Taken: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Vanessa Waltz

  “He killed six people last night. Legion guys. Drive-by shooting.”

  “I don’t care!” Maybe it was sick that I didn’t, but it was the truth. Michael would have to do a lot worse than kill a bunch of gangsters to turn me against him.

  “You would if you were yourself.” He paced the room, color returning to his cheeks. “We have to leave. I’ve got to find Costa. I need to put an end to this, especially now.”

  No. “Nick—”

  “Enough!” he roared, whirling on me with raised fists. “We’re having a goddamn kid together. Stop pining for a man who won’t live out the weekend. Once he’s dead, you’ll be free. And then we’ll marry.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed me toward the door, but I dug in my heels.

  “Michael's not dying, and I’ll never marry you!”

  “Then I’ll sue you for full custody and bribe the judge. I’ll make him give me the brat. You’ll never see our baby again.”

  It’s not yours!

  “Wear your jacket. Let’s go.”

  Nick’s steel-like presence vanished, and then he thrust the leather into my arms.

  I flung it to the floor.

  Nick’s eyes followed. His hand whirled, smashing into my face. The blow slammed me into his nightstand. My skull cracked the wood. Something heavy wobbled on it.

  His gun.

  I grabbed it and fired.

  A picture frame exploded beside Nick’s head. He flinched as I aimed at his chest. Boots stomped in the hall. Voices outside shouted. They smashed through distant doors.

  Nick stared at me, wide-eyed. “What the hell?”

  “Hands up! I’ll kill you.”

  “You wouldn’t murder the father of your child.”

  You’re not. “I have to get away from you.”

  “Kill me,” he sneered. “They’ll rape you. Every one of them.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “All right. Calm down.” Nick’s tone was soft, beseeching. “Take a deep breath and look at where you are.”

  “I have to leave.”

  “You’ll hurt the baby.”

  The door burst to a man with a shotgun.

  “Axel, no. Back the fuck off!” Nick gripped the barrel, shoving himself in the line of fire. “Carmela, put the fucking Sig down.”

  “No.”

  Nick roared at the biker. “Back off!”

  The man retreated. Nick wheeled at me, his lips thinning. Shock flickered across his gaze. “Are you kidding me with this gunslinger shit? Is this because I’m the dad?”

  “I told you not to hit me.”

  “You whip out a gun because I slapped you?”

  “Yes.”

  Nick swallowed hard. “Carmela, this isn't a game. You'll die. Lower the piece.”

  “At least I’ll be free.” I gestured toward the hall. “Move.”

  He backed into the darkness, laughing. “What is your plan? You’ll attack the whole clubhouse?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  A high, cold laugh boomed down the corridors. He stepped forward, eyes filled with mirth.

  “I swear to God, Nick.”

  “Beauty, you’re surrounded. There is no way you’re getting out of here.” Nick glowered at the men inching closer. “Anybody shoots at my pregnant old lady will have their balls blowtorched. Leave us the fuck alone!”

  They lowered their weapons, and I walked Nick to the door as he grinned at me. He looked like I’d grabbed his dick. He enjoyed torture, but there was one thing he loved more.

  The chase.

  We strolled the porch, heading to the row of motorcycles.

  “Want these?” Nick pulled the keys from his shirt pocket, dangling them. “Put down the gun.”

  “No.”

  “You’ll have to kill me to steal my Harley.”

  “Are you willing to test me?”

  “Maybe I’ll let you have a ten-minute lead.”

  “Follow me, and I won't hesitate to murder you.”

  He laughed, the air misting with his breath. “I missed this side of you, Beauty.”

  “Keys.”

  He stopped near the Dyna Super Glide. “You don’t know how to ride.”

  “Give them, or I’ll shoot you.”

  He tossed the ring. It landed a foot away. “Bend over, and they’re yours.”

  I squatted and groped until my fingers latched onto metal. My hands shook as I opened the disk and slid the key inside.

  “You’ll never be able to move it from the driveway,” Nick scoffed, his smile widening. “You can’t even shift gears.”

