Taken: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Vanessa Waltz

  “We’ll start over—a clean slate.” My fingers brushed something solid, and I gripped it. “I want to be with you.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I have to live for the baby. The baby’s done nothing to you. There’s a piece of you living inside me. Don’t you care?”

  His eyes swam with tears.

  The door burst open, and Nick’s head turned. He lifted the blade. I swung hard, smashing him with a fireplace poker. A red gash split his cheek. Michael grabbed him from behind, and they ripped at each other like beasts. Michael grasped the poker I’d dropped and cinched it against Nick’s throat.

  Alessio crashed his foot into Nick’s jaw, and then Michael shoved him down. My brother-in-law rolled his sleeves before he joined Michael in pummeling Nick’s ribs and stomach. Savage blows knocked Nick down, again and again. They were like wolves, tearing into struggling prey. They beat him until they’d exhausted themselves, panting.

  Nick’s broken hands waded in blood as he picked himself up.

  Alessio seized his hair. “Where is Anthony?”

  “Kill me, and you’ll never find him.”

  “What did you do with him?”

  “Sold to the highest bidder.” Nick spat a mouthful of crimson. “I’ll give you the information if you leave us alone.”

  “There is no us.” I wiped the warmth tickling my collar and reveled in his helpless position. “You and I were nothing but a disaster. And the baby is Michael’s, not yours.”

  “Wait.”

  I stepped around him and headed outside.

  “Beauty, I lov—”

  Three deafening booms cut off Nick’s voice.

  I flinched at the sound and settled onto the wet lawn, grateful for the tickle of blades hitting my palms and the dew clinging to them. It was like being hurled into a brand new world. Nick’s death was supposed to make me ecstatic, but horror balled up inside me at how it’d ended.

  Then Michael held me.

  He balled me against his chest. The citrus scent triggered a bomb that exploded my every reserve of calm. I dove into his heat and buried my face in his neck. I cried like I never had before. My nails sank into his back. I ran my fingers along his stubble, the gentle cleft in his chin, his mouth. Then I smashed my lips into his.

  He returned the pressure with a softness that slicked me with heat. Angling his head, he claimed me. It was like we’d been separated for weeks. His big hands stroked my hair as I choked on my tears, desperate to get it out of me.

  “I love you. I missed you so much.”

  Michael’s forehead pressed into mine. “I love you, too.”

  “Are the kids okay?”

  “Yes, they’re fine. You did good.” Michael’s kiss stung my cheek, and then he hovered. “Are you really pregnant?”

  I smiled. “He made me take a test. Michael, we’re having a baby.”

  Shock rippled through his bourbon eyes.

  “Are you—are you happy?” I asked him.

  He cupped my cheeks, beaming. “Beyond happy.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Michael

  I had my wife back.

  That was all I cared about.

  The weeks since Crash’s death saw a flurry of activity. Everyone worried about a still missing Anthony. All we had to go on was Carmela’s vague description of an Eastern European accent and his leather shoes. My poor wife agonized over Anthony, but I compartmentalized it all. It was hard to ignore what gave me so much joy.

  Carmela loved me.

  She’d bounced from the incident with Crash a lot faster than I had, shelving that part of her past behind us so quickly it made my head spin. The house echoed with her singing, and she glowed whenever I walked into the room. I woke up to blowjobs. She couldn’t keep her hands off me, and I loved it.

  Nothing could get me down.

  Not Anthony’s disappearance. Not even dinner with the in-laws.

  Carmela’s hand stiffened around my wrist, preventing me from opening the door. She shot me a smoldering look, and then her eyes slid to the backseat.

  I grinned, catching on. “You’re kidding.”

  “Too shy?”

  “Baby, it’s broad daylight. You want me arrested?” I glanced up and down the suburban street. “Or does the danger of that turn you on?”

  She leaned in close and nipped my ear. “I want you.”

