Something is wrong.
Where is everyone?
I look around the foyer. Shoes are neatly organized and Mama’s car keys are in the porcelain bowl on the table opposite the door.
“Mama!” I call out, sniffing the air.
Again, no response. But what’s stranger is there is no scent of marinara sauce floating from the stovetop and that’s not usual for a Wednesday afternoon. By two o’clock, she’s bustling around the kitchen in preparation for our nightly feast.
The silence deafens me as I take a few steps down the hallway in the direction of my half-sister Via’s room. Maybe she drove Mama somewh—?
Crash! Crack!
The sound of shattering glass makes me jump and I stumble backward into a wall. The glass doesn’t startle me as much as the scream that follows.
Mama.
I look around the foyer for something…anything…and my eyes fall on an umbrella.
At least it has a point.
I tiptoe down the hallway when my mother’s voice pierces the air again.
“No, no, no! Stay away from me!”
I throw open the door to her bedroom, my heart about to explode through my chest as I register the scene in front of me. I leap onto the back of the man who is hovering over my mother’s bloody and bruised body. His arm is raised behind him, a baseball bat clutched in his hand.
I shove the tip of the umbrella into his side, pushing him off of Mama. “You fucking bastard!” I scream, tackling him against a wall and slamming my fists and feet into him, the umbrella still sticking out of his abdomen. He outweighs me by at least a hundred pounds and is a mountain of muscle with a weapon in his grip.
I have nothing but fury guiding my every move.
Mama’s face and head are bruised almost beyond recognition, her bare legs open, her skirt hiked up to her waist.
“Who sent you here? Why the fuck did you do this?” I roll myself on top of him, jamming the umbrella deeper into his flesh.
He lets out a loud groan before he shoves me away and pulls it out of his side. Dropping the umbrella, he pulls out a Beretta and points it at me, his cock still hanging out of his pants. His chest heaves as he backs away toward the door. “Stay the fuck back or I’ll kill you, too,” he grunts.
Mama moans next to me on the once-white carpet, and I scramble next to her as the intruder runs out of the room, the front door slamming shut behind him. “Mama, I have to call the police,” I whimper, holding her cold, limp hand in mine. “I have to go after him!”
“Elia,” she rasps. “This was…your father’s…Nic’s doing.”
“Mama.” Tears pool in my eyes as the blood streams from the gashes on her face and skull. There’s so much blood, I don’t even know where it’s all coming from. “I have to get you to the hospital,” I whisper, bringing her hand to my lips. “Please, Mama. I need you to be okay!”
“There’s no…time,” she chokes. “Elia, Nic…is not…your father. He killed…your real…father.” Tears stream down her face, blood drizzling from the corners of her mouth. “He knew…I loved him. Wanted to marry him. I was wrong for… cheating, but Nic…” she coughs and sputters, her voice cracking. “He’s a savage. Evil. I should have left him a long…time…ago. I should have…protected you, my love.” Her voice fades, a gurgling in her throat making bile rise in my throat.
Because I know what comes next.
“I…love…you so much…Elia. And I’m so…sorry. Please…save…”
Her head drops to the side, her last breath expelling from her swollen lips.
Gone.
Forever.
Because of that monster.
I stomp toward the reading area set up by the door, grab a lamp, and hurl it across the room. It crashes against a wall, shattering into a million pieces.
Like the pieces of my heart when my mother drifted away.
I pull down one of the bookcases, sending shelves full of old paperbacks flying into the air. I let the pent-up rage flow through me, electrifying my insides. “He deserves to die!” I yell, overturning a coffee table. “To fucking rot in hell for what he’s done!” I spin around, seeing Julia huddled into a corner, pulling her robe tight around her. Even if she wanted to escape, the results of my tirade completely blocked her path.
“Why haven’t you already killed him?” she asks in a quivering voice, her eyes wide with terror.
“Because evil never dies,” I pant, leaning my back against the wall. “It always returns in some form or other. The only way to eliminate it is to take away its power. Evil can thrive, even in death. But without a legacy…without power to carry it out…it is nothing.” The corners of his lips curl upward. “That’s how I will destroy him, Julia. When I steal his power and his legacy, making it my own. And you’re a big part of that. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to cripple his plans. And all of my fans are very anxious to see it happen.” I wave my arm toward the cameras, taking a few deep breaths as I inch toward her. “Without you, I wouldn’t be able to rule his empire.” I fumble with the buckle on my jeans, unzipping them, and pushing them to the floor, my cock springing to life as she recoils with a yelp. I slide my hand under the shaft, gripping my thick length tight in my hand, blood rushing to my groin. “God, I love when you watch me do this,” I mumble. “Look at what you do to me, Julia. Can’t you see how right this is?” With my free hand, I stroke the side of her face as she tries in vain to pull away. “Don’t fight it, baby. Be my partner. Help me make him pay, and I’ll make you so happy.” I fist her hair and she squeals as an explosion rumbles deep in my balls, shooting through my insides. I rub myself harder, my hand slick with the cum spurting from the swollen head of my dick. “Because we will be happy, I fucking swear it,” I rasp, my body rocking with tremors of the most intense pleasure I know.
