Anthony pats me on the back. “Don’t worry, big guy. We’re all reasonable people. I’m sure we can work something out.”
What the fuck does he mean by that? As a show of good faith, Anthony holsters his gun. He looks at me, expecting me to do the same. I decide to play along, so I do.
“There’s someone who wants to speak with you.” Anthony takes my arm, and leads me to the second car, the one without Jess. He opens the backdoor for me. Inside is Franco Mariano.
“Hello, Snake,” Franco says, tipping his hat to me. “Come. Join me. We have business to discuss.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jess
In the backseat, I’m squished between two grim looking mobsters. Bruno is to my right. I can feel the ripples of his hard muscles pressing against my flesh. He’s a massive monolith of stone. If I make one wrong move, I know he could crush me in an instant.
Anthony is to my left. I haven’t worked with him like Bruno, so I barely know him. He looks pensively out of the window, but I know he’s watching me closely. Every time I so much as flinch, his jerks his gaze towards me menacingly.
In the silent stillness of the car, I feel raw and vulnerable. I’d been sure that Snake and I were on our way to freedom, to our bright, happy future until they stopped us. I’d allowed myself to feel relief. Now, that’s gone.
Was Jake worth all of this? Actually, that’s not the question to ask. Was my goal to avenge his death for him, or for me? The anger I’d felt was for purely selfish reasons. I thought the perfect life I deserved was violently ripped away from me, and I wanted to make those who were responsible pay.
I thought I loved Jake. Now I know better.
I don’t want it to end here.
I clear my throat, getting both of their attention. As their gazes shift, I can feel them closing in on me.
“We’ll give you a cut of the profits,” I say, keeping my voice low. “We’ve made a lot of cash. Please, let us go.”
They respond with stoic silence, making anger shoot up my veins. How dare they treat me like I’m not even here, when I’m important enough to be killed. I want snap at them, to spit on their shoes. But what would that achieve? I let my anger control me in the past, and it’s led me here, on the road to certain death. I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to them to kill me now. My only hope is seeing Snake one last time. If I’m shot in the back of the car, that won’t happen.
We come to a stop in front of the concrete warehouse. Anthony and Bruno tightly grip both of my arms, and escort me out of the car. I scan the area, searching frantically for Snake. What if they’ve hurt him, or already killed him?
The second car comes to a stop behind us. To my instant relief, I see Snake get out of the car, unscathed. And he’s walking freely, without being forced by mobsters.
Someone else gets out of the same car. It’s an older man, someone I recognize.
Franco Mariano.
The boss smiles at Snake congenially, and the two shake hands.
“Snake,” I yell, as Anthony and Bruno muscle me inside.
I know he hears me, but he doesn’t look at me. He actively avoids my gaze, even though I’m screaming his name.
What did he and Franco talk about in the car? My blood rushes to my feet. Maybe the boss made him an enticing offer, something good enough to turn Snake against me, and bring him back into the Mariano fold. My body goes limp. Anthony and Bruno drag me forward.
I trusted Snake. And he’s going to betray me.
I feel like I’m floating when we enter the warehouse, and walk all the way through to Monty’s office. I can feel Snake’s presence, though I don’t look. I hear his footsteps behind me, heavy, determined. How could he do this? Did he ever truly care for me?
“Uncle Franco!” Monty exclaims when we enter his office. “This is a pleasant surprise. Can I get you a drink?”
Franco silently shakes his head, then finds a seat. Monty approaches Snake with his arms outstretched, and clasps his hands to Snake’s face.
“My boy,” Monty says, with the smile of a proud father. “I knew you’d do right by me. And I’m glad the boss is here to see that.”
Snake looks into Monty’s eyes, and gives him a solemn nod. This should disgust me, fill me with white hot rage. But I don’t feel anything. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. I just want to get this over with.
