The Cardinal (The Holy Trinity Duet Book 2)

by M. E. Clayton

  “Even their wives?”

  “Remy and Robbie love Ciro and Luca just as much as I do, probably more, really,” she granted. “But while they would die for their husbands, I don’t know that they’re capable of fighting for them the way I would.” She wrinkled her nose. “Does that make sense?”

  It did. No matter how long any of our marriages lasted, Remy, Robbie, Sienna, and Blake were always going to be tourists in this world. Their children will not be, but they will. Frankie wasn’t a tourist. She was the real deal and that’s why Luca had assigned Frankie to handle Caitlin Tuner instead of Remy. Remy, Robbie, and Sienna had what it took to stand by their men; Frankie had what it took to stand in front of those men.

  “It makes perfect sense,” I assured her. “And for the record, I was never trustworthy, Frankie. Leo has always been, but with the likes of Gio at the helm, I had learned to look out for myself early on.”

  “And now?”

  “Luca’s not Gio.”

  Frankie smiled. “No. No, he’s not.”

  Just then, my phone chimed with an incoming text.

  CM: Got them. Ready when u r

  Me: B there soon

  I slid my phone back in my jacket. “I have to go.”

  “What do I need to know?”

  “I’m hoping to be back before she wakes up in the morning, but if not, she asked for her mother,” I told her. “Help her shower and all that jazz, then send for her mother, please.”

  “No problem. Anything else?”

  I shook my head. “Like I said, hopefully, I’m back before morning.”

  “Going to keep them for a few days?”

  I smirked. “A few.”

  “Some career advice?” she said, a sly grin on her pretty face.

  “Sure.”

  “It’s easy to be a martyr.” She shrugged. “Alonso and Micha knew the odds of them surviving this were slim and they weighed that against their revenge and found it was worth it. They were and are willing to die for their cause. They’re mentally prepared for that inevitability.”

  “Yeah?”

  “But are they prepared for a loved one to pay the price for their sins?”

  Shock.

  Straight up shock had me staring at Frankie like she just sprung horns. “Pardon?”

  “If you actually kill them, that’s up to you, but what a wonderful psychological mindfuck would it be to make Alonso and Micha think you were going to kill someone close to them?”

  I seriously wondered if Phoenix had any idea who he was married to. “I think that’s a grand idea, Frankie.”

  She smiled into her glass of wine. “I thought so.”

  “I’ll have your husband pull checks on the families and see what we can dig up.”

  “Good. Now, go.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “As much as I want to meet Blake formally, I still think it’s best if you’re back before she wakes up.”

  I stood up, kissed the beautiful demon on the top of her head, and left my condo, making my way to The Funhouse. The sooner I got there, the soon we could secure those assholes, and everyone could go home and regroup.

  The entire drive over, I thought about Frankie’s suggestion, and the more I thought about it, the more merit it seemed to have.

  Chapter 22

  Blake~

  You’d think getting kidnapped, then beaten, then interrogated by Luca goddamn Benetti would be the worst of it, but it wasn’t.

  Not by a long shot.

  When I woke up this morning, my body had felt like it’d been through the ringer. It was unlike anything I’ve ever endured before. When Sal helped me to the shower this morning, the mirror in the bathroom had magnified my bruises to the point that it’d been hard to look at myself.

  After Sal had helped me shower and get dressed, we’d eaten breakfast, talked a little, and had stalled long enough before I finally put the call into my mother. I had wanted to talk over the phone like a coward, but Sal had insisted she needed to see the fallout from what Caitlin had done. He said it was the only way she’d be able to grasp the magnitude of just how far down Caitlin had fallen.

  So, perched on the couch, my blonde hair thrown up in a bun, no makeup to camouflage the hideousness of last night, I waited for my mother. When the decision had been made to bring her here, I had called her, asked her to clear her morning, and told her a car would be picking her up. Of course, she had asked questions, upon questions, upon questions, I mean, that’s what mothers did, but I had managed to calm her down. I had also promised to answer all her questions when she got here.

