The car slammed to a stop, and my body flung forward, my face colliding with the back of the passenger seat. I felt the trickle of blood on my lip a second before I tasted it. I winced, howling as I snapped my mouth open, causing the tooth that had gone into my bottom lip to tear the sensitive skin. The trickle turned into a burst of blood, but neither of the agents said anything as they got out of the car and hauled me with them.
I could feel the warmth of it running down my neck, and each small tic of my muscles felt like it was tearing it apart even more. “I need a tissue,” I groaned out. I was ignored, yet again, and dragged into a building that looked like a tower of offices. Was this where the headquarters was? Hiding in plain sight. Or was this somewhere different, somewhere that no one knew about?
Several people stood around, earpieces in their ears, their faces forward, not making a single move as we walked by them. The female agent who had tackled me to the floor back at the mansion gripped my arm harder, veering me to the left and into an open elevator.
The doors pinged shut, and then we were going up, the numbers above the doors flashing by at lightning speed. Everything was a blur as the doors opened back up. We traveled through several hallways, into a room, and then another hallway. Finally, I was pushed into a room, and they slammed the door behind me.
“Fuck you very much,” I groaned, wishing I hadn’t spoken as my lip burned and more blood trickled out of the cut.
I spun around in a circle, taking stock of the room. Three concrete walls surrounded me along with one mirrored one. I rolled my eyes. They couldn’t have been more predictable if they tried. A lone table sat in the middle of the room, bolted to the floor. I moved toward it, sitting on one of the two chairs. I was debating going to the mirror and seeing how bad my lip was, but there was no way I was going to give them the satisfaction. They were probably watching me.
I smirked. What would Lorenzo do in this situation? I’d been asking myself that a lot lately. I was who I was, and there was no changing that. I hated hard, but I loved harder. I stood up for what I believed in, and I surrendered when I knew it was the right time. And maybe back at the mansion should have been one of those times, but my gut told me it wasn’t.
The door clicked open, and I snapped my head to face it. I wasn’t prepared for a new agent to enter, so when a tall, good-looking man strode in, I raised a brow. He had that bad-boy vibe, the kind Lorenzo had, only Lorenzo’s wasn’t an act—it was just who he was. This guy…this guy was playing make-believe.
“Mrs. Beretta,” he said, his tone silky smooth. He stared down at a folder in his hands as he made his way to the chair opposite mine. “I see here that you resisted arrest while we were executing a warrant at…”
He paused, glancing up at me, then searching whatever papers he was holding. He was acting like he didn’t know, but both he and I knew this probably would have been their biggest operation all year. You didn’t execute a search warrant on a Mafia boss’s house on just any day of the week.
“The residence of the Beretta family. Mainly, Lorenzo Beretta.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to ask me a real question. He leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to the side. “What is a nice young woman like you doing marrying a scumbag like him?” I stared, not giving anything away. I’d watched enough true crime documentaries to know staying silent was my best bet. “Is it the money?” He placed his arms on the table, leaning closer to me and trying to disarm me with a smile. “Or is it the power?”
I pursed my lips, glancing around the room, acting like everything he said was boring. And it was. People always assumed things, but no one really knew what happened behind closed doors. To everyone else, Lorenzo was a lion, prowling around and taking whatever he wanted. But when it was just him and me, I saw a different side. I saw the wolf who protected his pack, the wolf who did anything for the people he loved.
“Staying quiet won’t get you anywhere,” the agent said, and I realized I didn’t know his name.
“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice sickly sweet.
“None of your business,” he said, narrowing his eyes on me and letting his fake facade slip.
I nodded. “Just like my life is none of yours.” I leaned forward, my shoulders screaming at the move because I still had the cuffs on behind my back. “I know my rights. I want a lawyer.”
“Are you sure about that, Mrs. Beretta?” the agent asked, his lip curling up in disgust. “If we get you a lawyer, then you forfeit the deal.”
“Deal?” I asked, figuring I may as well play along.
He sighed like I was too much work and taking up his valuable time. While I was over here with blood still trickling from my lip and numb hands. “If you cooperate, then we won’t charge you with murder after the fact.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He was absurd. This entire thing was nuts. And then I realized they had every intention of bringing me here, whether I resisted or not.
“You think this is funny?” He slammed his hand on the desk, standing up. “A man is dead. Murdered. And not just any man, but an FBI agent.”
“Oh.” I fluttered my lashes at him. “I’m sorry. How did he die?” His nostrils flared, his hands clenching. “Is that a hard question?” I asked, feeling something bubbling up inside me. The longer he was in here with me, the easier it was to read him. “You have his body, right? So, it can’t be that hard to tell what he died of. Sorry, what he was murdered of.”
