Page 42 of The Leader

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Gio left the clinic—leaving Raoul behind to take Jazzy home whenever she was ready—and took a cab to Vince’s club. He entered the building from the back entrance.

Hector was already there waiting for him, his usual scowl accompanied by fury blazing in his eyes. His friend had a protective streak when it came to women and children. Jazzy almost getting hurt on his watch, would only make the former Marine want a piece of Caruso even more.

“This way,” he practically growled, leading the way downstairs.

Unlike Vince, Gio wasn’t into the whole BDSM scene, so he hadn’t visited the place before. Despite the fucked-up evening he had so far, he couldn’t stop a smile when he found out where Hector had stashed Caruso.

“The dungeon?”

The big man shrugged. “Seemed fitting.”

Caruso’s body was tied to a St. Andrew’s cross. He wasn’t moving.

“He still alive?”

“I stitched his wound up. Didn’t want thecabrónto die on you before you had a chance to…talk to him.”

The door to the dungeon opened and Vince walked in.

“Figure you’d want to be here,” Gio said to welcome him.

His brother had been wanting a piece of Caruso, ever since a sub that had once frequented his club had gone missing and all fingers had pointed at Caruso. Of course, the asshole knew how to cover up his tracks, so he got away with it. That is, until now.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” There was a coldness in his brother’s eyes, directed at the figure chained against the wall. “He still alive?”

Gio nodded. “For now.”

Hector left the room and came back with a bucket of water that he splashed into Caruso’s face. Caruso came to himself, sputtering and cursing.

It took all Gio had to not shove a knife through his throat. That would be merciful, though. And merciful was one thing he was not when it came to someone threatening his family.

“This is the end of the line for you, Caruso. No one hurts my wife and gets to live. If there’s a God you believe in, that you want to make peace with, now would be the time.” He walked up to the cabinet on the right and picked up a nice-looking cane.

“Fuck you, Detta.” Caruso eyed the wooden cane, while trying to hide his fear. “You have any idea who you’re dealing with? You’re a dead man. A dead man!”

Gio had found there were two types of men. The ones that begged for their lives, promising him anything he wanted. And the ones threatening him with everything under the sun. Caruso belonged to the last group, only he had nothing to back up his threat with.

“You are done, Caruso. Your family is done. Your legacy, whatever that might have once been, is done too. No one is going to miss you.”

He saw it happen right before his eyes. That moment when a man knows he’s not going to make it to another sunrise. That moment he loses all hope, and lashes out.

“What’s he doing here?” Franco chin-jerked at Vince. “Came to see me dead so you can console my wife? What? You think I didn’t see how you looked at her at the wedding? All men do. She’s a siren. Looking innocent and fuckable from the outside, but once you start fucking her, she’s as cold as a fish.” He let out a harsh laugh. “I tried everything with her. Even took her to a club once, but her pussy remained cold.”

That’s when Vince lashed out with his whip, marking Caruso in the face. “You sick fuck. Bad-mouthing your own wife. The woman who has just miscarried your child, thanks to the beating you gave her.”

Caruso’s eyes went unsure for a split second, but then that heinous smirk appeared again. “Who’s to say it was mine?”

Gio planted his fist in Caruso’s stomach, making the man grunt in pain. His mood improved immediately.

Vince pushed his whip underneath Caruso’s chin. “Remember Kimberley?”

A hint of recognition flashed in Caruso’s eyes before he looked away. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You butchered her, asshole. I know it was you. Let’s see how well you take to all the toys you put your subs through.”

Before the fucker could get another word out, Gio smashed the cane to his right knee, splintering the bone.

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