  “Yes, I fucking can. It’s a simple concept. I’ll figure it out.”

  The panel lit up. I hopped on and grabbed the clutch, mashing the buttons. My control over the situation slipped into doubt as it failed to start.

  Nick watched, arms folded. “Want me to show you how it’s done?”

  I fired. The dirt beside his boot exploded. “That was your last warning.”

  “How many rounds are in that clip?”

  “Enough to kill you.”

  “Yeah, but what about them?” Nick gestured to the ranch house. “You fuck me. They fuck you.”

  “I’m leaving!”

  “Baby, you won’t make it five miles. Put it down. I won’t hurt you.”

  I twisted the left handle and pressed a button on the right. The seat vibrated as his Harley rumbled.

  Yes.

  “Carmela, don’t be an idiot. You’ll end up a stain on the road!” Nick stepped forward, the barrel sinking into his stomach. “You’re putting the baby’s life at risk.”

  My chest tightened as that hit home.

  I could’ve blown out his heart.

  Nick slowly glided to my wrists. He pulled until the nozzle aimed at the ground. Nick clasped my hand and shook the weapon from my limp fingers, and then he buried the gun in my hair.

  “Crazy bitch. You’ll regret this stupid stunt.” The light in his eyes died as he climbed onto the bike. “We’re going home.”

  “I have a home. It’s not with you.”

  Thirty-Six

  Michael

  I kicked in the door.

  It smashed the wall. I strode inside the bachelor pad filled with black patent leather. Pussy and cigarettes filled the air. I followed the stench into a bedroom, where a naked Julian had fallen out of bed. Beer bottles littered the carpet. I ripped the satin sheets off. Whoever he’d slept with was already gone.

  Good. No witnesses.

  Julian struggled to his feet, dragging a baseball bat from under his desk. Deep lines carved his dimples. His pupils were blown with that drugged-out haze I recognized from all my dealings with Serena.

  He laughed. It was half grief and rage.

  “Serena was your whore. She was your fucking slut!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he readied his bat, oblivious to the pistol I pointed at his chest. “You knew I’d find out. You’re sick. You’re deranged.”

  “Not as crazy as I’ll be if my wife dies. Where is Carmela?”

  “Fuck you.”

  I pulled the trigger.

  Blood splattered the floor as a hole blew through his right knee. He collapsed, howling. The bat rolled toward me as Julian flailed, sobbing.

  “Where is she?”

  “It hurts. Oh my God. Help—“

  “Take another hit, you junkie.” I seized his hair and dragged him off the mattress, heat slicing my nerves as rubber tubing fell off his nightstand. “Is this what you’ve been doing with my money? Shooting up and selling out my wife! I’ll kill you!”

  “Please, don’t! I have a daughter.”

  “She’s better off without you.” I shoved the Glock to his temple, and he shrieked. “My wife! You gave that psychopath Carmela!”

  “An eye for an eye,” he snarled. “We know what you did to Serena.”

  “That’s what this is about? Serena?”

  He lunged at me with a beer
bottle.

  I yanked it from his clumsy grip and clocked him. He spilled over the dark floor as I lodged my foot in his upper back. As soon as I twisted his arm, Julian sagged. I’d fucked women who put up a stronger fight.

  “You’re inhuman. Pure evil.” His voice was a low, guttural moan. “She showed me her bruises. You beat her. You killed her.”

  My late wife had bitch-slapped me from the grave. She’d made her brother think the worst of me, and our children had almost paid the price. She’d tortured me with threats to take the kids. She’d done so many horrible things, and now, she’d cost me the love of my life.

  I wanted her gone.

  My gun ripped across Julian’s jaw. He slammed into the bed as crimson poured from his nose, his eyes wide and beseeching. I hammered him until my knuckles split, his soft body breaking under my blows.

  “Do you know what he did to my children?” I screamed. “You fucking degenerate! Tell me where he is.”

  His panic saturated the air like the unwashed, sharp scent of a man. “You’ll kill me anyway.”

  “Your life could still get a lot worse.”

