Page 107 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
“He’s right, Tess. Get out of the way.” Benito’s voice is low and vicious. “In fact, leave the room.”
My breath stutters and the room spins. Long fingers wrap around my wrist. “No, Tess. Stay.”
“Don’t youdaretell her what to do,” Benito growls. “You’re waving a fucking gun about like a child. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“A child?” Fed’s voice is unrecognizable and his hold on my arm is unyielding. Yes, he was a boy when he left, but he’s not a boy anymore. I glance at him through trembling lashes. He’s filled out to twice the size and his cheekbones have emerged through a face of carved granite. I swallow, unable to believe the person who coaxed me through my first sexual experience is the same person still wielding a firearm at the infamous Di Santo consigliere.
“I haven’t been achildsince I watched you murder my uncle in cold blood.”
My eyes flick to Benito expecting him to deny it, but he doesn’t. Somehow I know he wasn’t lying when he said Augie killed Mario, not him, but I guess a Di Santokill is just that—a Di Santo kill. The small matter of who pulled the trigger is irrelevant. “Seeing something thatevilmakes you grow up pretty fast.”
“If you think that’s evil, why are you working with the Marchesi’s?” Benito grits out through a clenched jaw. “Have you forgotten how they killed Tess and Trilby’s mother?”
Federico lets go of my wrist, spins me around and pulls my face into his chest. His coarse whisper reaches my ears. “I’ve got you Tess. Don’t listen to him.”
I dare not move. I use the wall of flesh to hide away. I don’t want to confront any of this. All I know is Benito can do more than hurt me—he can rip out my heart and grind it beneath his foot. I’ve had a small taste of it and the pain is unbearable.
Fed has already given me his worst—he ignored me for over three years. And now he’s back.
Despite the hard lines of his chest, he’s still the softer of the two men. He’s the one least likely to put me in compromising positions that I enjoy too damn much. He’s the one who would listen to Cristiano when he says to keep away, because he’s sensible like that. He doesn’t need to be prepared to lose everything simply because hecan’tstay away.
I feel Benito’s glare on my back but I can’t move.
“Fury Marchesi doesn’t have anywhere near as much blood on his hands as you do,” Fed spits over my shoulder.
“That’s because he got his minions to do his dirty work for him,” Benito bites back. “And if you still thinkthat’s tame, how about the nephews quartering Joe Bigelow and draping his bleeding corpse over a fucking boat and sailing it down the river for everyone—kids included—to see?”
“Fine.” Federico is trembling with anger. “If you want to talk kids, what about your former don’s child trafficking activities? Weren’t you serving him while he was off making deals with the cartel?”
I lift my head at the same time as my stomach drops.It can’t be true. I knew what Savero had planned—we all did—but only after Cristiano discovered it and killed his own flesh and blood, putting an immediate end to those plans. Had Benito known all along?
“I advised Gianni for seven years,” Benito grits out in a voice as low as the devil himself. “IinheritedSavero. And, not that it’s any of your goddamn business, he didn’t let anyone in. Not even me.”
A shiver of relief ghosts down my spine.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he continues. “Why are you working with the Marchesi’s?”
Fed’s breathing steadies, then he says, “I’m not.”
I jerk my head up. “But… you said in your letter…”
“I thought I was,” Fed says, a look of discomfort eating into the corners of his eyes. “But the man I thought was a Marchesi is someone else.”
“Who?” I whisper up at him.
“He isn’t connected to either family,” Fed says, his glare boring into Benito. “But he’s been very helpful to me.”
“In what way?” Benito demands.
“Well,” Federico flicks the wrist holding the gun to check his watch. “I would say that, any second now, your precious restaurant is going to go up in flames.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Benito’s voice dips to a new low and I genuinely fear for Federico’s life.
Fed picks up on Benito’s waning restraint and goads him further. “Your Achilles heel, right? La Trattoria?”
Benito’s gaze flicks to mine then narrows on Federico.
“No—” I push myself away from Fed, breathless. “No-no-no-no. Please say you’re lying, Federico.”