  My slacks tightened as she climbed into the back. I followed, dropping in the seat beside her. She’d already ripped off her panties and straddled me before I’d settled in. She smashed her lips against mine. Her kiss got as hard as a diamond. It was all tongue—pure lust.

  “The backseat of an Audi,” I teased. “What are we, teenagers?”

  I stopped asking questions when she unzipped me and grabbed my cock. I spent more days laying pipe than working because the second trimester had turned Carmela into a raving sex addict. Ten minutes later, her hands slapped the fogged window as I moaned into her hair. She came soon after, and then we dissolved into the leather seats. Carmela’s phone beeped with text messages as we tidied ourselves.

  Then I staggered out of the car. Sweat dotted my shirt, which I tucked into my slacks. Carmela chuckled as she wiped my face free of lipstick.

  “Now we’re really late.”

  Not that I minded. I had no desire to be here.

  My father-in-law’s house was still the place where my brother had died, no matter how complicated our relationship had been. Hanging out here didn’t feel right, and neither did rubbing elbows with Ignacio, but I wanted to tell him the news.

  Carmela slipped her hand into mine, her cheeks flushed. “Am I decent?”

  “The just-fucked look suits you.”

  Carmela sighed, letting that roll off her shoulders. We headed to the mansion, and I knocked on the door.

  Maria answered. “We’re already eating!”

  “Yeah, I know. So sorry.” I stepped in, waving at everyone in the dining room. “Fucking traffic.”

  Alessio looked up from his chicken cacciatore and smirked. He laughed, drawing questioning looks from his clueless wife and our mother-in-law. Ignacio stood, his voice blistering.

  “At my house, you show up on time, or you don’t eat at all.”

  Fine by me.

  I lurched toward the door until Carmela shot me a plea, which worked too well.

  Maria manhandled us into seats. Baby Lexy sat in a highchair, mashing spaghetti into her face. I buried a stab of annoyance at Alessio’s presence. As far as I was concerned, his inaction had set forth a devastating chain of consequences that resulted in Anthony being sold into slavery and Carmela’s horrific trauma. Helping me take care of that asshole didn’t undo the damage.

  Mia and Carmela were always trying to get us talking. They invited us to the same events. Alessio and I ignored each other. Occasionally, we bickered. Sometimes it made Carmela burst into tears.

  And I couldn’t have that.

  So I told her I wasn’t doing it anymore.

  Unfortunately, Carmela could rope me into anything.

  I refused a seat. “Ignacio, we should talk.”

  “Can it wait until after dinner?”

  “It won’t be long.”

  Ignacio sighed, wiping his mouth. He ruffled Lexy’s glossy hair as he passed, grabbing his wine. He drank deeply as he strolled into his study. I followed, closing the door.

  “What is it?”

  I unlocked my phone and showed him the photo. “Here’s the first.”

  “Holy shit.” Ignacio grasped my hand, yanking the cell toward him. “That’s him. Crash.”

  “Yeah, what’s left of the prick.”

  I’d instructed my men to desecrate his body, and I had wheeled his bike into the Bay. Watching his beloved Harley sink into the water was cathartic. Carmela and I kept the details about her kidnapping quiet. She didn’t want her parents to worry and had no desire to relive those twenty-four-hours.

  “When did this happen?”
/>   “A few weeks ago. I’ve been busy.” Plus, I didn’t exactly relish more time with Ignacio.

  “You did it,” he said, sounding bewildered. “You fucking did it.”

  “Say that I’m useless.”

  “You’re not. I’m sorry. Thank you, Michael. You have no idea what a load off my mind this is—“

  “Stop begging Carmela to have us over. I don’t want to be in your life. You still murdered my brother.”

  Ignacio wiped his face, and I looked away.

  “I never wanted to hurt him.”

  My throat tightened. I couldn’t do this.

  He grabbed my wrist before I headed out.