  “You stole from him. He just wanted her back, so—so I told him Carmela’s routine. He must’ve snatched her. His address is on my phone. He said to bring her there if—if I got the chance.”

  I lunged at his cell, swiped it open, and found the information hidden in a note. I pulled it up on a map.

  Fifteen minutes away.

  “Please.” Julian held up his hands. “I have a kid.”

  I had two, and he’d handed them to Crash.

  I aimed at his face.

  “I didn’t murder Serena, but I am killing you.”

  Three holes zipped into Julian’s head, blowing out his skull. Blood seeped under his hair as he stared at the ceiling. I grasped his arm and yanked, catching most of the mess on the bed. Then I walked into the hall, beckoning at the tall silhouette.

  “Clean this up.”

  The soldier did my bidding, rolling Julian in the sheets. His sightless gaze disappeared under black.

  Good fucking riddance.

  There was no triumph from his death.

  Only rage.

  Thirty-Seven

  Carmela

  He kicked me downstairs.

  My hip crashed into the steps. I fell, sliding off the staircase. A scream ripped from my throat as I lost my balance. I slammed into hard-packed ground. I spat out dirt and flipped to my back, groaning.

  Lights flared, revealing an unfinished basement. My gaze swept across concrete walls and a low, wooden ceiling. Nick hurtled after me, gun in hand. He raised his arm.

  I covered my face.

  Giant bangs erupted as he fired, the clumps exploding around me. My ears rang with gunshots.

  “How do you fucking like it?” His knee crushed my ribs as he leaned over me, white-faced with fury. “Crazy bitch!”

  “Nick, stop!”

  “No, I won’t. You pointed a gun to my head, you psycho. I don’t have enough to worry about without my old lady trying to kill me? How dare you?”

  “Let her go!”

  A hoarse voice bellowed from the corner. The sound seemed to snap Nick from his rage as he faced a shirtless man who hunkered under the beams, his legs and feet bound.

  Familiar big eyes peered at me, a scowl darkening his pleasant features. A thick beard masked his jaw, but it was Anthony. Dirt streaked his jogging pants. Bruises and welts painted his chest red and purple. Ligature marks circled his wrists, and his teeth chattered.

  “Did you hear me, you Aryan-nation piece of shit?” Anthony strained against his bindings. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

  “He finally grows some balls.” Nick shot Anthony a grin and turned his attention to me. “Don’t tell me you sucked his cock, too. I don’t think I could handle that.”

  His hand wrapped my throat. He cut off my oxygen with a hard pinch. I raked his arms, unable to dislodge even a finger. Everything burned. My body screamed agony, and my ears filled with Anthony’s desperate scream. A chime interrupted the chaos.

  Air rushed into my lungs as Nick pulled away.

  He answered his phone. Then he climbed the stairs, disappearing into the house.

  I gasped, crawling toward Anthony. Blood ran down his hands from his restraints, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stared at me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What did he do to you?”

  “He just wants a punching bag.” A tremor went through him as he glanced upstairs. “Prejudiced asshole. I’ve wasted my whole goddamned life, and this is where it ends. In a fucking crawlspace.”

  “Your life isn’t ending. He’s not getting rid of us that easily.”

  Anthony slumped forward, as though he’d spent all his energy shouting. I grabbed a bottle and pressed it to his mouth. He drank small sips, and then greedily, grabbing it from me as he guzzled the water. He wiped his face with the drops that spilled and tossed it aside.

  Anthony was only here because of me.

  I had to free him.

  I ripped at his bindings and bit the plastic, but it was unyielding. Hard as a rock. Rope tied him to a pipe. I undid the knot—

  “Stop,” Anthony hissed. “He’s coming.”

  Nick descended the steps, looking undisturbed that Anthony was untied. “Up. Now.”

  Anthony glowered as Nick yanked the rope, tugging him upstairs. I followed them as he led Anthony into a sparse living room and shoved him onto a couch.

  “I just got off the phone with your new owners.” Nick ignored me as I joined them, focused on Anthony. “They’ll get more use out of you. You’re pathetic. My old lady could beat you in a wrestling match.”