He backed away a step, his chest heaving with breaths, and for a second, I doubted myself. I didn’t know who this person was. I wasn’t in an official police station. I was here on my own, still cuffed, with no one to help me. But the fight in me didn’t wane. I wasn’t standing for this.
“You don’t have the body, do you?” I waited for him to answer, but when he didn’t, I leaned back. “So, you want to offer me a deal for the murder of someone who you’re not even sure is dead?” I paused. “Am I hearing that right?” When he still didn’t answer me, I gritted out, “I’m not saying another word to you until I see my lawyer, or you let me go.”
“You will say a word!” he shouted, causing me to jump from the way it bounced off the walls. “You’ll tell me where the agent is, and you’ll assist in the investigation. Otherwise, I’ll see to it myself that you don’t leave this room until you’re about to be charged.”
I raised my brows and shrugged. I was done talking. Not just because he was talking out of his ass, but also because my lip was throbbing so badly, I could barely stand it.
He paced the room in front of me, jabbering on like I was listening to what he was saying, but it went in one ear and then straight back out of the other. Finally, after what felt like hours, he left the room, slamming the door behind him, giving me a break from his incessant chatter. I was sure he thought the more he talked, the more likely I was to bite back, but I’d already found out what I wanted to know—the reason they’d turned up to the mansion. They were looking for one of their agents, and slowly as the time passed by, I started to piece the last couple of weeks together. Was this what Lorenzo had put us on lockdown for? I groaned. Of course, it was.
The door swung open, and I turned my head just enough to see another agent standing in the doorway. My back straightened as I recognized him from back at the mansion. He was the one who had pistol-whipped Lorenzo and grinned while he did it. “Let’s go,” he barked, holding the door open for me.
I stood, feeling my legs wobble from the position I’d been in for who knew how many hours, and stumbled toward him. If I was anywhere else, I would have spat my words and told him exactly what I thought of him. But right then, I felt like I couldn’t. I was trapped, trying to do what I was told so I could get the hell out of here.
He gripped my bicep, pulling me along through the maze of hallways again, and then the elevators came into view. We waited for the doors to open, then walked inside, all the while I was trying to keep my bubbling emotions under control. Were they taking
me somewhere else? Was the other agent being serious about charging me with murder after the fact? They couldn’t do that, right? Right?
I couldn’t get control of my thoughts as they whirled around my head, not when the elevator doors opened, not when the agent marched me past the other agents on the lower level, and not when he spun me around and undid my cuffs.
“You’re free to go,” he said, sounding bored.
“I’m…” I turned to look out of the windows, where morning light was starting to shine through. “I can go?”
“Yeah.” He stepped closer, towering over me. “You may have gotten away with it this time, but I’ll be watching.” He paused, his face turning red with his anger. “I’ll be watching all of you. Waiting for the mistake that you will make.” His lips curved on one side. “And I’ll be right there, dishing out the punishment trash like you deserve.”
I raised my brows, not sure what to say to that, so instead of opening my mouth, I spun around, not wasting a single second to get the hell out of here. I darted for the main doors, hearing the agent’s laughter follow me out.
The cool morning air slapped me in the face when I made it outside. I’d been in there all night. They’d kept me in that room for at least ten hours, but it hadn’t felt like it. It had felt like moments in time rather than hours shooting by.
I glanced down at my wrists, seeing the purple bruising banding around them, and stretched my fingers out. My arms felt like they weren’t mine as I gained the feeling back in them. I took one look back at the building, then sprinted away from it, afraid they’d scoop me back up if I lingered. I wasn’t sure where I was heading, but when a yellow taxi drove by with the light on the top, I held my arm out.
The car skidded to a stop, so I jumped in, reeling the address of the mansion off. I didn’t lean back; I didn’t relax. I kept turning around, sure that someone would be following me. But the roads were empty at this time of the morning, a peacefulness drifting over the city that I’d never witnessed before.
We pulled into the street the mansion was on, and a breath of relief left me in a whoosh. The gates were hanging open, and it was only then I realized the loud bang before they’d all come barging in was them ramming the gates. “Pull into the driveway,” I told the taxi driver, and he did, stopping just outside the wide-open mansion doors.
Lorenzo was pacing in the foyer, his cell to his ear, when he turned and spotted me. He said something, dropped his cell to the floor, and sprinted toward me.
LORENZO
“Where the hell have you been?” I growled out, wrapping my arms around her and lifting her up off the ground. I’d been calling everyone and anyone, trying to find out where she was, but I’d had no luck. No one knew of an FBI headquarters in the city, but I was certain that was what the agent had said just before they’d taken her away.
