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Chapter
Fifteen
KERES
My boots kick up dirt as I stride across the abandoned parking lot. Ace and Romeo are parked in a black sedan beside the now empty vehicle that the Moretti brothers and their enforcer, Max DiMarco, got out of a few minutes earlier. I watched from my vantage point and am confident they didn’t bring any further backup. Not like they need it. Any one of these men could squash me like a bug if they wanted, which is why I like to be the one holding all the power. And Mia Moretti is power.
I feel the burn of Ace’s and Romeo’s eyes and suppress a smile at the thought of them seething with impotent rage because a feeble woman got the better of them. I glance in their direction and offer them a cheeky wave before pulling the door open and going inside.
The tension in the derelict church is already thick enough to choke on. The evening sun is still high enough in the sky that it bathes the entire room in a warm amber glow that dances over the wooden benches, some of which have been overturned by kids passing through the place. The wall behind the missing altar features the faint outline of a giant crucifix, like an ominous shadow of the past.
“Hey, guys.” I give the three men glaring at me a sickly-sweet smile. They remain standing in what would have once been the aisle that brides and grooms and coffins ventured down. I’ve always been fascinated by abandoned buildings, but churches in particular hold a special interest. How many sins were confessed within these walls? How many were committed? All in honor of a god who doesn’t exist.
The ferocity of Lorenzo’s glare would make a lesser mortal squirm, I’m sure, but I’ve dealt with crueler men than him almost my entire life—or at least as cruel.
I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin even as a tiny sliver of doubt threatens to shatter my confidence. Without Joey, I have no way of knowing whether my plan will work. Not only is she a Moretti, but I’ve seen the way that giant, Max, fawns all over her. But Lorenzo’s wife—his second wife at that? I have no idea if she has the same kind of value to them. For all I know, she could merely be a pretty trophy for Lorenzo to parade around on his arm.
I take in a deep breath and count to five. A warrior doesn’t escape fear, they conquer it. I breathe deeply, and the crack in my armor remains just that. No danger of breaking me open. Not today.
“Where. Is. She?” Lorenzo grits each word through a clenched jaw, as though every syllable pains him.
I tilt my head, eyeing him with curiosity. “She’s safe. For now.”
His entire body seems to vibrate with pent-up rage, and he inches forward until Dante places a hand on his shoulder, giving the lightest squeeze of his fingers into Lorenzo’s muscle, but it’s enough to still his older brother. Like an obedient dog. It almost makes me smile.
“Where the fuck is my wife?” he asks again.
“She’s safe,” I repeat, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “And she’ll stay that way as long as you do as I ask.”
Lorenzo shrugs off his brother’s steadying hand and surges forward, wrapping his meaty fingers around my throat and squeezing. Unflinching, I glare at him. “How about I just start carving pieces off of you until you tell me where she is?”
He relaxes his grip enough for me to speak. “If I don’t check in with my contact in one hour, alive and unharmed, your wife will die.” His emotional state shifts with such violence that the atmosphere in the room changes. His eyes darken and his features twist, but instead of anger, all I can feel is the soul-destroying, gut-wrenching pain pouring out of him. The corners of my lips curl upward. It seems Mia isn’t a mere trophy after all.
He shakes me like a rag doll, and an animalistic snarl rumbles through him. “If anything happens to her, I will hunt down every single person you’ve ever so much as smiled at, and I will end every single one them. Anyone who has ever meant anything to you will die a slow and agonizing death.”
I smile wider. “That’s a very short list. Some would say nonexistent, in fact. ”
The vein in his temple throbs. Men like him don’t handle impotence well, which only makes this moment all the more satisfying. I hold all the cards here and he knows it. “I will chain you in a dark, windowless basement for the rest of your days, and I will take great fucking pleasure in spending the remainder of mine breaking and cutting and hurting you, little girl. Until you beg for a death that you know will never come.”
A shiver runs down my spine and he feels it too. I hate myself for showing any weakness in his presence. But the visions evoked by what he said—and the knowledge that he meant every word—cause my body to react against my will. “She is the only thing in this world that keeps my conscience in check. If any harm comes to her or our child…”
Our child? What the—she’s pregnant? Bile surges up my throat. That changes everything.
I have no grudge against Mia Moretti. Salvatore Moretti’s children, the people who took over his dynasty of horrors, are who I want to bring to their knees. When I took her, I accepted that her death was collateral damage I could live with. After all, there’s no way she unknowingly married into the fucking Mafia. But if she dies—
No. I would never allow a child to get hurt. Would never be responsible for the death of an innocent. Children are to be protected and nurtured and cared for. And I can’t allow Phoenix’s soul to be tainted by that kind of evil. If anything happens to Mia’s baby, it will mean we’re no better than these sick fucks.
Dozens of horrifying scenarios race through my head at lightning speed. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her or her kid, but I’ll be damned if I give any of these pricks the satisfaction of knowing that.
I roll back my shoulders, hardening my gaze as I stare Lorenzo down. “Then I guess you’d better do as I ask then.” His pupils eclipse the brown of his irises. Fury and terror radiate from him, but he can’t do anything about it. I hold all the power here. “Now take your goddamn hands off me.”
His nostrils flare, but he releases me with a shove. I resist the urge to rub at my raw throat, unwilling to show an ounce of weakness. He paces the floor, running a hand through his hair.
“What the fuck do you want?” Dante asks. His voice is calm and controlled, but his stiff body language belies the anger simmering beneath the surface.
“Some information is all I need.”
Lorenzo spins around. He’s practically frothing at the mouth now, and under other circumstances it might be kind of funny. But I’m under no illusion regarding the strength of the men in this room. As strong and fast as I am, any one of them could kill me with their bare hands in seconds. A bead of sweat trickles down my back.