  “Why don’t you remove these zip ties.” Anthony grinned. “Then we’ll see who’s the real tough guy.”

  “I’ll tear your liver out with my teeth.”

  “Then take them off, pussy.”

  I gaped at Nick.

  He wouldn’t seize the bait. He wasn’t that stupid, but something inside him had unraveled since the clubhouse. Fear. It pulsed like a diseased heart, turning his rage black. He was that fucking scared of being a father.

  Nick unsnapped the knife from his waist and knelt, sawing through Anthony’s bound ankles.

  Anthony leaned forward, his muscles taut. He caught my eye and jerked his head at the door.

  I barely reacted when Anthony launched with his feet, bashing Nick’s stomach before he’d untied his wrists. Nick hit the wall, laughing. He pushed Anthony with one palm.

  Nick waved the blade. “Do that again, and I’ll stab you.”

  “Carmela, run!”

  Anthony seized a chair and shoved Nick, who batted it aside. Anthony grimaced through Nick’s blows and tackled his legs, punching the backs of his knees.

  I ran, but the door was locked with dozens of latches. So I grabbed a window and threw it open—impeded by iron bars. Everything was blocked.

  Fuck.

  Anthony’s sacrifice would be for nothing.

  Their fight crashed into the foyer. Blood ran down Nick’s forehead as he dragged Anthony by his hair while he pummeled Nick’s abdomen.

  Anthony tried. He did, but he was beaten, starved, and restrained. Even the desperation to live wasn’t enough to overpower Nick.

  Nick stabbed Anthony’s shoulder.

  Anthony screamed.

  I sprinted toward him, and Nick sank his fist into my belly. I collapsed to a breathless heap as pain radiated inward. God, the baby.

  Anthony slumped, moaning.

  Nick unlocked the door and opened it, facing outside. “Take Costa off my hands before I kill him.”

  The guy slid into the room, but the only part I saw were his leather boots. “He was supposed to be unspoiled.”

  “Yeah, well. He’s also a pain-in-the-ass.” Nick stooped to Anthony and ripped out the knife, causing a fresh wave of screams. “I’ll knock off a thousand dollars for the damage.”


  “Done.”

  They exchanged money, and several men picked Anthony up. I scrambled to my feet, glimpsing Anthony’s tortured face before the door slammed, shutting them out. Seconds later, the crunch of gravel under the departing car’s tires filled me with dread. I rushed to the window as headlights swept across the darkness.

  He was gone.

  A howl went through me.

  Nick’s bloody hand rolled over my neck. He dug into my skin, turning me around. Red patches burned on his cheeks, and he still gripped the knife. His lips were white and shaking.

  “You fuck him, too? You did, didn’t you?” Anguish rippled through his words as he cut through my denial. “You had sex with him, and God knows how many other dagos.”

  The slur sent a ripple of anger through me. “I’m Italian.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  I would die tonight.

  Nick twisted the dagger, the mad gleam in his eyes sharpening. Obviously, the idea was growing on him. At this point, I was more of a nuisance than a lover. If I raised my hands, he’d beat me. If I submitted, he’d torture me. If I breathed, he’d choke me.

  “I’m just being honest, Nick.”

  “You’re never just doing anything,” he exploded, throwing me into a wall. “You know how to fuck me up.”

  “All right. Take it easy.”

  “No, you take it easy.” He grabbed my throat and shoved the dagger under my chin. “You fucking take it easy, Carmela. I will fuck all the women until you feel a fraction of what you’ve inflicted on me.”

  It was always about him.

  His suffering. His orgasms.

  Nick stepped back. He fisted his hair. “Loving you is constant pain. It is a never-ending agony. I want it to stop.”

  “Me too.”

  “Ever since I met you, it’s like I’ve been dying a slow death.” Nick’s hand trembled, and something wet rolled down my skin. “It has to stop.”

  He would do it.

  “Nick, if you kill me, we can’t make plans for the future, raise a family, or give us another shot.” Sweat beaded my upper lip as I groped for a weapon.

  “No. This has to end.”