  When she arrived, Sal was notified, and he’d gone downstairs to greet and escort her to his condo. From what I understood from our talk this morning, only Benetti men lived in this building. It was only five stories high with Sal occupying the top floor. His guard, Carlo, lived on the fourth floor, along with someone named, Marcelo. The third and second floors were occupied by Benetti Capos, while the bottom floor was a lobby.

  I heard the front door open and closed, then footprints echoing throughout the house. My eyes were already beginning to water and I quickly blinked the emotion away. This was going to be hard enough without making my mother feel worse by crying.

  “Blake?” I turned my head towards her voice, and the second she saw my face, she gasped and rushed over. “Oh, my God,” she cried. “Oh, God…Blake.”

  “Mom-”

  She sat down next to me, her hands immediately reaching for mine. “Oh, God, what happened to you?”

  “Mom-”

  Her blue eyes narrowed. “Is…is he responsible for this?” she asked accusingly. “Why…what are you doing here, Blake? What…since when do you associate with…with the Benettis?”

  “So…so, you know who he is?”

  “Of course, I know who he is,” she snapped. “And it wasn’t that hard to deduce when that black SUV arrived to pick me up, Blake.”

  “Mom-”

  “Tell me what is going on,” she pleaded. “I’m imagining the worst, honey.”

  I blinked back the tears again. “I hate to say it’s much worse than whatever you’re imagining, Mom,” I whispered brokenly.

  “Tell me, Blake,” she demanded. “And no matter how bad it is, we will figure it out, okay? Together, we will figure it out.”

  I took a deep, painful breath and told her everything. I started from the very first time I had ever bailed Caitlin out of a jam, and I didn’t stop until I covered my shower this morning. With each retelling of Caitlin’s antics, Mom cried more, and more. They were silent tears that streamed down her cheeks, with heartbreak reaching every inch of her face.

  Silence ruled the room for a few sorrowful moments, both of us coming to terms with what we knew about the one other person we loved most in the world. But no matter how torn up I was about Caitlin’s choices, I wasn’t a mother who’d be torn between two daughters. Now, while I’d never make my mother choose between me and Caitlin, by choosing Sal, I knew my relationship with my mother was going to suffer if Mom remained close with Caitlin.

  Then Mom asked the one question I didn’t know the answer to. “Are…are they going to…are they going to kill her, Blake?”

  “I don’t know, Mom,” I told her honestly. “I’ve…I’ve been afraid to ask. I…I’m afraid to ask because I don’t know how to stop them if…because I don’t know what to do, Mom.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long time. Or, at least, it felt like a long time. But what was there to say, really? If Sal killed Caitlin, no matter the reason, how could I stay with my sister’s killer? And how could my mother forgive me for doing so? How could I forgive myself for doing so?

  Mom reached out and squeezed my leg. It hurt because she hit a bruise, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make her feel bad. “Why don’t we ask him together?”

  “You’re not scared of the answer?”

  Mom gave me a small, tired, sad smile. “I’m terrified of it,” she admitted. “But we’r
e not cowards, Blake. And…I need to take responsibility for not paying closer attention.”

  “And I need to take responsibility for enabling her,” I muttered.

  “We do this together, Blake,” she said, and I knew, in that moment, there was no way I’d be able to choose Sal over Caitlin and still live with myself. Even though my sister didn’t deserve it after what she did to me, my mother deserved it. My mother deserved a chance to keep her family together and that would never happen if I chose the man who killed her daughter.

  “We do this together,” I echoed.

  “Shall I go get him…?”

  I shook my head and reached for my phone on the table. I sent Sal a text asking him if he could join us and I kept having to repeat my mother’s words over, and over, and over again in my head.

  We’re not cowards.

  The sound of his expensive shoes tapping on the tile broke up the silence, and when they hit the carpet and silence reigned again, I was sure the thrashing of my heart against my chest could be heard throughout the room.

  When Sal entered the room, he went to stand next to the fireplace and he looked like a king entertaining his court. He looked like royalty granting commoners some of his precious time.