Well, it’s the most intense pleasure I know for now.
That’s going to change soon.
I can just feel it.
She’s going to love me.
She has no other choice.
Chapter Eight
Antonio
“This is morbid as fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I turn off the engine of the car and push open the door. I take my time stepping onto the pavement, eyeing the crowds of people filing in and out of the funeral home. I adjust my tie, but it still feels like a noose around my neck.
I never wear ties.
Last time I did was when Pop died.
“It’s been over a week since she was taken,” my brother Tommy whispers. “He can’t afford to waste any more time.”
A shiver runs through me. Memories pop between my ears like bullets as I step through the throngs of people speaking in hushed tones.
Pop laid out in the casket in his favorite black Armani suit, black tie around his neck, his hands folded around a set of black rosary beads.
Very appropriate because it was the color of his soul.
My younger sister Gianna in tears, surrounded by my brothers as they tried to comfort her.
Me standing next to the casket, berating myself for storming out on him after that last argument. I told him not to take that meeting. I told him the guy couldn’t be trusted.
But as usual, Pop did what he wanted with no regard for anyone else, including his own daughter who could have easily been killed herself.
I knew what was at risk.
I could have stopped it, but I didn’t.
The last exchange I had with my father was marked by scathing words, anger, and disgust.
People I didn’t know filled the viewing room and they all passed me with the same old condolences.
He was such a good man.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
I almost stopped listening after a while, until one harsh voice jolted me back to reality.
Your father deserved to die.
Tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I’ll never forget that voice hiss
ing those words and the smile on the bastard’s face as he strode past me and out of the room.
I bolted after him, pushing through the people pretending to mourn my father.
He was a bastard himself.
Charming and a brilliant businessman, yes, but lethal as fuck.
Everyone knew it and everyone feared him.
Hell, even the hitmen were more afraid of missing their target than the wrath they’d suffer from the people who paid them.
But Pop didn’t deserve that ending.
I could have stopped it…
But he got sloppy.
And he stopped caring.
I guess I did, too.
My throat tightens and a sharp pain shoots down my arm. Beads of sweat pop up along the back of my neck and I rub the stress knot that’s grown to the size of a damn golf ball.
Deep down, I knew it was going to happen.
And I didn’t make an effort to save him.
I swallow hard, trying to calm my breathing as I walk into the funeral home, pushing through a stubborn group of spectators that insists on creating a bottleneck outside the room.
He deserved to die.
He deserved to die.
He deserved to die.
Tommy grabs my arm before I can walk into the viewing area. “We’re not supposed to go inside,” he mumbles. “He’s meeting us in a private room.”
“I’m not doing anything until I pay my respects to his wife.” I shake off his arm. According to my brother-in-law Alek who got the call from Giacomo Graziani himself, his wife was a casualty of war, a war he’d been fighting for years with larger-than-life enemies. They were enemies he didn’t even know he had, enemies made by his own blood. She died because of someone else’s sins, and her now-missing daughter may have suffered the same fate for all we know.
She didn’t deserve it.
It’s been days since their daughter was taken, and I have zero faith that we’ll find her alive. I guess a small part of me wants to at least apologize to her mother in advance for not being able to save her daughter from the same end.
It’s an apology I’ve made plenty of times before.
I sweep a hand through my hair, square my shoulders, and walk toward the front of the room. I pass the group of men congregated at the front surrounding who I can only guess is Graziani himself. I’ve never met him before or even seen a picture, for that matter, but I can just tell. He has a commanding presence and a penetrating stare that is fixed on me as I approach. But it’s not him I’m there to see.
Not just yet, anyway.
It’s a respect thing.
And I don’t respect a man who gives away all power over his livelihood.
That’s exactly what Graziani did when he handed over financial control of one of his companies to none other than his brother-in-law. He put the futures of his wife and daughter at risk because he trusted too much.
Sloppy. Just like Pop.
Fucking idiot. Giacomo may as well have pulled the trigger himself.
Family. It’s just a word until you earn the right to be labeled.
I know from personal experience that even blood can be corrupted for the right price.
My Uncle Gio was one of the men who sold out Pop…his brother-in-law.
Shit, what is it with fucking scumbag brothers-in-law?
Maybe I need to keep a closer eye on Alek.
I move toward the casket, dropping to my knees in front of the angelic-looking woman lying peacefully in the white silk sheet.
Christ, if she only knew…
I say a quick prayer and spring from the kneeler, my eyes grabbing hold of Graziani’s dark stare. He gives his head a quick nod toward the door and whispers something to the man next to him.
Tommy grabs my arm and pushes me toward the door. “I told you not to come in here,” he whispers. “Now you pissed him off.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I mutter, pulling my arm away. “He’s the reason why this is happening in the first place. We were brought here to help him. If he’s gonna be pissed off that I paid my respects to his wife, his victim, he can kiss my ass as I storm out the goddamn door.” I turn to Tommy, my eyes narrowed. “I’m here as a favor to Alek. Period. If it was up to me, I’d be back at home fucking porn stars two at a time.”