“And you,” Monty says, his gaze landing on me. He scans my body with his eyes, and begins to laugh. “My terrifying assassin. Look at her. This is what happens when you get into business with real men.” He smiles widely, then trails his finger down the side of my face, to my neck. “Maybe we should have some fun with you while your heart’s still beating, and your pussy’s still warm.”
“Don’t be a fucking pervert,” Franco says, bluntly, from his seat. He gestures to Snake. “Get on with it.”
For the first time, Snake looks at me. Those dark eyes are the same ones I remember of the troubled, brooding man I fell in love with. And whether or not his love was real, I know mine was. I should yell at him, curse him for his betrayal. But I don’t want him to think I hate him, because I don’t. Maybe this is the only way. At least one of us will get out alive. Maybe I deserve this for everything I’ve done. My record’s not clean. There’s blood on my hands, just like everyone else in this room.
Anthony and Bruno release my arms and step away. I’m left standing frozen on my own. Snake’s face is hard, and completely devoid of emotion.
“Turn around,” he says. “Get on your knees.”
I blink away the tears in my eyes, and nod at him. For a brief moment, I see a glimmer of warmth pass across his face, though it’s quickly extinguished. Looking down at my feet, I turn around slowly, then lower to my knees.
I’m ready, I think, focusing on the tiled floor.
The gun cocks behind me, and I hear a bullet shift into place. Snake takes in a sharp breath.
“This is for you, Jess,” he says.
Boom!
I clench my eyes shut, anticipating the bullet hurtling through my brain. But there’s no pain, just a feeling of lightness. White light envelops me. There’s a buzzing in my ears. And someone’s touching me. Someone’s lifting me up to my feet.
I think I’m dead when Snake wraps me in his arms, and that he’s some kind of angel. I collapse against him, taking a gasping breath. As I look over his shoulder, a shocking shade of red catches my eye.
Monty is face down on his desk. A pool of dark blood forms around his head.
Snake didn’t kill me.
The realization washes over me gradually, and is immediately followed by intense fear. The others will kill us. We have to get out of here.
I try to run, but Snake holds me tightly.
“It’s okay, Jess,” he says. “I’m sorry I had to scare you like that. Monty had to believe it was real.”
He strokes his fingers through my hair, kissing all over my face. I’m still in shock, trying to process it all.
Franco rises from his seat, and approaches us.
“Miss Hunt,” he says, removing his hat. “On behalf of the Mariano family, I’d like to formally apologize for the wrongful death of your fiancé.”
I turn back to Snake. “What’s he talking about?”
“Jake didn’t talk to that reporter,” Snake says. “Monty did. He pinned it on Jake.”
Franco sighs with regret. “With a heavy heart, I admit, the Mariano’s killed an innocent man. When it was uncovered that someone tried to kill Monty, I did my own, independent investigation. I looked into everyone at the party, which led me to you, Jess. But I didn’t stop there. I took another look at Jake’s case. I tracked down the reporter, and politely asked her to hand over the recorded conversation. I should have done that in the first place, but I had Monty’s word. On the tapes, he was clearly drunk, and thought he’d get lucky with the reporter, so he told her everything.”
I listen blankly, waiting for this information to sink in. Jake
was innocent, well, innocent in a sense. His death was a mistake, the result of Monty’s lies. Snake grabs the back of my neck, pressing his forehead into mine.
“Did Sal know?” I ask.
“I think he did,” Snake says. “He was trying to protect his father.” He grips me tighter. “Jake never should've died. None of this ever should’ve happened.”
I nod, blinking into the distance. “But it did.” My voice is hollow in my ears, making it sound disembodied. I look up at Snake, and deeply breathe in his scent. “And we’re here now.”
I feel the tension from Snake’s body release. He exhales deeply, and kisses me on the lips. The rest of the world disappears around me. The road that led us here is winding, bumpy, and fraught with moral pitfalls, but it’s behind us. The only direction to go in now is forward.
