Page 49 of Tortured Hearts
“What did you do?” I roar, shoving the muzzle against his skull. “Answer me, or I’ll pull this trigger so many times there won’t be much of you left to bury.”
He glances down to where my fist grips his lapel. “Take your hands off me, boy. Maybe then, I’ll tell you what I walked in on before inviting an encore.”
It’s the raw sadism in his tone that has me taking a step back. “You have ten seconds.”
A slow smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “It seems our resident psychiatrist had one of my best guards so wound up he didn’t know whether to put a bullet in her head or his. Unfortunately, she shared a bit of confidential information, forcing me to make that decision for him.”
He leaves the insinuation hanging like a noose. I don’t give a shit. If the guard was dumb enough to confront Marcello, then fuck him. That’s on him.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do stupid shit.”
Either the insult flies over his head or he’s too self-absorbed to care. “Antics like hers make things too unpredictable.She already pussy-glamoured you into fucking her instead of breaking her, so I sent Henry in there to rattle her chains a bit.”
My vision blurs, and I see red. “You son of a bitch.”
“I’m afraid he got a little overzealous,” he continues with a wave of his hand. “I’m not sure if fucking her was supposed to punish her or you. Regardless, when he hadn’t returned, I came down here to find his cock in his hand and your whore pinned to the wall.”
“Did he…?” The words shatter like glass in my throat. Blood coats my tongue, the taste igniting a familiar craving. I want more. Ineedmore.
“Defile your precious Becca?” he mocks. “No. I stopped it before he could shove his dick in her.” I let out a volatile breath which feeds his ego. “But not because I care, Gianni. I denied him because he acted without permission. Your pathetic obsession with this woman means nothing to me. Next time, I may not be so accommodating.”
My vision turns from red to black, and my demons demand blood. But that’d be too easy. I don’t want it to be a single bullet that ends his life. I want pain and torture and the slow burn of the very thing he covets most. “He can’t touch her if he’s dead.”
He chuckles. “I have over fifty men on my payroll who have an appetite for blondes and a complete lack of conscience. So, go ahead. But know every stand you take against me costs yourputtanaanother piece of her soul.”
That final shred of control snaps, and I lunge with a roar, pinning him to the wall with a forearm to his throat and my gun between his eyes. I don’t offer a counter-threat or think beyond the hatred boiling inside me as I start to pull the trigger…
Then freeze as I feel the muzzle of a gun at the back of my head.
“Apparently, Angelo’s sweep of your house wasn’t as thoroughas he claimed.”
My molars clamp together so hard, the muscles in my jaw twitch.
Fucking Anton.
My father’s gaze shifts around me. “I’m not surprised. It appears the useless fuck had the IQ of an inbred chimp. I regret killing him so quickly.”
I don’t know whether to thank Anton or shoot him. It’s the second time in less than twenty-four hours he’s aimed a bullet at my skull. However, his untimely arrival saved us both. Any satisfaction from killing Marcello would be over once I realized I’d done exactly what the Authority instructed menotto. Once word got to Toscano, it’d be lights out for both of us.
Plus, I have to admit, blaming a dead guard for the gun in my hand was some quick thinking. The least I can do is add a few colorful details to the story.
“Maybe he took your ‘sweep’ order a little too literally and pushed a broom around because this Glock was in my fucking nightstand. Christ, this whole family operates like a bunch of broken bumper cars.”
Anton smacks his gun against the back of my head before prying mine from my hand and dropping it in his pocket. “Go,” he orders, swinging the barrel up the stairs. “I’m taking you home.”
Marcello waves his hand. “No need. I don’t believe my son will step over any more lines.” He straightens his suit jacket and winks as he brushes past me. “Will you, boy?”
“Call me ‘boy’ one more fucking time. I dare you.”
Ignoring me, he turns to Anton. “Everything go as planned in Hackensack?”
His second-in-command offers a curt nod. “You headed back to the ’Boo?”
“No. I’m heading to Newark to meet with Sal.”
My hands curl into fists.Unfortunately, my unholy union wasn’t my father’s first attempt at world domination. A few years ago he set his sights on creating a Garden State monopoly. Once the window of opportunity opened, he dressed my sister in white and tossed her through it. Figures he’d waddle off to conspire with my spineless brother-in-law. I suppose it’d be too much to hope for the entire city to implode in a delightful two-for-one deal.
“Station a new guard down here,” he says to Anton, “and revoke my son’s access. This is my house, not a fucking bordello.” He starts up the stairs, only to pause halfway up and stare at me with a predatory smile. “You could learn a thing or two from your brother-in-law about keeping a woman in line. Your sister used to be as manipulative as your doctor … then Sal broke her, too.”
