Page 64 of The Players

“Wouldn’t miss it. He still alive?”

Gio nodded. “For now.”

Hector left and came back with a bucket of water. He splashed it into Caruso’s face, and the bastard came to, sputtering and cursing.

“This is the end of the line for you, Caruso,” Gio snarled. “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 a cabinet and picked up a cane.

“Fuck you, Detta,” Franco spat, eying the cane warily. “You have any idea who you’re dealing with? You’re a dead man. A dead man!”

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

And right in that moment, Franco finally got the memo—he wasn’t leaving this place alive. That’s when his eyes pinned down Vince.

“What’s he doing here?” he asked. “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.”

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 second, but then he smirked. “Who’s to say it was mine?”

Gio hit Franco in the stomach. Then Vince pushed his whip underneath the fucker’s chin. “Remember Kimberley?”

A hint of recognition flashed in Caruso’s eyes before he masked it. “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.”

Gio smashed the cane to his knee, splintering the bone. Vince relished in that sound, which was like music to his ears.

Then the screaming started. Over and over again, until the man was hoarse. Only when he was barely conscious anymore, did Vince slit his throat.

Another scream pulled him back into the present. Then the names followed, one by one. The last one, they had never heard of.

“Who the fuck is M?” Sy wanted to know.

“I don’t know. That’s what they called him.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Bridemaker,” Chad wheezed out through his broken teeth. “All I know is that he was connected to the Bridemaker.”

Vince saw the same baffled look reflected on Sy’s face.

“I’ve been searching for that fucker for weeks,” Sy said. “Every time I find a lead, it’s like he goes up in smoke or something. What the fuck is the connection between Carmen and him?”

Chad coughed. “I can tell you, but then you’re gonna have to let me go.”

A dangerous gleam entered Sy’s eyes. “Do I now? Now why would I do that if I can just torture the shit out of you until you start singing like a bird?”

“Please! Just hear me out, okay?”

“Let’s hear him out,” Vince said.

Sy looked annoyed. “What? We’re gonna play good gangster, bad gangster now?”

Vince ignored him and looked at Chad. “Start talking.”

“All I know is that the Bridemaker never stays longer than three days in a city. And he only comes back to a city every ten years.”

And there it was—the connection. That picture must be around ten years old. In a weird way, it all made sense now. The rise of Keegan. He was so cocky because the Bridemaker was backing him. And judging by the shipment of fresh brides, ready to be auctioned off in San Fran instead of passing through, the bastard intended to stay. Everyone knew Kristoff didn’t allow child trafficking in his town, so it only made sense for the Bridemaker to want to tip the scales of power in the city.

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