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“Stop.” He let out a sigh. “He ambushed you in the middle of The Hamptons, for fuck’s sake.” He shook his head. “Besides, you gave her a gun, and she protected herself.”
I could see the pride in his eyes, and I was grateful as hell to him for teaching her to shoot, even against her father’s wishes. A small smile worked over my face—my little kitten with her claws. “Shot his dick off, to be more precise.” I snorted.
“I managed to stop him from bleeding out,” Jackson said.
“Good.” I pushed open the door and descended the steps into the cold concrete surroundings of the basement. “You have work to do.”
I wanted to hurt Matteo Romano, cut strips of flesh from his body until he was nothing but blood and exposed muscle, then leave him to die slowly and in agony. Because he fucking dared to try to take my wife. He shot her, and broke her nose, once tried to kill her. He fucking kissed her! And knowing what he did to her sister, I could just imagine what he had planned for Emilia. My pulse ticked up at the thought, and my steps faltered.
No, I wanted to torture him, but with this level of rage, I’d kill him in seconds. We needed him. The rational part of my mind that was completely consumed by Emilia knew Matteo was our best chance and only potential lead in finding Sergio.
Removing both my guns from their holsters, I handed them to Jackson. “Keep a hold of these for me.”
His brow lifted. “Well, you just ruin all the fun.”
“Oh, you’ll have your fun. But we need him alive long enough to squeal like a pig being slowly butchered.”
He grinned at that. Jackson liked to savor his suffering, and I wanted that for Matteo; I really did. I wouldn’t let my rage quicken his demise. I stopped outside the door to the interrogation room. “I want everything he has on The Outfit, including Sergio’s location.”
“I want in,” Renzo said.
Jackson lifted a brow at the kid. “You can’t lose it and kill him. No matter what he says.”
Renzo took his own gun and handed it to Jackson. “I’m good.”
They both looked at me, and I nodded. “Fine. But don’t kill him.” I would be the one to watch his worthless soul leave him when the time came.
“Gio, I think…” Renzo sighed. “I think it might be good to let Luca in on this.”
I narrowed my eyes at the young Donato. “Luca isn’t with us, so technically, he’s on Romano’s side.”
“If he does anything, I’ll take responsibility and put my brother down. It’s a win, win. Emilia can’t hate you.” His gaze held mine. “That’s the only reason he’s even still alive, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was, but my weakness for Emilia shouldn’t be so obvious. It put her at risk.
“Look, I think Jackson and I can probably drag some pretty damning things from that piece of shit. Things I think my brainwashed brother should hear.”
I really had nothing to lose here, except… “Fine.” I pulled a key from my pocket and stepped toward the other door in the hallway. “But don’t harm Luca. Emilia might hate me if I killed him, but she’d hurt worse if you did it.”
A slight smile touched his lips, and he shook his head. “Damn, you’re soft for her.”
“Fuck off.” I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“It’s a good thing. She deserves soft,” he murmured before stepping inside Luca’s room.
The eldest Donato was sprawled on a narrow bed that wasn’t quite big enough for his frame. He stared at the ceiling, refusing to even look at us.
“Finally come to kill me?” he asked.
I was all out of patience for his dramatic petulance, and I hadn’t forgotten the state he had left Emilia in the last time they had spoken. “Get up. You’re going to see a show.”
He frowned at me. “What?”
“Get the fuck up,” I snapped. I was on edge, and I wanted nothing to do with these Outfit assholes who dared to threaten my wife—unless it involved killing them, of course.
Luca pushed to his feet and hesitantly followed us out of the room and into the one next door. He stilled in the doorway at the sight of Matteo chained up, hanging from the ceiling. He’d been stripped down to his boxers, and Jackson had bandaged what looked like a sanitary napkin over his crotch.
The worm thrashed on his hook at the sight of a possible ally, mumbling incoherently around the BDSM-style ball gag.
I pointed to the chair in the corner. “Take a seat, Luca.”
He remained where he was, fists clenching, jaw ticcing. Jackson grabbed his shoulder and forced him into the chair.
If Luca was even half a fucking man, he’d want to watch the guy who drove one sister to the grave and just shot the other one suffer. But he’d already threatened Emilia once, like the pussy he was.