  I shoved him into the bookshelf. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened. It might cost me, but I owe you.” He gestured at the seat. “Sit.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  Ignacio backed onto his desk, suddenly tired. “I didn’t want to murder your brother. Nico asked me to do it. One of his associates approached me. Said to keep my mouth shut because you couldn’t find out that Daniel was a snitch. They claimed he was a CI.”

  What the hell?

  My head jerked up. “Are you fucking with me?”

  He shook his head. “I had nothing against Daniel.”

  I believed him. He had the same tells as Carmela.

  My brother was a snitch.

  My insides collapsed, and I sagged on the chair. It was a blow to all I’d known about my brother. The pieces fell like dominos—Uncle Nico using the guy under my brother’s protection to assassinate him, and Ignacio’s bullheadedness.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  “Your uncle’s instructions were very clear.” Ignacio’s eyes glazed over as he stared beyond me. “I think he was trying to spare you.”

  As though being in the dark made it any better.

  “Does my cousin know?”

  I doubted it. Uncle Nico knew we were close. Vinn would’ve shared that information in an instant.

  “No idea. I’m sorry, kid.” Ignacio patted my shoulder.

  He tried to drag me into a hug, but I pushed him aside and burst from the office, following my wife’s bubbly voice into the dining room, where she tucked into chicken cacciatore. Her eyes sparkled with happiness. I didn’t want to ruin it, so I left the house.

  I slumped on the porch steps and buried my head in my hands.

  Seconds later, the door opened. She sat next to me.

  “Go back inside. Finish your dinner,” I said.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll walk around the neighborhood.”

  My face heated, her disappointment leadening my guts. I’d already upset Carmela by refusing to bring the kids to Ignacio’s place. After Crash and Julian, I needed to wait until I was certain they’d be secure.

  Carmela leaned on me. “What about Alessio?”

  Too bad I didn’t have kinder words for my brother-in-law. “We don’t get along.”

  “You know I love the way you defend me, but I wish you’d forgive Alessio. Please.”

  “I just can’t.”

  “I’ve forgiven him. I want you to do the same.”

  “I can’t, babe.” I pressed my mouth into her frown until her lips softened. “He needs to earn my forgiveness.”

  “Hasn’t he?”

  I shrugged. “He helped me take out the trash. That’s not good enough.”

  Carmela kissed me hard, her eyes blazing. “I love you.”

  Warmth bloomed in my chest.

  God, that never got old.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  “It’s my turn! I wanna play—”

  “No, it’s my Nintendo. Carmela got it for me.” Mariette flashed her younger brother a superior grin. “Carmela, tell him it’s mine.”

  Carmela sipped her virgin cocktail. “Let him play. You’ve had it all morning.”

  “Told you so,” Matteo gloated.

  Mariette sulked as he took the video game controller and bounced on the couch, mashing its buttons. Carmela prepared a salami board as I rolled prosciutto di parma with goat cheese. The moment she told me she’d bought a half-pound of this shit, I knew who it was for.

  “Alessio’s coming over?”

  “Yeah.” Carmela returned to her task, swallowing hard. “It’s the six-month anniversary of his disappearance.”

  Anthony was still missing.

  When she’d revealed everything that happened in that twenty-four hours, I didn’t sleep for weeks. I wished Crash was still alive so I could kill him again.

  Poor bastard.

  He'd taken a knife for Carmela. Now that was bravery. If he hadn’t been there to stall Crash...who knows?

  I owed him. I wanted to get him back, but leads were thin on the ground. We’d tracked down Crash’s trafficking ring on the dark web. It was how he was able to pay off so many people. He had a network of buyers who’d deleted their accounts when he died.

  Carmela cried when she discovered what I’d done to Julian. She insisted on checking in on Julian’s kid, who seemed like she was doing well with her mom. Once Carmela realized the kid was fine, she relaxed.

  I washed my hands at the sink and wandered down the hall.

  Pictures of Carmela and the children covered the walls. A photo of Serena hung in each of the kids’ rooms. Carmela encouraged me to release my anger, and I was trying. But there was one thing left to do.

