Santino’s head hits the wall on the opposite side, his forehead pressed against the drywall as he rides out his climax. He groans deeply, his eyes clenched tightly. “So good,” he comments. Picking his head back up after a beat, he peers into Annabella’s dazed gaze, appearing sated. “Pretty face and a pretty pussy.”
She rolls her eyes, a smile growing as she’s no longer feeling threatened by the bastardo. I can understand her trepidation. We’re a large bunch—tall, muscular…powerful.
“I’ll have my wife now, brother,” I say.
He pulls free from her, fixing his pants. He doesn’t bother to straighten Annabella’s dress back in place, and it has a new scowl taking over. I shove him aside, shifting in front of her to fix her clothes. She’s perfectly capable of doing it herself, but she shouldn’t have to. I grab her hand and nod to my brothers as they stride in the opposite direction.
“Are you okay? Hurting?” I ask, concern taking over.
“No, I’m all right. Are you mad though?” She walks beside me, clutching my palm as if it’s her lifeline.
“I have no right to be angry. This is famiglia business. It is what it is. I should be the one worried. You’re taking this better than I expected, easier than any of the other wives have in the past.” I lead her into our shared bathroom, wetting a cloth to wipe away my brother’s scent. I push her butt against the counter and wring out the washcloth. I bring it to her throat first, carefully wiping her flushed flesh.
“I consented to this marriage. I also agreed to be good to Rosa and be a strong wife for you. I figure it’s the least I can do, since you didn’t want to marry me.”
I pull back, staring down at her, stunned with what she’s just admitted. My fingers find her chin, tipping her face up to meet my eyes. “You think I don’t want you?” I ask. I know I said some messed-up stuff to her, but that was before…when I was trying to save her from this life. Of course, I wanted to marry her. I wanted her from the very moment I saw her.
“It’s okay, it’ll take time. I know that,” she mutters, glancing off to the side.
“You were Rosa’s nanny. I was trying to show you the respect you deserve, and give you space.”
“You said—”
I interrupt, “I know what I said, and I was only trying to push you away to keep you safe. I wanted to keep you from the consummation tradition, along with our many enemies.”
“Wait, so you did want me before?”
I decide to be truthful with her and bob my head. “From the moment you stepped out of your father’s car. You were something untouchable, someone I couldn’t have. My daughter’s nanny… It only made me want you more. I’m the cliché that wanted to fuck his nanny every which way to Sunday.”
She giggles and it’s adorable. “Well, now I’m not only the nanny, so what are you going to do about it?”
Wrapping my arms around her, I lift her, carrying her towards the bed. “I’m going to make sure that when Cristiano has you, you’re only thinking of me,” I promise, laying her on the bed before me.
“Too late,” she admits softly. Her words hit me full force, and I fall forward, covering her body with mine. My lips caress the tender flesh on her throat as she whispers, “I only see you.”
Watch who you trust, even your teeth
bite your tongue every now and then.
- Unknown
“You’re sure it was the O’Toole daughter, the woman I’m looking for. Not someone else?” I question the made man helping me with my newest mission. I have to be one hundred percent on task with this. My famiglia is counting on me. The Irish have been moving in a little too close lately, threatening my famiglia’s safety, and I won’t stand for it. I have to protect Rosa. She’s everything to me. I have Annabella counting on me as well now, and I don’t plan on allowing any type of harm to come to either of them.
“It was her,” Amedeo assures me. “There’s no mistaking that crazy puttana. You’ll understand when you see her.”
“Capo’s putting trust in me to handle this. I won’t fuck it up.” I’ve fucked up my entire life, letting everyone down around me while my brothers handled mafia business like men should. I won’t allow Matteo to bear the brunt of the Empire any longer. I’m ready to be the mafioso I was born to be.
“Si.” He bobs his head. “They’ve been keeping her hidden away this past week, but she eventually surfaced. I called you as soon as I saw her, as you ordered. She’s still inside that building.”
