Page 81 of Tortured Hearts
“Take her to my house,” I say, the icy command sounding like it’s coming from someone else. “You know the code.” I don’t wait for a response. Turning my back to him, I make my way toward my father’s office.
Chapter Twenty-Five
GIANNI
Present Time
To the normal, everyday citizen, sitting down to a business meeting in the same room where one just committed cold-blooded patricide would seem like psychopathic behavior. But for those of us born and raised in the cut-throat world of the mafia, it’s just a typical Saturday night. Pull the trigger enough times and even murder becomes routine and mundane.
Once I rejoin the Authority, Toscano wastes no time. Within seconds he sections off the other three bosses and remaining Marchesi soldiers into debriefing, clean-up, and damage-control crews. Once everyone clears out, he closes the door and steps over Marcello’s dead body to claim the seat behind his desk.
I lean my shoulder against the wall and watch with mild disinterest. “Is there a reason you’re in my seat?”
“I’ve always liked you,Gianni.”
“Considering you wanted my head on a stake less than twenty-four hours ago, I think we have extremely different definitions of that word.”
“What I don’t like is being lied to,” he says, lowering his gaze to my father’s rapidly graying body. “Something the Deadpan Don found out a little too late. The forgiveness of a broken oath in our world is unprecedented. The Authority broke tradition and sacrificed a chance at revenge to remove a liability. Therefore, I suggest not taking this opportunity you’ve been given lightly.”
“What makes you think I’m taking it lightly?”
“In Staten Island, I asked you what Marcello was holding over your head that was so valuable you’d refrain from shooting him on sight. You gave me some half-assed excuse of him threatening the ones you loved.” His stare sharpens as his cadence slows. “But it washer, wasn’t it? That blonde in the hallway was the leash around your neck. Who is she?”
“An innocent victim who has nothing to do with this.”
Toscano’s fist hits the desk so hard glass rattles. “I’m warning you—I want full transparency, or that olive branch we extended gets snapped in half. Then, it’ll be open season on you, Anton,andyour girl.”
Goddamn him for backing me into another corner. There’s no way to avoid this now. Toscano doesn’t toss out idle threats. Not only will he follow through, but he’ll make sure I’m the last to die. At least by answering, I control the narrative.
“She’s a psychiatrist from Providence. I was forced to visit her as part of my ‘Johnny Malone’ persona. One thing led to another and…” I scrub my hand down my face, reining in the urge to take his fucking olive branch and gut him with it. “She’s important to me; isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
We’re dancing in pointless circles. He’s Benito Toscano,capo dei capiof the Five Families. His resources stretch from one coast to the other. He’s going to find out who she is, one way or another. It’s in my best interest for it to come from me.
“Her name is Becca Brennan,” I say reluctantly. “Her father is the Providence police chief, and her mother is the woman Marcello murdered to make him fall in line.”
He sits like a statue, his stony expression giving nothing away. It pisses me off how easily he can pull a reaction from me while my return fire hits like marshmallows on concrete. Finally, he leans forward and clasps his hands on the desk. “This woman knows too much, Gianni. She’s a liability.”
Instinct has me opening my mouth to deny his claim, but I quickly bite down on it. He’s right; sheisa liability. One that, in his position, I’d eliminate as well.
It’s then I realize Anton is a lot more cunning than I gave him credit for.
“She doesn’t have to be.”
“Reality and wishes aren’t the same thing, but go on.”
“I could marry her.”
All traces of amusement slip from his face. “I don’t have time for jokes.”
“Good, because I’m deadly serious. The moment Becca says, ‘I do,’ silence is her only option. The feds won’t care that she was kept against her will. Once she’s a Marchesi, the blood spilled here tonight will stain her hands, too.”
“So you want to marry this woman to protect her from retribution.”
“And interrogation. A wife can’t be forced to testify against her husband.”
“That doesn’t mean she’ll invoke that right. The feds can be persuasive.” There’s a slight break in character as a cool smirk tugs one corner of his mouth. “You know that firsthand.”
