by LK Shaw
“Yes, your hospitality is always gracious,” one of the men says.
“Excellent.” He lays his hand on my lower back. Can he feel me tremble with nervousness? “Lorenzo, Mario, allow me to introduce my wife.”
As with the doorman, both men nod respectfully, but neither attempt to shake my hand. “Mrs. Ricci.”
I don’t know where these men fall in my husband’s organizations hierarchy, but I recall Jacob’s words about being friendly, yet maintaining distance. So I smile politely and incline my head a fraction. “A pleasure, gentlemen.”
Jacob holds out a chair for me, and the four of us sit. Both Pierce and Giovanni take standing positions to the rear on either side of us. I’m sure it’s intentional, and I’m grateful for the exterior seat. It allows me the chance to take in my surroundings. Absently, I listen in on their discussion, but it’s not nearly as interesting as everything else around me.
Groups of women dance together, with the occasional brave man attempting to insert himself and tempt one of the women to join him. A few actually manage to succeed. Couples hold each other close, the women moving sexually against their man.
I shift a little in my seat at the thought of doing that to Jacob. Writhing sinuously against him, teasing him as sensual music plays around us. In my mind, he spins me around, gripping my hips tightly, as I grind my ass against his hardness. We move into a darkened corner where he pulls my dress up in the back. Just enough that he can slip his hand in between my legs. I’m soaking wet, and he easily slides two fingers inside me from behind.
“Brenna,” he calls my name. A warm hand lands on my thigh, and I jerk. Oh my god. My head snaps in Jacob’s direction. His eyes are full of heat as though he knows exactly what I’d been daydreaming about.
I clear my throat. “If you’ll excuse, I believe I’ll run to the ladies room.” I rise without waiting for his response, and rush down the steps. I’m walking at a sharp clip but slow when it occurs to me that I have no idea where it is.
I turn to find Giovanni next to me.
He gestures discreetly with a nod in a different direction. “The ladies room is that way.”
I straighten my shoulders and nod, almost regally. “Thank you, Gio.”
With him still trailing behind, I finally manage to make it to my destination. Several women actually move out of my way. The rest, my reluctant bodyguard strongly encourages to move. I send him a look. “I could have waited.”
He shrugs. “Mr. Ricci owns this club. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you waiting for anyone.”
No doubt he’s right about my imperious husband. It feels a little weird to have this kind of power for something as simple as a trip to the bathroom.
“I’ll be right out here,” Gio says.
Leaving him where he stands, I step into the beautifully appointed room, equipped with its own female attendant. If it were any other dance club bathroom, I imagine the sinks would be wet, paper towels would be falling out of the trash cans and scattered on the floor, most probably along with squares of toilet tissue. Instead, this reminds me of a fancy hotel bathroom. It smells clean and it’s practically spotless.
Quickly I enter one of the empty stalls and take care of my business. I’ve finished washing my hands at the sink and turn to leave. I nearly collide with a statuesque brunette dressed in a fire-engine red dress that appears painted on. A flare of envy spikes at how good she looks in it, too.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize.
Her razor-sharp glare travels over me, the disdainful expression on her face distorting her gorgeous features. I nearly rear back from the force of it, but manage to hold my ground.
“So,” she draws out looking down her nose at me, and not just because she’s inches taller than me. “I can see why he left you on your wedding night.”
“Excuse me?” Who is this woman, and what is she talking about?
“Emilio certainly got a poor bargain having to marry you. No wonder he met me here that night.”
I suck in a harsh breath. The…bitch in front of me smiles in satisfaction. A proper response escapes me. If Caitlín were here, she’d curse so loud and plentiful, saying things I couldn’t even conjure up, and then she’d probably punch that smirk off this woman’s face. Me? I have nothing to say. Instead, I step around her, careful not to brush up against her, and exit the ladies room while trying to keep my head held high.
Gio is right outside the door. He takes one look at my face and straightens. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head and keep moving.
“Brenna—“
I whirl on him. “Stop talking,” I snap. Instant regret fills me, but I don’t apologize. It’s all I can do to keep it together. Angry, pain-laden strides lead me down the short hallway and out the front door.
The town car is still sitting there. I climb into the backseat, probably flashing my ass to anyone paying attention. Giovanni gets behind the steering wheel. I meet his concerned gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Take me home.” I glare at him when he doesn’t start the car.
Finally, the engine revs and we leave the hated club behind.
Chapter 27
Jacob
* * *
My gaze follows my wife’s departing figure. Before she’d rushed off, I’d scented her arousal. I doubt anyone else had noticed, but I certainly had. It’s a scent I’ve become addicted to during the last week. It’s almost as though she’s marked me with it. What had she been thinking about? I shake off the distraction and return my attention back to Lorenzo who’s still speaking.
“Paulie has expressed some concerns regarding the deal that is supposed to go down tomorrow,” he says.
“What concerns does he seem to have?” There’s a bland tone to my question. Pierce is the only person who can hear the barely controlled rage behind it. I won’t give these men any reason to believe there is discontent within the organization, but I will be having a face-to-face with my adopted uncle once this deal is complete. His behavior has bordered on betrayal one too many times.
