Idon’tlike him, never have. Owen may get on my nerves, but he’s earned my respect. When he speaks, I listen before disregarding everything he says. Henry, however, I’ve always ignored like the redheaded step-fuck he is.
“So he had time to text you a new plan,but he couldn’t spare ten seconds to clue me in?”
“I’m not happy about being stuck with you either, Malone.”
“Marchesi,” I counter darkly.Fuck Johnny Malone.I’m done hiding behind a plastic persona.
He yanks his hand from his hair and clenches it by his side. “Will you keep your voice down?”
“Why?” I slide my phone from my pocket with a low laugh. “Who’s going to hear me … the Rogue?”Because they don’t fucking exist.This has all been a heavily veiled chess match with a brilliantly plotted endgame. My father has forced my hand by backing me into a corner. Any move I make will cost me something …or someone.
Henry cuts the distance between us in half, his gaze locked on the phone in my hand. “Still, I’d rather not tempt fate if it’s all the same to…” The splotchy red stain on his cheeks deepens as I punch out a familiar number. “Who the hell are you calling?”
I flash him an icy smirk. “My probation officer.”
“You’re wasting time. I already told you Owen’s tied up at the office.”
I’ve been told a lot of things since arriving in Providence. Failing to verify each and every detail is the reason I’m standing in a dockside parking lot with a wolf at my door.
I drag the phone to my ear, keeping my expression blank as it kicks me into voicemail.Damn it, Owen.Frustrated, I disconnect the call, Henry’s thin lips curling into a smile I want to punch off his face.
“Satisfied?” he says, motioning to the white-knuckled grip I have on my phone. “Or would you like to give Marcello evenmoretime to plan your demise?”
This guy’s riding a thin line with me. Luckily for him, his comment swerves my anger toward a much darker path. “So it’s true? Not a single chargestuck?”
“Not even a parking ticket. Look, Owen sent me the link, too,” he says, casting me a hesitant look. “Seeing that damning evidence between Marcello and Reese blindsided the hell out of me. I know how you must be feeling.”
“No, you don’t.” I don’t even know how I’m feeling. My chest is burning, but I don’t know if it’s with vindication or vengeance.
He palms the back of his neck and releases a long exhale. “You’re right … I don’t. But you need to put that shit on ice and think like a Marchesi again. Because the reality is ‘Deadpan Don’ is back at ground zero.”
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw clicks.I hate that damn name.The paparazzi crowned my father with it ten years ago, turning him into an untouchable murderous celebrity. The bastard could duel with the Devil at midnight and have his pitchfork mounted on his wall by dawn.