Because I really need to just move the hell on with my life and stop pining after a woman who was smart enough to steer clear of me and the mess that is my life.
“What about the daughter?” Tommy says. “It could easily be Gianna. You can’t tell me you’d—”
“The daughter is dead.” I say the words through clenched teeth, an unexplainable ache assaulting my heart.
“You don’t know that.”
“The fuck I don’t. Let’s face it, Tommy. The guy handed over the keys to the kingdom to his brother-in-law.” I lean closer, my voice dropping. “He killed them both.”
“You can’t control everything, Ant,” he murmurs. “As much as you think you can. Stop beating yourself up for—”
My gut clenches as an icy sensation winds through my insides.
“Stop talking,” I hiss at him.
His lips stretch into a thin line. “You need to hear it.”
“No, you’re wrong. I don’t need to hear anything!”
Tommy lets out a frustrated sigh. “You’re a stubborn asshole.”
“I’ve been called worse,” I grunt.
I look up, narrowing my eyes at Graziani as he is ushered out of the viewing room by his posse.
When I look at him, I’m blinded by rage, regret, and guilt.
Because I’ve made the same fucking mistakes he has, and I will never forgive myself for them.
I came close to losing so much. I won’t fall into that trap again.
Graziani, on the other hand, has already lost everything.
If I were him, I’d be the one looking for justice.
I sure as hell wouldn’t be bringing in a couple of hired guns to do the job for me.
My spine stiffens when he passes us.
“Come on,” Tommy mumbles, shoving me in their direction, through the mobs of mourners.
I follow the group of suits around a corner and down a darkened hallway. The one in the front opens a door and waves his hand toward the inside of the room. I step through the door frame with Tommy on my heels.
Graziani doesn’t sit. Neither does anyone else.
He holds out a hand, and I stare at it until Tommy elbows me in the back. I give it a quick pump and drop it before sinking into a leather sofa.
Graziani lifts an eyebrow. “Sure, make yourself comfortable.”
“Look,” I say, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “My brother and I have come here to help you because of your relationship with Alek. So instead of wasting time with dick measuring, why don’t you take a seat and tell us what we need to know so you can get back out to your wife?”
A quick glimpse confirms Tommy is damn-close to having a conniption, and I swallow a snicker.
I love busting his balls. It’s the one thing that can bring me some much-needed comic relief. I’ll pay for it later, but I’m gonna enjoy it while I can.
My comment immediately erases the expression of bravado right off Graziani’s face and he looks up at his guys. “Get back out there. Keep an eye on things.”
One of the guys, I guess his second-in-command, furrows his brow. “You sure, Boss?”
Graziani nods.
Once they’re all gone, Graziani collapses into a chair opposite me and covers his face with his hands. His shoulders quake and for a second, it looks like this big bad boss is about to lose his shit in front of me and Tommy.
“I never meant for this to happen,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “I gave him a job as a favor to my wife. I never thought he’d turn on us.”
“Who’s he?” I ask, knowing full well who it is.
“My brother-in-law, Enzo Tallerico.” Graziani looks at me, his eyes red-rimmed. He lo
oks human right now.
Full of remorse, regret, and guilt.
I know the feelings well.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” I say. “Alek didn’t give us much to go on. He said you’d explain everything when we got here. So why don’t you start by telling us who and what we’re dealing with?”
Graziani stands up and paces the room. “Enzo was in charge of finances for my family’s music charity and he’d been laundering money through it.” He slams a fist against the wall. “But it wasn’t our money he was funneling.”
“Whose was it?” Tommy asks.
“Nic Fortunato’s.”
Fuuuuck.
Enemy Number One.
Nic Fortunato, as in the most notorious sex trafficker in Europe and Latin America. And the only reason why he holds that title is because Alek killed his biggest competition, Sofia Rojas, a few years ago in Monaco and pretty much decimated her empire.
And Nic worked hard to maintain his position. His plan to eliminate anyone who dared interfere with his business claimed the lives of a lot of people, some who were very close to my family.
We are guilty by association.
My family has been on Fortunato’s shit list ever since.
Nic somehow managed to escape our last standoff after he’d kidnapped Diego’s girlfriend Serena and killed her father, two of his biggest opponents to the sex trade. He went dark and nobody has seen or heard from him since.
I knew he’d surface at some point, though.
And I can guarantee that Tommy and I won’t get the red carpet treatment when Fortunato finds out we’re the hired guns who are going to be serving up some steaming hot revenge slayings.
I scrub a hand down the front of my face and exchange a look with Tommy.
Did I say guilty by association? What I really meant was fucked by association.
“What else do we need to know?” I ask Graziani.
“They took my daughter from my house a little over a week ago. My baby girl,” he replies, his voice cracking. “But Nic wasn’t with them. I’d never seen his guys before that night. Except one…his son. Elia.” He shakes his head. “He’s a sadistic bastard. A real fucking psychopath who inflicts a brand of torture that I’ve never seen in my life. And trust me, I’ve witnessed plenty. If he still has her, if he’s the one holding her captive…” His voice trails off and a shiver visibly runs through him.
Coveted: Men of Mayhem: Book Two Page 9
