Page 131 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“Get her out of here,” I rasped under my breath, my eyes never leaving my wife. “Per favore, Francesco.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“This is all very touching,” Virga sneered, “but you’re hardly in a position to give orders, ragazzetto.” He motioned his men forward. “Now, toss your weapons onto the ground. All of them.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

Emma

Icouldn’t breathe. My heart was beating too fast, my mind tripping over the horror surrounding me. I didn’t want Giacomo to die. Not here, not now.

When I first saw him in my father’s driveway, I froze in both surprise and overwhelming relief. Stupid, so stupid. I should have run instead, not let shock root me to the spot. Because of my stupidity, Virga got his hands on me and used me as a human shield to capture my husband.

And now he was forcing Giacomo and Zani to give up their weapons.

“Don’t do it,” I pleaded, which caused Virga’s arm to tighten around me.

“Shut up,” the older man growled. “The weapons, stronzi. On the ground. Now.”

Giacomo carefully lowered his arm and pitched his gun onto the dirt. Zani did the same. Then the guards rushed forward to pat them down, removing the other weapons they had strapped to their bodies. A small arsenal soon piled up at their feet.

Once they were unarmed, Giacomo and Zani were restrained with plastic ties around their wrists, then forced to their knees. Helpless.

I had to do something before it was too late.

The pistol sat heavy in the pocket of my hoodie. I hadn’t forgotten about it, but I wasn’t sure what to do. If I took the gun out now, would Virga shoot Giacomo? Was I shooting behind me at Virga? Could I even do that? I’d never fired a gun in my life.

“You are a traitor, Buscetta, trying to turn the other families against me. Now you will see what I do to traitors to the family.”

Giacomo didn’t flinch. “It wasn’t hard. You are not well liked among the families.”

I could feel Virga vibrating with anger against my back. His hot breath ghosted my ear as he snapped, “You will regret this, ragazzetto. I will make you suffer.”

That didn’t phase my husband either. He shook his head. “No, you won’t. You have to kill me quickly, before D’Agostino and his men return.”

“Maybe I will put you in the trunk and take you somewhere so I can kill you slowly.” He shifted and I could feel his eyes on my profile. “Or maybe I will kill your wife in front of you first.”

Giacomo puffed up, his bicep and pectoral muscles swelling. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, and he reminded me of a dragon about to spit fire. “If you touch one hair on her head, I will peel the flesh from your withered old bones.”

Virga shoved me away from him, then marched down the steps. When I caught my balance I saw he had Giacomo’s hair in a fist, their faces close together. “I hardly think you can stop me, ragazzetto. But hear this: after I kill you I will pass your wife around to my men, who will degrade her and humiliate her. When they’re done I’m sure the Russians have a brothel where she can live out the rest of her days, someplace Ravazzani and D’Agostino will never find.”

A shiver of revulsion, along with a flood of bad memories, went through me at those words. I was kidnapped last year by Russian sex traffickers. It had taken me months of therapy after Enzo rescued me just to sleep in the dark again, and I sometimes still woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of those few days locked in with a dozen other young women.

No way was I going through that again.

And no fucking way was I allowing Virga to hurt my man.

In a blink I pulled the pistol out of my hoodie and aimed it at Virga. Like I’d done it a hundred times before, I squeezed the trigger. The force of the explosion nearly sent me off my feet, my ears ringing as I struggled to stay upright.

When I looked up, chaos greeted me.

Giacomo and Zani were both on their feet, hands somehow now free, fighting with Virga’s guards. Virga was on the ground, unmoving. Had I . . . ? Was he dead?

My stomach twisted and I couldn’t pull my eyes away.

I heard other gunshots, but they weren’t from me. The pistol, heavy and cold, remained clutched in my hand, my arm dangling at my side. What had I done?

I had no choice, right? He was about to kill Giacomo and send me off to a Russian brothel.

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