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“Good! I hope they beat the shit out of you. I hope they break every one of your bones, spill every drop of your blood, and brand you so deep the devil himself will recognize it when you get to hell. They were just kids. Innocent young kids you sick fuck.”
Fuck! She has fire.
There’s also no doubt that she’s not acting, or lying. She really does hate him. And his fury is real. We still don’t know her real identity or who she works for, but this knowledge gives me hope that she’s an ally.
Wait. Shipment? Kids? Fuck. It was a human trafficking shipment. I punch him again. My knuckles are bleeding from the force of the impact. Ramirez is temporarily knocked out.
“Livy?” Whispers a voice in the corner. A moment later my enforcer steps forward.
Luca steps next to him and puts an arm out to stop him from getting closer. “You know her?” Asks Luca.
I look to the girl. She looks shocked. Frozen even. She’s not blinking. I’m not sure she’s breathing.
“She’s my daughter.” Replies our enforcer. Holy Fuck!
“What?” Say Luca and I nearly simultaneously. His jaw hits the floor. My eyes flick between my enforcer and her.
The enforcer, Raphael, moves closer to her again. Ignoring Luca’s arm that now falls limply to his side. “Dad?” Says the woman. Her voice shaky.
“Liv. What happened? I’ve been looking for you for days!” He rushes to her and begins to free her from her the chair. I grab his shoulder and pull him back.
“Not so fast. She’s here for a reason. We don’t know if we can trust her.”
“Of course you can. She’s my daughter.” He retorts. The ice in his voice clear.
“And she has been seen with members of every major crime family. She’s up to something. And she isn’t leaving until we find out what, and only if we deem she isn’t a threat.”
“Threat? She’s not…She’s not a threat. She would never do anything to harm the family. She’s loyal.” His voice now pleading. He knows the rules we live by. Threats are exterminated.
“That has yet to be seen. She hasn’t exactly been cooperative thus far.”
Her voice breaks through our standoff. I turn to face her. Her shoulders are slumping. Her lips and fingertips blue. Fuck. She’s too cold. Her body is going into shock. “Because I didn’t know who you were.” Her words come out broken and almost garbled. “First rule, trust no-one you don’t know. Second rule, never betray the family.” She takes a deep, ragged breath. I rip off my suit coat and wrap it around her as I bend to undo her ankles, her father undoes her wrists.
Luca steps forward. “You refused to speak because you didn’t know we were family?”
“Yes.” Her word is barely more than a whisper. “Now I know. I’ll tell you everything.” Her last word fades as her head slumps to the side.
“Shit.” Her dad shouts as he moves to grab her. I’m faster. I scoop her up into my arms. We need to get her to the infirmary. I stand with her in my arms. I take two steps to the door then stop. I turn to look at her father. “After the doctor has a look at her, you and I are going to be having a long conversation about what your daughter has been up to.”
He nods his head and replies. “Yes sir.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Livianna
I WAKE INa warm bed. My body’s still cold, but not nearly as chilled as I was. My head hurts, everything aches, and I’m struggling to remember how I got into this bed. Last thing I remember is being blindfolded and strapped to a chair. Awaiting the next step of my torture. Waiting for the moment it escalates to violence.
“Morning sweetheart.” Comes a familiar voice at my side. I turn my head slowly. Squinting at the bright lights. “We haven’t been formerly introduced. I’m Massimo D’Angelo of the Caruso Family.” He gives me a smile. One I don’t feel up to returning.
“Livianna Conti. Daughter to Raphael Conti, an Enforcer in the Caruso Family.” I answer him out of respect for his position in the family. On a personal level I have no desire to exchange pleasantries. He may be hot as hell, but he can go to hell for all I care. His smile grows at my answer. It’s not hard to surmise that he’s pleased I am finally speaking to him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Livianna.” He stands from his chair and moves closer to me. I wish he wouldn’t. While he didn’t physically put marks on my body he still subjected me to torment for days. I understand why he did it. He didn’t know we played for the same team. Didn’t know he could trust me. Now that that information is out in the open, I can see the regret in his eyes. A shiver wracks through my body. I pull the blankets up to my chin again and try to borrow further into their warmth.
I don’t remember being brought to this room. Wait, what do I remember?
The jail cell, being kept awake, freezing cold water, a room of horrors, oh, and Julio Ramirez, that dirt bag. I hope he’s still alive. Not because I have sympathy for him. No. The opposite. I want him to suffer. I want him to experience weeks, no months, of agony. It still won’t be enough for the pain he’s inflicted on others, but it would be a start.
The room isn’t a hospital or infirmary like I had first thought. I am hooked up to an IV and have some monitors on me. The bed is too soft to be a recovery room bed. The sheets smell faintly of men’s cologne. It’s familiar but I’m having a hard time placing it.