  He looked magnificent.

  “How may I help you, ladies?”

  My mother’s back straightened and I knew it was a mother’s love that had her facing down one of the most powerful men around. “Now that there are no more secrets, I’d like to know what you intend to do with my daughter.”

  A raven brow arched high. “I plan on marrying her,” he replied smoothly. “As soon as her injuries heal.”

  “Blake is not the daughter I was referring to,” Mom fired back crisply.

  “I didn’t think you were,” Sal returned. “But I wanted to clarify my intentions towards Blake before we went any further.”

  “You’re saying Blake doesn’t have a choice?”

  “Correct, Mrs. Logan,” he replied, making me close my eyes and sigh. “Blake is mine. Nothing will change that.”

  “You’d really force her to marry you after killing her sister?” Mom asked incredulously.

  Sal cocked his head. “Who said I was killing her sister?”

  “You…you’re not?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “But…but what…what about Francesca handling…things?” I asked.

  “She will,” he replied. “But Francesca is a mother hen, and you became one of her chickadees the second that I claimed you for my own. She’ll do her best to handle things without hurting you, Blake.”

  Tears started pouring down my face and I didn’t even try to pull myself together. I felt my mother’s arms wrap around me, and though painful, I let her hold me, hug me tight. I hugged her back with all the relief I felt in the world.

  “Oh, honey,” she murmured against my hair. “Oh, sweetie.”

  “Mom, I just…”

  “Shh, sweet girl. We’re going to be fine,” she promised.

  I pulled back and looked at her. “Even…e…even if I marry…”

  “A mobster?” she supplied. “A criminal warlord? A ruthless killer?”

  “Jesus, Mom,” I choked out. “He’s standing right there.” I glanced over towards Sal and the jerk had a smirk on his face.

  “Am I lying?” Mom fired back.

  I shook my head. “No, Mom. No, you’re not.”

  Chapter 23

  Salvatore~

  After assuring Blake and her mother that there were no immediate plans to kill Caitlin Turner, I had spent the next couple of hours getting to know my soon-to-be-mother-in-law and I could see where Blake had gotten her spunk from. Though it was clear the woman was intimidated by the entire situation, she had held her own. And by the time Carlo had driven her back home, two things were crystal clear: she loved her daughters very much and she hated that Blake was going to marry me.

  However, she chose to respect Blake’s choices rather than fight a fight she knew she couldn’t win. Blake was mine and no one was going to take her from me, and that included her mother. It was clear we were going to remain in a civil standoff, but as long as Blake was safe and happy, we’d deal. Neither of us had a choice.

  The rest of the day had been handling shit that I’d been neglecting since Friday night. After I had caught up on a few things, I’d had dinner with my girl-like a real couple-ate her pussy until she had passed out since we couldn’t have sex, and after showering and all that jazz, I had left Blake asleep in our bed. And because honesty was the cornerstone off all relationships, I had told Blake the truth of my plans tonight and I hadn’t made any promises about being home for breakfast.

  Making my way down the stairs, Ciro’s voice was the first to hit my ears. “About time, fucker,” he grumbled. “How are you going to be late to a party you put on?”

  I laughed. Ciro was such a cheeky bastard. “Chomping at the bit, are we?”

  He grinned. “I got a new toy,” he replied. “Who better to try it on than these two fucks?”

  I looked over and Alonso and Micha were both tied to stainless-steel chairs that sat bolted over a drain. Both were secured firmly in their seats, gags in their mouths. While Ciro and I loved to hear the screams of our victims, Luca had no patience for the crying and whining, so he often shoved a rag in their mouths until the show began.

  Phoenix handed me three folders. “I found everything you asked for.”

  I took them and smiled. “Thanks, Phoenix.”