Lorenzo shares a glance with Mario, who responds. “He’s received intel that the Russians are planning to outbid you on the shipment of items coming in from overseas. We can’t afford to lose any money on this deal. I’m sure you understand.”
“I assure you that neither of you will lose a dime. In fact—” My entire body snaps to attention.
What the fuck is Mikhail Popov doing in my club? His grin is cocky, and he offers me a mock salute before he sits and picks up the flute of champagne from the center of the table. He leans back, ankle crossed over his knee, and takes a casual sip.
To my right, my cousin vibrates with rage. Lorenzo and Mario turn to see what’s captured my gaze. Both men swivel back in my direction, but my focus remains on our greatest enemy. Rage turns to panic. Where’s Brenna? Shouldn’t she and Gio have returned already? Fuck.
Calmly, I speak to Pierce. “Go find my wife.”
Without argument, he descends the stairs and disappears into the crowd. From the inner pocket of my suit, my phone rings. I yank the device out and swipe the screen before raising it to my ear. Popov’s grins widens.
“Jacob,” Brenna screams on the other end. Then the call ends.
I’m the down the stairs before my next breath, moving swiftly through the club. My only thought is to find my fucking wife. I call Pierce.
“What is it?” he answers.
“They have Brenna. Meet me outside.”
“Fuck.”
I pull up the tracking app on my phone to get a location. The little blue light is flashing. I slam open the front door and find Pierce pacing near the town car. We both jump into the back.
“Head toward Flushing Avenue,” I bark at Aurelio. I continue giving directions, trying not to think about what they may have done to Brenna. Our driver veers in and out of traffic, making turn after turn until finally we come to a full stop. Flashing lights brighten the night sky. Police cars,
fire trucks, and an ambulance surround the crushed black vehicle. I dive out the door. A cop stops my attempt to bypass the barricade.
“Get your hands off me,” I snap. “My wife was in that car.”
“Bingham, let him through.”
The young street cop turns. Standing near the scene is a suit-clad officer. One who happens to be on my payroll. He gestures with two fingers for me to step past. I slip under the waist-high bar and join him.
“Where’s my wife?” I try to control the panic in my tone. “The driver?”
He shakes his head. “She wasn’t here when I arrived on scene. According to the responding officer, the only person in the vehicle was a man in his mid- to late-20s with multiple gun shot wounds. They’re about to transport him to Wyckoff Heights Medical. Not sure he’s going to make it. I’m sorry, but we don’t know where your wife is.”
“The river will run red with the blood I spill if any harm comes to her,” I vow and, without another word, head back to where Pierce waits.
“The bastards have Brenna, and they left Gio for dead.” We jump into the car. “Take us to my father’s house.”
He’s ruled this syndicate for forty years. The families are loyal to him. Our business associates are loyal to him. He has the connections I haven’t made yet. The trust I haven’t built yet. This is my wife’s life. I’m not too proud to ask my father for his guidance and help.
“Who the fuck let Mikhail Popov into my club?” I bite out. “It can’t be coincidence that he shows up the same night we have a meeting with Lorenzo and Mario. He knew we were going to be there. Which means someone told him.”
“Who knew about the meeting?”
“Only you and Giovanni.” I shake my head. “No, my father also knew.”
From the moment of my arrival back in Brooklyn, my loyalty and commitment to duty has been in question. Surely he wouldn’t be using this as some sort of test? I swear to Christ, if it’s his fault Brenna was taken, I will put him in the ground. Father or not.
We pull up to the house. Several lights are on despite the late hour. I jump from the vehicle and take the steps two at a time. I don’t knock and wait for Marta. Instead, I use a key I haven’t used in over seven years. Pierce enters behind me. Raised voices come from the second floor. Quietly, I climb, withdrawing my gun. We follow them to my father’s office. The door is ajar.
“This alliance was a mistake. Your son continues to let the Russians gain power. He takes unnecessary risks that fail to reap any rewards. The Brooklyn Kings are not feared like they were before the captains swore fealty to him. There is unease within the families.” My adopted uncle’s voice seeps through the crack.
“The alliance is no longer under debate. It is done. You may still be one of our most trusted advisors, Paulie, but my son is the head of our organization.” There’s steel in my father’s voice. “If there is unease, then he will mend it.”
“Emilio doesn’t have the strength to mend it. He is weak. He ran away seven years ago, instead of doing what he should have done. Which was to accept his birthright. Become the future ruler of this syndicate.”
“Watch how you speak of my son. You pledged your loyalty to him along with the rest of the family heads. Do not betray that vow.”
“I would never betray this family,” Paulie growls. “Everything I’ve ever done has been for the organization. Everything. Your son is destroying all that we’ve built. He isn’t fit to rule over this syndicate. We both know he never wanted it in the first place.”
“It doesn’t matter what he does or does not want. Emilio knows his duty.”
“Duty?” Paulie sneers. “Your son has no idea what that even means. If he did, he would have done it when I took care of that distraction seven years ago.”