  I found my daughter in the library, where she’d stalked after handing over the Nintendo. She smiled as I sat next to her, which was a significant improvement from “Go away.”

  “Hey, honey. I need to talk to you.”

  Mariette paused, setting down the pencil. “About what?”

  I grabbed Serena’s wedding ring from my pocket. “This was your mother’s.”

  Mariette plucked it from my hand, her blue eyes widening with awe. She slipped it on her finger.

  “It’s too big for you but I’ll give it to you when you’re older.” I stroked her beautiful hair, admiring how the light made it shine. “Your mother and I didn’t get along, but that doesn’t mean I never cared about her. One day, I hope you’ll understand. Just know that I love you. Always.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I took the jewelry and ruffled her head. A glow of pride balled in my chest as she gave up on coloring within the lines and scribbled over the page. Then I headed out.

  Carmela leaned on the threshold, beaming at me. “That was nice of you.”

  “You and that word.” I hooked her waist and dragged her into an empty room. “I’m not nice.”

  “You are, though. You didn’t scowl when I mentioned Alessio.”

  “He is my brother-in-law—”

  “And you let me name our baby after Anthony.”

  “Luke Anthony Costa. It’s his middle name, and I only agreed because he will find the whole thing so hilarious.”

  “Bullshit. You said yes because you love me. You don't complain when Alessio comes over. You do everything to make my happy, all the time, and you never ask for anything.”

  “You’re all I’ll ever need, Carmela.”

  I didn’t want to forgive Alessio, but I would anyway because I would always bend over backward for her.

  I wasn’t a good man.

  No doubt about that.

  My impulses were just as dark as they were when we first married, but she’d softened me to people in our lives. She showed me that marriage wasn’t supposed to be a constant battle of wills. That it was okay to disagree without disrespecting each other. Giving her the world seemed like a fair trade because I’d found peace.

  I’d found her.

  # # #

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/>   Want the first book in the Sinners of Boston series? Get Alessio and Mia’s story HERE! Or keep reading for the first chapter!

  Arranged: Sinners of Boston #1

  Mia

  Everything was gone.

  I’d trashed my sister’s wedding invitations, deleted our Pinterest gallery, and emptied the kitchen of save-the-dates. Alessio & Carmela monograms went into the garbage, along with every marriage-related detail concerning venues, florists, and bakeries.

  Mom didn’t need the reminders.

  A lump lodged in my throat as I buried my sister’s beautiful future. Her hopes and dreams joined bits of eggshell, banana peel, and leftover pasta. My fists clenched her engagement photos, which were the hardest to destroy. I’d spent too many hours dwelling over the what-ifs of the path she’d never take.

  It was self-inflicted torture. A wound I kept reopening.

  Carmela was never coming back.

  She couldn’t.

  How did someone go from engaged to dead?

  My sister went missing six months ago. The police had found enough of her blood in a wooded area to investigate her disappearance as a homicide. It was three weeks since her empty coffin was lowered into the ground, dragging with it a piece of my soul.

  I still couldn’t believe it.

  The girl who’d nagged at me, taught me how to use lip liner, and seemed indestructible with her iron-clad confidence, had left this world. She’d never again belt out an Italian ballad or fight me over a pair of heels.

  Day after day, the finality rang inside like the hollow beating of a drum. Gone, gone, gone.

  The bag of wedding memorabilia weighed down more than just my arm as I took it outside. I descended the porch and headed into the street filled with Cadillacs. The sickly-sweet aroma of jasmine, which surrounded the property, clung to my skin.

  It rained last night, leaving everything darker, especially the herb garden, which burst with tomato vines and basil. I pushed the swing gate into the side yard, where a tall mafioso leaned against the fence. As the door swung, he snapped to attention. He’d won the Italian genetic lottery with his linebacker body and the elegant ridges over his eyes that begged for a kiss.