“Good. It’s about time something happened.” I adjust the passenger seat, making room for my long legs. I’d jumped in my car as soon as I heard O’Toole was on the move and parked a few blocks back. It’s better if we watch the spot from Amedeo’s vehicle and not from my luxury sports car. It would easily draw unwanted attention to us. I shouldn’t be driving the thing in this weather anyhow, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a sucker for a nice car over an SUV any day, random flurries be damned.
“If she leaves, we need to follow. I don’t want to lose sight of her, she keeps slipping away somehow,” I order, attempting to stay focused.
“The moment an opportunity presents itself to take her, she’s ours. I brought some tranquilizers. You want her completely knocked out, or restrained and aware?”
“I’ve heard she’s a handful, so knock her out. The last thing I want to deal with is screaming or getting stabbed by some unhinged Irish cunt.”
We must sit in silence for at least two hours, bored out of our minds. We can’t check social media or anything on our phones in case we miss something here. Not that I dabble much online anyway. It’s full of half-truths and witch hunts. I’m not friends with Empire soldati, so we don’t chat up our time either; just sit in place with our concentration set on O’Toole’s building.
“There she goes. To the right, long black coat and matching hat.”
My gaze lands on the woman he’s pointing out. It’s hard to imagine she’s as elusive and dangerous as Valentino claims.
“Are we following on foot or driving? I need closer in order to drug her.”
“Just wait a second. I want to see what she does. If she hops in a car, then we’ll move. If she’s going somewhere close-by, I don’t want her or anyone else who may be looking out to notice us.”
He drinks from his Styrofoam cup of coffee, watching the woman walk away. He places the cup in the holder and confesses, “I was surprised you were put on the O’Toole problem. It’s usually Santino or Luciano having me handle this sort of job with them. I mean no disrespect. You’re good at this, it seems. Much more patient than Five and Six.”
I take his statement for what it is: a compliment. It’s common amongst the famiglia and our men to call us by number. It’s how we’re introduced most of the time. Helps people understand exactly who they’re dealing with and the amount of power we hold. For instance, you may be able to get away with a bit more when it comes to Cristiano, but the same won’t fly with Valentino, and so on. If we’re hunting you down, you definitely don’t want One coming after you because you’re going to die; there’s no doubt about it. If Santino or Luciano are kicking down your door, then there’s still a sliver of hope you’ll continue breathing once they’re finished with you.
“Five and Six have their set of skills,” I murmur, aware I’m not someone who should judge any of my brothers as I’ve had my fair share of issues in the past, more so than any of the others. “They’re decent soldati, good at following orders, whereas I’m not and never have been. I have a tendency for fucking things up, doing what I think works, and sometimes it gets the heat put on me. Not a good made man to have around a lot if I’m being questioned or booked each time I go off the handle.”
“Understandable. I don’t question Capo’s decisions and motives.”
I tilt my head, never taking my eyes from the woman. “I know the men talk. I’m a drunk, a rogue that’s a liability.”
“We don’t say that—” he begins, but I cut him off, keeping him distra
cted from what I’m seeing right now. I watch O’Toole lean her head into an open SUV window…the same vehicle that just so happens to belong to one of my brothers.
What would Matteo think if he were here now, witnessing this? What in the hell am I supposed to do? If this soldato notices, I’m going to have to kill him to keep this from getting out to anyone else. Killing a made man is not something I was planning on having to do today, nor do I want to, but I will if I must.
“It’s fine. The rumors and whispers used to be the truth. At least some of them were. I’m clean and sober and have been for a while. I can finally concentrate on what’s important. The Empire is my home, my life. It’s time I embrace being the made man I was created to be.”
“You don’t have to tell me any of this. You’re a Vendetti—the second. I respect you and your famiglia, I’ve pledged my loyalties to the Empire and the Capo.”
My brother’s car pulls out and speeds away. O’Toole’s gaze darts around. I have a sinking suspicion my brother just dropped a bombshell, sharing that we’re coming for her. I can’t believe he was here, out in the open for anyone to witness. This could get back to Matteo. There will be hell to pay, I have no doubt.
The O’Toole woman takes off in a jog across the busy, wide street. I point ahead, adamantly ordering the soldato, “Go! She’s getting away.”