Chapter 28
Brenna
* * *
My eyes are surprisingly dry. I can’t even manage tears. Instead, I stare out the window, the unfocused city passing us by. I try to recall my wedding night. Jacob touching me, then rushing out the door. He’d been gone for hours, and by the time he came back it had been late. Thinking back, it’s the one time I remember ever seeing his perfectly tailored suit wrinkled. Even his tie had been askew. He’d ignored my question about taking care of his business. I try to recall if I smelled any perfume, but the memory of that night isn’t clear enough.
“Brenna,” Giovanni calls gently from the front seat.
I sigh in sadness. “Yes, Gio?”
“Are you ready to talk about what happened back there?”
His question sparks something inside me. “Were you waiting outside our townhouse the night of my wedding?”
“Yes,” he answers, confusion evident in his tone as though he’s not sure why I’m asking.
“Where did you take my husband that night?”
“He asked me to take him to Divine.” He says it so casually as though he’s not destroying my heart.
My chest hurts at his response. I want to ask more questions, but two things hold me back. Do I want to know the answers, and do I trust Gio to tell me the truth? Despite our growing friendship, he is still Jacob’s employee before he’s my friend. My mother’s advice comes back to me. Be a good wife. Because that’s what she is.
A good wife.
A good mother.
Except, I’m not her. I will never be like her. She’s happy to stay at home waiting for Da. They’re both happy with that arrangement. It works for them.
It doesn’t work for me.
“In the bathroom, a woman approached me,” I begin. “Tall, brown hair, beautiful. I don’t know who she is, but she certainly knows who I am. She told me that Jacob met her there that night.”
“That’s a fucking lie,” Gio snaps. No hesitation. No guilty prevarication. I curse the way my heart flips.
“How do you know?” I ask, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.
“Because I was beside Mr. Ricci the entire time he was there. The only time he had been out of my sight was the less than five minutes it took him to go to the men’s room and then return. He sat in the same spot as tonight, drank a couple whiskies, and conducted business like he usually does.”
I open my mouth to respond, but my body is viciously thrown across the car. A scream erupts instead. I slam into the door. My head smacks the window, hard, and there’s ringing in my ears. My vision is blurry. A groan comes from the front seat.
“Gio?” I cough out, but there’s no response.
The door opens and someone grabs me by the hair. I cry out in pain as I’m dragged out of the car. My limbs are uncoordinated, and I hit the ground, but I’m yanked to my feet. My abuser slams me against the side of the town car and pins me with his heavy weight. He grinds himself against me, his breath hot in my ear. Someone on the other side of the car yells at him in a foreign language. The two argue, and he jumps back, pulling me with him. My head is throbbing from being jerked around.
The second man rips open the driver’s side door and fires several gunshots into the vehicle.
“Gio,” I scream. I’m backhanded for my effort.
I’m being pulled over to a large black SUV. I try looking over my shoulder to locate Giovanni, but my captor throws me into the backseat and climbs in behind me, shutting us in. The second man dives behind the steering wheel. The tires squeal as we race away. I cower in the corner, wanting to make myself as small and as invisible as possible. The abductor beside me pulls out his phone. He speaks rapidly into it. I’m almost positive it’s Russian.
The call ends and he turns to look at me. There’s pure evil on his face. He makes another phone call and places it on speakerphone.
“Scream for your husband,” he orders then squeezes my breast. I thrash to get away from him, but he’s too strong. Faint music comes from the phone as though it’s been answered.
“Jacob,” I yell at the top of my lungs. He releases his punishing grip on me and disconnects the call. Tears pour down my face. He doesn’t touch me again,
but continues leering. I’m so focused on watching him, I pay little attention to where we’re going. Before long, we pull into a driveway. It’s long and winding. Finally, we come to a secured gate.
It opens, and and we continue along the drive until we reach a large white or gray building. There is minimal lighting so I can’t tell in the dark. It’s only a single story, but it stretches out in either direction with a single door and few windows. The driver follows the circle drive and stops in front of the entrance. My abductor grabs my arm, his fingers digging so hard into it I’m sure I’ll be bruised for days. At least he’s giving my hair a break.
I’m dragged through the building, stumbling as I try to keep up with their pace. Fear is my only companion. Are they going to kill me? Rape me? I whimper at the thought. My heart screams for Jacob. These people have already taken one wife from him.
We reach a cold, windowless room. They toss me inside. There’s a click and then a quiet hum before an overhead light flickers. It dims, then surges bright before dimming a fraction and staying at that semi-brightness.
I turn to face the two men who stole me. I’m trembling.
“Strip,” the evil-looking one commands.
“No.” My husband said I was brave, and it’s time I prove it.
“I will not tell you again.”
My hate-filled glare sears into him. “No,” I repeat.
In two steps, he’s closed the distance between us and a crack rings out. My head snaps to the side. Blood fills my mouth, and pain scatters across my face. I don’t have time to react before rough hands tear my dress from my body. I punch and kick, screaming for all I’m worth. Another ear-ringing blow lands to my head. More clothing tears and then I’m standing naked before them, my heels having slid off my feet when I was dragged from the town car.
I cover myself with my arms as best I can and lick the salty fluid from my lips. My left eye is already swelling and my cheek is throbbing. A pounding continues inside my head.
