Page 30 of Twisted Embrace

He chuckled. “You think of everything.”

In my position I had to. “Put a rush on the tests.”

“You got it, boss.”

Nodding, I headed toward the bank of windows at the end of the corridor, avoiding the waiting room altogether. I’d need to have a full conversation with D’Artagnan, bringing him up to speed on what had occurred.

I fingered the letter in my pocket, staring out the window as the twilight swiftly moved into darkness. If I had to guess, I’d say the Russian slugs would be crawling the streets already, looking for any sign of remaining Cosa Nostra. However, their real prize was Joy. Now what I needed to determine was what I would do with her. She was valuable to far too many organizations, which meant I couldn’t allow her to go free. If I did, she’d either be shipped off to another location or killed.

While the fury remained, another dark sense of need had taken control of both my mind and body. The woman stirred far too many sadistic needs that had a way of twisting my insides. It was one of the reasons I’d remained alone during the last few years. What Joy didn’t understand was that she was in far more danger by being in my company than she was in anyone else’s.

What had to be thirty minutes later, I noticed D’Artagnan’s approach in the window. I’d seen the man enraged and joyous, rarely in between. With his shoulders slumped, I realized what I hadn’t witnessed before was the broken side to him, although I knew it existed.

It did with almost everyone involved in the Cosa Nostra. The requirements and constant violence had a way of sucking the life out of you.

He flanked my side, remaining quiet for almost a full minute. “Is the woman responsible?”

“Not outwardly.”

His snort was a clear sound of disbelief. “What the fuck does that mean?”

I slipped the letter from my pocket. “You need to read this.”

Without bothering to look at what I was handing him, he snatched it from my hand. Then he leaned against the window so he was facing me, taking less than a minute to scan the information. “Are you certain this is accurate?”

“Given what Igor and Dimitri said before their deaths, yes.”

“Then how did the Russians find out about the baby shower?”

My jaw was suddenly tight. “It’s one of two ways. Igor’s secret was discovered by Boris, which is what I think happened.”

“Or?”

I tipped my head to study his eyes. “Or we have a traitor in our ranks.”

He bristled, glancing down the hallway as he returned the letter. We’d kept our conversation hushed but when he nodded toward the stairwell, I also threw a gaze down the long corridor before following him. He moved down to the first landing, leaning against the cinderblock wall.

“I don’t need to tell you that there couldn’t be a worse scenario than to be stuck in New York for an undetermined length of time.”

“What did the doctor say about Lucia?”

Sighing, D’Artagnan leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. It was obvious he hadn’t slept since learning the news. “She’s stable for now but her condition is still dicey.”

“The baby?”

When he rubbed his eyes, I looked away. I might be considered his family but in my mind there was no room for the Don of the Cosa Nostra to become emotional.

“They’re running tests in the morning to see if there’s any brain damage. Lucia lost a lot of blood, which affected the baby’s heart. They just don’t know if he or she will be born braindead.”

“Fuck.” In the years I’d known D’Artagnan, he’d changed significantly. Both of us had. Maybe we’d been born with a lust for life, but our respective fathers had managed to beat it out of us. Maybe that’s why we were able to tolerate and respect each other. We were two broken men. “Does Sophia know?” Lucia’s and my sister was more of a fragile soul, perhaps the most broken out of all of us. She’d suffered the most when our father had one of what Lucia had told her were spells.

His rage had been uncontrollable at times, his violent nature causing continuous damage inside our home. Broken mirrors, busted windows. New sets of plates every few months. It had started with his abuse of our mother.

Until I’d stepped in at age nine or ten. I would never forget the first time he’d pulled off his belt. As I aged, things got worse. It was the sound that had nearly destroyed Sophia even though Lucia had done everything in her power to keep the girl calm including singing to her.

No wonder I’d turned into an evil fuck myself.

“No. She’s happy at school. She has a boyfriend. I couldn’t break her heart until I saw Lucia myself.” D’Artagnan fisted his hand, second later smashing it into the cinderblock.

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