Stunned, he looks up from his coffee cup and punches the gas without another thought. The tires squeal, alerting the woman and anyone else who may be paying attention to our location. She meets my stare through the windshield, and then turns, sprinting in the opposite direction.
“Cazzo,” I cuss aloud, my body on edge more so than a moment ago. The SUV bounces over the curb, crossing the sidewalk towards the parklike area O’Toole took off towards. We catch up to her quickly, as she’s on foot and Amedeo is racing around like a madman. “Don’t let her get away!” I demand with a brash yell.
He jerks, twisting the wheel. There’s a thunk as her body hits the side of the vehicle. My hands clench the buttery-soft obsidian leather seat next to my thighs. I swear for an entirely different reason, as I struggle not to reach over and bash Amedeo’s head against the dash for being so reckless. Matteo wants her alive, and I’m desperate not to fuck this all up. We can’t bring her in broken and bloody from being run over. My brother would be absolutely furious if he couldn’t question her.
“Careful!” I hiss and leap from the dark SUV before he has a chance to throw it into park and get out as well.
The woman lies on the ground, groaning, attempting to move. “Let me help you,” I offer, my tone full of concern for Matteo’s wrath, not because of her injuries. She’s threatened and attempted to harm my famiglia, I couldn’t care less if she’s hurt or dies, but she has to meet the Capo first. I move my arms under her body. She’s dazed and nearly compliant, being that I’m her kidnapper and all. She must’ve hit the ground hard because the SUV didn’t bump her head. It looked to me like it was more towards her hip, or arm maybe. Everything happened so quickly, I know I missed the finer details.
I manage to get her loaded into the back seat without any assistance, completely disregarding the tranquilizer. She’s injured and not all there. Besides, I want to get out of sight before the cops have a chance to show up. It’s too busy in this part of the city. I know someone saw something and will be reporting it. Nosey fucking do-gooders.
“We’ve got to get out of here now.”
“Are we taking her back to the estate?” Amedeo asks, putting the vehicle in drive. He steers it towards the road, jostling me as we head back over the curb. I stare out the window, my gaze pinned on the mirror for any approaching police.
“Just drive in the same direction. I’ll see what Capo wants us to do with her.” Once we’re off the street and hopefully in the clear, I pull my phone free. I text Matteo, letting him know we’ve gotten the Irish bitch who stabbed Valentino and escaped him. I conveniently leave out the part about her being hit with the vehicle. I can let the Capo know later, once he’s in a better mood about us capturing her.
I shoot off another text, this time to Cristiano, asking him to get someone to pick up my Ferrari Monza SP2. Thieves will be salivating at the possibility of a 1.8 million dollar score, and even more so at the prospect of thinking they’d be fucking over a Vendetti. The car is mere chump change to us, but it’d still make me look bad to my brothers, and that’s the last thing I need right now. I’m attempting to erase that image they have of me burned into their minds and replace it with one worthy of them calling me their fratello.
I have Rosa and Annabella to think of now, not only myself. I must be strong. If not for me and my brothers, then for the two signorinas in my life now. I won’t allow them to grow ashamed of me as my famiglia has rightfully been in the past.
Matteo responds immediately, ordering us to take the woman to one of the cabins on our property. It’s not too far from the Vendetti Estate on foot—about ten miles or so. Not that we’ll be walking it; we have numerous dirt roads leading where we need them to. The old log cabin is a spot where the bulk of our torture and kidnapping is carried out when we’re not in the city handling business. Very few people know of its location—my brothers and a few of the most trusted guards, like Severo.
We have several hidden buildings and such on the property, but that’s to be expected as our family owns around five thousand acres in this area alone. Romano, along with our grandfather, carried out their own wicked deeds at the cabins. They’ve passed many things down to us—the curse, amongst others—and none of them have been anything to be proud about.
“We’re headed to a cabin near the estate. I’ll show you where to go.” I shift in the seat, unable to get comfortable. I can’t stop thinking about my brother’s vehicle showing up and then speeding off. It doesn’t sit well with me, and to think of how Matteo will take it twists me up even more inside. This won’t be good, no matter what the reasoning is behind it, and I hate to be the one to break the news.