  Walking over to where Alonso and Micha sat, I kicked off tonight’s performance. I opened the first folder. “Marcelino Rubio,” I stared. “Fifty, six-foot-no-inches, brown hair, brown eyes, soft around it the middle, and works as an insurance salesman. Been married twenty-seven years and has two children with his wife, Patricia.” Alonso started thrashing about, but he was secured tightly, and the chair was bolted to the floor. The fool wasn’t going anywhere. “By all accounts, a good law-abiding citizen just living his best life.” My eyes met his. “Innocent. Innocent, like a cocktail waitress who was just trying to earn some honest money, even in a less-than-respectful establishment.”

  Alonso started yelling behind the cloth stuffed in his mouth causing Luca to say, “And that is why I gag them. What a fucking headache, otherwise.”

  I shut the folder, slid it under the stack in my hands, and opened the second file. “Armando Regio,” I continued, and this time, Micha started with the theatrics. “Thirty-four, six-foot-one, brown hair, brown eyes, in decent shape, and works at the auto plant one town over.” As I read the file, Armando seemed like an okay human being. “Even goes to church every Sunday,” I added. “No wife or children, so no one will miss him.” Micha started to thrash about, much like Alonso had.

  “Nix, help me with this.”

  I turned and saw Ciro pulled out some strange looking contraption. “What the hell is that? It looks like something you’d make pancakes with.”

  “It’s a head crusher,” he answered as Phoenix helped set it next to his tray of torture. “I procured it from a private auction.” I shook my head. The only chance poor, little Mattia Mancini had in this world is if her mother’s influence outshines her father’s.

  I turned back towards Micha, pulling out the third and final folder. “Margarita Regio.” At the name of his sister, Micha’s face was turning red with the exertion of trying to be heard. “Thirty-one, five-foot-five, brown hair, brown eyes, petite, and works as a dental hygienist. Not married but she is dating a nice guy who works as a labor contractor for construction sites.” I cocked my head and eyed the bastard. “Now, being the nice, sweet, devoted Catholic boy that I am, and eye for an eye would suggest Margarita be my first choice for revenge, no?” Just then, the chime of an incoming text sounded in the room. Looking back, Phoenix was pulling his phone from his pocket.

  After reading it, he looked up and said, “Caitlin Turner has been found.” He looked over at me. “Let us get ours in, so we can go get her and de
liver her to Frankie.”

  I looked between both men sitting in the chairs. “We have rules, gentlemen,” I told them. “And one of those rules is that we all get quality time with those who betray a blood Benetti. And since I’m a blood Benetti and the girl you took belongs to me, well, you can do the math.” I reached out to pat Alonso on the head. “And since The Holy Ghost has shit to do, he can go first.”

  “About fucking time,” Phoenix grumbled, and I chuckled. Phoenix grabbed the sledgehammer, walked over with it twirling in his hands, and with four solid whacks, shattered all four kneecaps. Walking back, he handed it to Ciro and headed out. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  I looked over at Luca. “Big brother?”

  Luca picked up a scalpel and walked over to Alonso first. “Sal.” I held Alonso’s head as steadily as I could as Luca sliced off his eyelids. After repeating the process with Micha, and as Ciro came over to stop the bleeding, Luca stepped back. “Now, closing their eyes is no longer an option when you finally get their family on the slab,” he remarked casually.

  “Great idea,” I commented.

  Luca dropped on his haunches in front of both men, both men having no choice but to look at him now. “While I would love to spend more time with you for daring to touch my sister-in-law, I have a Rubio brother, a Regio brother, and a Regio sister to go pick up. But don’t worry, The Son will make sure to keep you gentlemen alive long enough to see the consequences of your actions play out. See, Sal can get carried away sometimes and we can’t have him killing you before the grand finale.” As he straightened, the cries behind the rags got louder.

  “I think it’s time to get out the Scold’s Bridle,” Ciro suggested.

  “I’m leaving, so you guys can remove the rags and give yourselves a headache if you choose.” With that, Luca left us alone with Alonso and Micha.

  “You’re next,” I told Ciro, knowing all the leftovers belonged to me.

  “Do you want to hear their screams?”

  Now, normally, I would, but I was afraid if either one of them so much as uttered Blake’s name, rage would take over, making this short and sweet instead of slow and torturous.