Epilogue
Firenze is alive, full of mobsters, all drinking, smoking cigars, and congratulating Snake and me. I look around the opulent lobby, the expansive murals on the wall, and the bubbling fountain in the center. The last time I was here, I couldn’t fully appreciate the beauty of this place. I’d been too busy plotting to kill Monty.
Snake’s arm slithers around my waist, pulling me closer to him, as yet another group of handsome, well dressed men wish us Auguri!, which means ‘best wishes’ in Italian. I gaze at Snake’s well defined features, and my heart flutters a little. The last time I was here, I was a different person, bitter, hard, and closed off to the world. Now, I’m so filled with happiness, sometimes I can hardly stand it.
Tomorrow, Snake and I will be married.
Scanning the crowd, I spot my parents sitting at a table in the corner. My mother is watching the scene with a curious awe. My dad is tapping his foot incessantly, which is what he does when he’s nervous. Everyone at this party, with their slicked back hair, tailored suits, and guns, some concealed, and some not, scream mafia. I sneak a kiss from Snake, and go over to sit with them.
“Having fun?” I ask, sitting down.
Mom blinks, looking around. “It’s definitely interesting,” she says.
“Never been to an Italian wedding before,” Dad says, taking a sip of his scotch on the rocks. I remember the well-worn paperback of The Godfather sitting by Dad’s armchair when I was a kid. I know exactly what he’s thinking.
The crowd parts in front of us, and Franco Mariano emerges. He wears a trench coat draped over his shoulders, a fedora, and bites a thick cigar between his teeth. I cringe for my parents’ sake. Franco might as well have the words Mafia Boss tattooed across his forehead.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hunt,” Franco says, extending his hand to my parents. “It’s an honor to meet you. We’re so pleased to have your Jessica join our family.”
“Family?” Mom says, squinting. “I thought Snake was an orphan.”
“We’re an adopted family of sorts,” Franco says. “I can assure you that Snake will take good care of your daughter. He’s rising up the ranks quite fast for someone his age. I foresee great things in his future, especially with a woman like Jessica by his side.”
Dad narrows his eyes. “That’s impressive,” he says, suspiciously.
Franco sweeps his arm towards the bar. “Please, drink as much as you like. Dinner will be served soon.”
With a graceful bow, Franco leaves us. Dad looks at the table for a moment, fiddling with his glass, before turning to me.
“What kind of business is Snake in again?” he asks.
“Concrete,” I squeak out.
“Rising up the ranks?” Dad scratches his chin. “What exactly did he mean by that?”
“He was promoted to manager recently,” I say. It’s not one hundred percent truthful, but it’s not exactly a lie, either. A capo is a manager of sorts. I take a deep swig of champagne.
“You’re drinking again?” Dad asks.
I lay my hand on top of his, softening my eyes “A glass of champagne, the night before my wedding, that’s all.”
Dad crosses his arms over his chest, sinking into himself. “Is everything about this concrete business on the up and up?”
I raise my eyebrow with a sardonic smile. “Are all the businesses you invest in on the up and up?”
Dad bristles at this. “I’m just concerned for you, after everything.”
“You don’t have to be concerned for me anymore,” I say. “I’m happier than I ever have been.”
He heaves his shoulders, sighing. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say that will make you reconsider?”
“Nope.” I shake my head with a smile.
“Does he treat you well?”
I catch a glimpse of Snake across the lobby. He smiles when our eyes meet, and starts to walk over.
“Better than that,” I say. “He treats me like his equal.”
When Snake approaches our table, I’m once again reminded of how startlingly handsome he is. With his black, tailored suit, towering height, and powerful build, he certainly makes an impression. I can’t believe that tomorrow, he’ll become my king, and I’ll be his queen.
Snake greets my parents, then lays his palm between my shoulder blades. His body heat warms me instantly.
“May I steal your daughter away?” Snake asks.
“I don’t think I could stop you,” Dad says.
