Page 38 of Sinful Vow (Dark Mafia Sins 1)

Mancini is much older than I’ve kept in my memory. Even though I’ve seen him through the years, each time I think about him, I get the same image of the day we met.

“You are nothing more than a street thug who thought he could marry a mafia princess,” he sneers at me. “I want one of your daughters for my son.” He looks straight toward my father, pretending I don’t exist.

My father may welcome one of Mancini’s daughters and treat her as one of his, but Pierre Mancini would never return the kindness.

“Never,” my father says, his voice firm. They would have to pry one of my sisters out of his dead hands for him to turn one over to our enemy.

“Then why would you think you could take my only daughter?” he questions. “You have four. Pretty ones too.”

I want to squeeze Mancini’s throat in my hands, but I refrain.

“For a man whose daughter is missing, you don’t seem to care that much. You’re more worried about gaining a daughter to replace her,” I say.

“I thought we wanted to bury the hatchet, so to speak,” he baits us. “Wasn’t a truce initiated at the same time you stole from me?”

“You’re getting old, and everyone is stealing from you. Even your own son.” I watch for his reaction, getting ready to pounce with the news I can’t wait to give. I’ve built this moment up, ready to poke holes in everything he has said or done.

A low growl erupts from his chest. I want to keep hitting him until I break him. One piece of information at a time.

“I want your blessing for my marriage to Aly, in return for information that will save your life and family.”

“You come to my meeting, insulting me by asking if one of my men has my daughter. Implying I would be hiding her. And then you ask for my blessing? Show me my daughter alive, and then maybe I will consider it.”

“Don’t be a fool, Mancini. We are trying to make amends for the better of all our families. It’s a fair trade. Your daughter already loves my son.” My father speaks trying to place reason in the room.

“I will not be a puppet to whatever you are planning. When I find my daughter, I will come for Luca.” I watch Mancini stand up, ending our meeting. The folder in front of me sits untouched, no one even eyeing it. What’s inside are pages and pictures of his son selling him out to allow Jonny to take his father’s spot. Jonny gave the FBI all the information they need to put his father away. Leaving him the lone shark in the water. He was no longer happy being a capo, but wanted the title of boss.

“We will find your wife,” my father reiterates, his hand on my shoulder.

Stepping out of our private room, our men surround us. This is not a truce, and the war has escalated.

Moving toward our cars, a package with a red bow sits on my car’s hood. I stop as my men inspect it. It could be a bomb.

“It has your name on it,” they confirm.

“Open it.” Inside the box is a small memory stick. Picking it up, I roll it in my hands before shoving it in my pants pocket.

OnceI’mhomebymyself, I place the stick in my computer. I wait to see my wife’s beaten face or limp body, but instead, it’s a video of me.

It shows me lining up my slingshot, the rock sailing through the air. It has our whole altercation that changed my life. I try to think what the significance of this video might mean to someone other than me. It was the day my life changed for the better. I turn the video off, unable to watch my two friends get shot in cold blood.

Picking up my phone, I call Vinny. “Find out what happened to my old foster parents,” I order.

Chapter 32

Luca

Anothertwodaysgoby. I have more blood on my hands as I try to follow every lead. My old foster parents are dead. Died of old age. I’ve even begun looking up some of the other foster kids I met throughout the years. Through it all, there is no evidence of my wife anywhere.

My phone rings. “What?” I answer, annoyed that I’m being interrupted while I think of different avenues to explore.

“Luca?” Aly’s sad, terrified voice rings through my ear. Her trembles claw at my soul, marking her as mine more than ever.

“Aly, are you all right?”

My heart nearly bottoms out when she doesn’t answer.

Seconds tick by before a deep, altered voice responds, “I’ll text you an address. Be there in thirty minutes, no weapons, no hiding behind anyone else. Otherwise, she won’t live to see your first anniversary.”

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