Page 80 of Tortured Hearts
Marcello may be dead, but everything else has turned inside out and ass-end up.
Anton scowls. “No, Gianni, I didn’t lock it back. I was too busy being distracted by the sound of fucking gunfire.”
“Where is she now?”
“Owen is taking her to the car.” He shifts his stare, drawing my focus back into the hallway. “We have less than thirty seconds. What do we do?”
“Get her the fuck out of Jersey.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“I don’t care. You need to think this through. Not only has she seen the face of every major player in the game, but she has intimate knowledge of Marcello’s badge-buying Rogue fiasco. That alone gives Toscano enough motivation to kill her, but once the feds get wind of this and offer protection for intel, it’ll be a done deal.” He flicks his wrist as if he’srattling off stock options. “It’sLaCosa Nostracode.”
“Fuck the code.” A chest-beating, gut reaction that only stirs the pile of shit we’re in rather than fixes it.
According to Anton’s low, exasperated breath, he agrees. “Then the only way to circumvent the lawsandthe code is to play both to your advantage.”
“What are you saying?”
“You’re the boss now, right?”
“So?”
“So the same rule that prevents a boss from being taken out without permission also extends to his immediate family.”
“Who I just fired six bullets into, so unless…” I stare at him, the insinuation tucked between his words seeping through the cracks. “You can’t be fucking serious.”
His gaze sharpens.Apparently, he’s very fucking serious.“The wives of made men are just as untouchable as their husbands. You marry Dr. Brennan, and the Authority can’t do shit to her without a majority vote, which as the new boss of New Jersey, you’re a part of. A ring on her finger not only gives her immunity on the stand, but it’s her only line of defense against the Five Families.”
“Becca’s not Italian.” When he gives me a blank stare, I grit my teeth. “The code also states a boss’s wife must have roots in the Old Country. With names like Reese and Brennan, I can make a confident assumption Becca’s ancestors aren’t Italian.”
“Then change the rules.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
“Same as before, argue your case.”
Once again, Becca’s fate rests in my hands.
My jacket feels like a lead blanket. Shrugging it off, I tug at my collar, then slam both palms onto a glass side table. “A majority vote was a longshot when we were pushing for one exception.” I snap a sharp look over my shoulder. “Lobbying for two is suicide.”
“Do we have another option?” he challenges. “I’ll be honest, Gianni, my priority is protecting your ass, not hers.” I don’t get even a syllable out before he raises his hand. “However,I know if I don’t keep that doctor safe, you’ll keep putting ‘said ass’ on the line.”
I glare at him. While I’m impressed by his pivot, I don’t appreciate being silenced. “What did I say about putting your hand in my face?”
He quickly lowers it, then stuffs it in his pocket. “I get it. You didn’t want her stained by this life. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. Now that she’s shown her face, you either bring her in or let her die.”
And that’s the fucking pile of quicksand we’re all in. The one I did everything to prevent Becca from falling into. But here we are, waist-deep in it, and the more we struggle the faster we sink.
Still, the idea of being married to Becca is tempting.Too tempting.Somewhere beneath all my scars, there’s a twinge of guilt. Forcing Becca into marriage is the same thing Marcello tried to do to me, only worse. At least he never tried to pretend it was for my benefit.
My jaw clenches.
Mirror the footsteps, mirror the man.
While I’m angry at fate, my guilt at trapping her in this life isn’t enough to risk hers.