I stand, and kiss my dad on the forehead before leaving with Snake. He takes my hand, leading me through the kitchen, to the small room tucked away in the back. It’s dark and quiet in here, a clear contrast to the bubbling excitement outside. This is the room where I poisoned Monty’s tequila. I feel a satisfied warmth in my belly. I didn’t get him them, but we got him in the end.
Snake pulls me into his chest, his arms hanging low around my waist. “What do your parents think of this crowd?”
I giggle. “They’re adjusting.”
“We can take some getting used to.” He reaches down further to grab my ass. The dark look in his eyes sends a shiver up my spine.
“I’ll say.” I stroke the side of his face. He leans in and gives me a deep kiss.
“I can’t believe that tomorrow you’ll be officially mine,” Snake says.
“It doesn’t have to be official to make it true.”
He presses tighter against me, kissing me again. I feel something hard in his shirt pocket.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s an Italian tradition,” Snake says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out something metallic and pointy. “The groom carries a piece of iron in his pocket for good luck. It’s not exactly iron, but it will do.” He holds it up, turning it around in the light.
“Is that-“
“The bullet that put Monty’s lights out.” Snake encloses the bullet in his fingers, then slips it back into his pocket. “The end of the old, the beginning of the new. Bruno found it for me.”
Snake looks away, his face turning slightly gray. I know what he’s thinking. Bruno’s his best man, but if things were different, it would be Salvatore filling those shoes. We haven’t seen or heard from Sal since we left him at Dr. Stone’s. Snake tried to track him down, but to no avail.
Snake shakes it off with a devilishly charming smile. “You know, it’s also tradition for the bride to make a small rip in her veil. For good luck.”
I purse my lips and glare at him. “No way in hell am I doing that. My veil is a thing of beauty.”
Snake laughs. “We don’t have to keep all of the old ways. Some people might not like that.”
“Who cares what other people think. You’re the one giving orders now.”
He takes my hand in his, and kisses my knuckles. “I’ll need your help, deciding which traditions to keep, and which ones to ditch.”
He gives me that dark, intense look. I know what’s going through his head, his fiendish desires. I smile at him coyly.
“What about the tradition of the bride and groom being kept apart the night before the wedding?” I ask, innocuously.
Snake’s face turns hard. He
looks down at me, his lips pressed together in determination. “I haven’t let you out of my sight from the moment I met you. I don’t plan to now.” He growls softly against my ear. “You’ll be sleeping in my bed tonight, and every night after that.”
We fall into a warm, all-encompassing kiss. I cling tightly to this man, Snake, my watcher, my protector, my partner, my husband.
From now, until forever.
The End
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Snake and Jess’s story. Look for Book Two of the Mafia Soldiers Series in early 2018. Sign up for my mailing list to stay updated.
Hungry for more mafia romance now? Keep clicking ahead for your sample chapters of HOSTAGE: The Romano Brothers Book One.
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Best,
Samantha
Hostage
A Dark Mafia Romance
Samantha Cade
‘Hostage’ Copyright Samantha Cade 2016
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
———————-
Mia
Pretend.
That’s what I have to do. That’s all I can do. In this snake’s den, they can smell fear, sense any small vulnerability that can be exploited.
I wipe the innocent doe look from my face, tighten my jaw and lower my eyebrows, and pretend. I pretend that these aren’t very, very bad guys. I pretend that the ungodly amount of liquor they’re consuming isn’t out of the ordinary, and neither is the guy crushing up pills in every one of his shot glasses. I pretend they aren’t killers and thieves, and ignore the fresh gash that runs diagonally across the pill crusher’s cheek. I pretend I’m not certain that the guy who did that is dead.
I tell myself that the warehouse hidden in the industrial part of town doesn’t give me the creeps. The dim, hazy glow that hangs just above the card table isn’t foreboding at all. I don’t ask myself where the nearest police station is.
This is all worth it. Just one night will pay for one month’s rent. Just one night. And all I have to do is pretend.
Beware the Snake Page 17