Amedeo nods, driving along the road for a ways, following my directions. We’ve just gotten on the property when the back door of the vehicle is thrown open. The cool air bursts inside as does the sound of the tires crunching over fresh snow. O’Toole goes tumbling outside, falling into the snow, and rolling. Even if she managed to escape us now, we’re far enough out she’d freeze to death before she made it.
“Cazzo,” I swear again. I seem to be doing that a lot today. Amadeo slams on the brakes and the SUV slides a few feet. “Let me get this temperamental woman,” I mutter and hop out. I’m not in the mood to fucking run in the snow today, especially not in a new pair of leather shoes and trousers. This would be the perfect time to send Amedeo to fetch her, but I can’t allow any more mistakes to take place, so I’ll do it all myself.
Her fiery green gaze catches mine for a brief moment as she looks back to see if we’re after her. I take off in a sprint as she’s watching. The thought of being chased strikes fear in a lot of people and provokes them to think irrationally. I know well enough myself from all the stupid stuff I did attempting to avoid my responsibilities. Fear and resentment pushed me to drink, to lose myself and not pay attention to the world around me.
“You can’t outrun me,” I taunt and laugh. My mocking sparks her to look back again and she losses her footing, She goes down hard, and I’m on her before she can react. “Now I’m all wet from this wretched snow. See what you’ve done to our clothes?” I huff angrily, weighing her down so she can’t attempt to run again.
Her body trembles badly, and I draw back, wanting to see her better. Her face is covered by her wild, reddish hair. I’ve never seen anything like it up close, this color that’s neither all red nor all brown. It’s not auburn either—too light for that. I don’t know how to properly explain it, only that it screams Irish in my mind. I push it to the side to find her laughing so hard she’s shaking. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” I grumble, irritated she finds this entertaining and is wasting
my time.
“You’re thick as a brick, aren’t you, you fecking arse?” she says, then slams her forehead into my nose. She rocks my world, and not in a good way. The move stuns me enough I jerk back, but not fast enough as she chops me in the throat. The fucking cunt karate chopped my Adam’s apple sideways.
I’m bent off to the side, one hand holding my throat as I choke. The other’s on the ground, attempting to hold me still as my nose and head scream from the headbutt. I’m so furious I can’t think straight to save my life, and blood is pouring down my lips and chin, coloring the snow. No wonder Valentino got knifed. This bitch is utterly mad. I’ve delt with men plenty bigger and tougher than her, and even they didn’t get this much of a drop on me before. With a roar, I shove myself up, ready to shoot her. I don’t care if Matteo wants her kept alive; she obviously has a death wish injuring two Vendetti’s. We’re the fucking mob, for Christ’s sake!
Yanking my gun from my holster, I spin around. Amadeo tackles her again, only he shoves the syringe in her the moment he makes contact. She quickly passes out as he holds her still. Thank fuck. “I don’t care who it is or what happens, the next time we snatch someone, we’re drugging them.”
He lets out a chuckle, agreeing. “I didn’t see any of this mess happening today. She kept it interesting.” He stands, grabbing O’Toole by the ankle to drag her back to the SUV. She’s getting off easy with all the snow to help cushion her. At least I know she’ll have a pounding headache when she wakes from the drugs. It’s the least I can get for payback after she fucked me up. My brothers will never let me hear the end of this if they find out what happened.
“Or something,” I mutter, thinking I prefer the less interesting types.
Days pass without much of a fuss. Matteo was grateful I caught the culprit and brought her in like he’d requested. The downfall with her is I’ve been stuck playing babysitter. Amedeo, Luciano, and I have been holed up, taking turns in this damn cabin keeping watch over the Irish hellion. I haven’t told Matteo about our brother showing up, nor anyone else, for that matter. My famiglia means everything to me; it does to all of us. I think that’s why I’m so torn up about it. I have this ingrained need to protect all of my brothers, but also the consistent need to be loyal to Matteo and alert him to anything that could potentially harm our famiglia.
The Vendetti Coward: Salvatore Vendetti (The Vendetti Famiglia Book 4) Page 12