“Ow,” she groaned, but it wasn’t just any kind of groan. No, it was a painful one.
I yanked back from her, searching her face and feeling white-hot anger slam into me with so much force I stumbled back. “What the fuck did they do?” I growled. Her lip was twice the size and turning dark purple, but it was the dried blood leading down to her neck that had me wanting to pull my gun and find Agent fuckin’ Morgan. Watching him bark orders at everyone as they tore the house apart told me that he was the one in charge.
“Can you pay the taxi driver?” Aida asked, closing her eyes and leaning her head on my shoulder. Her body was spent, getting heavier the longer she leaned against me.
I spun us around, blinking at Mateo and Christian, who stood a few feet away. “Pay him.” I stepped toward them. “And give him a tip for bringing her home safe.”
Aida sighed, the kind of sigh that told me she was happy to be home, but I couldn’t feel any of that, not right then. My rage had gripped me so tightly that all I could think about was finding out what the hell was going on and getting some answers.
I held Aida tightly as I headed up the stairs and to our room. All of our things were strewn on the floor: her clothes and makeup, my suits, even the mattress had been yanked off the bed and left half on it and half on the floor.
They’d torn apart every inch of the house, not giving a fuck if they broke anything. It was what they did, what they’d always done, which was yet another reason why I wasn’t going to let this lie. They’d invaded my home on a warrant signed by a judge I knew was on The Enterprise's payroll—specifically Piero. He was the one who had his fingers in with politicians and judges, yet he hadn’t warned me something was coming. I’d known it in my gut, but that was different from having solid information.
I moved us into the bathroom, switching the shower on and heading straight under it, not caring that we were still fully clothed. She clung to me as the water hit her back, her chest heaving at the move.
“I’m gonna kill them,” I told her. “I’ll kill every single one of them for hurting you.” It was a promise I knew I would see through, whether it took me months or years. I’d make sure they got retribution for touching what was mine.
“Okay,” she whispered, and I froze. I didn’t expect her to agree with me, but I shouldn’t have been surprised, not after everything she’d done in the last day. She’d tried to get to an agent who pistol-whipped me, not having a single care in the world that she was surrounded by the FBI. She fought for what she thought was right, and damn if I didn’t love that about her.
“Let me clean you up,” I said, letting her down. Her feet hit the tiled floor, and she slipped her slides off, flinging them to the edge of the shower. I helped her take her T-shirt off, grinning at the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I honestly wondered if the only time she wore one was when she was in college.
My hands trailed down her arms and to her wrists, where she winced, and my anger slowly turned to torment. Purple bands covered her small wrists, and I couldn’t help but blame myself. If I’d checked out the two soldiers who had tried to steal from me on my wedding night, then maybe I would have found out one of them was FBI. I’d allowed other people to do the job, but I realized now that I couldn’t rely on anyone else, not yet anyway.
Dad had always handled things himself, and time and time again I asked why he didn’t let the people under him handle things he didn’t need to be involved in. You’ll understand when the time comes. His words echoed in my head. I understood now. I understood that I was at the top for a reason. The buck started and ended with me.
I bent down, helping her out of her leggings, then stood, reaching for a washcloth to get the dried blood off her neck. I was methodical, not stopping until she was clean, any traces other than bruises gone. I shucked out of my own shirt and slacks, then switched the shower off.
Our wet bodies collided as I wrapped my arms around her again, carrying her to our bedroom. “Stay here,” I said, planting her in the middle of the room. I grabbed two towels from the bathroom, then wrapping her in one of them.
Her eyes closed as I dried myself and threw on some sweatpants. It was the middle of the week, and I had work to do, especially now, but none of that was my priority. All that mattered was making sure Aida was okay. And as I pushed the mattress back onto the bed and placed the pillows back where they belonged, I saw another trickle of blood coming from her lip.
“I’m calling the doctor in,” I told her, grinding my teeth together.
She nodded, her eyes still closed. She wasn’t fighting me on it, and I was glad because I was already sending a message to the doctor I kept on call. Normally he was there to fix members of the business when they got injured, but I knew he could handle this too.
I placed my cell into my pocket and reached for her. “Come and get into bed.” She groaned as I helped her into it, her eyes still not opening, and within seconds, soft snores were sounding out. She’d been kept up all night, and although I wanted to know every single thing that happened, I knew what she needed right then was rest and her lip fixed.
So, I waited at her side, not moving a singl
e inch until the doctor came. “Lorenzo,” he greeted, standing in the doorway to my bedroom with Christian by his side. “You requested my services.”
I stood, narrowing my eyes on Doctor Dubeke. “She has a cut on her lip that won’t stop bleeding and bruises on her wrists.” I kept my stare on him. “Fix her up.”
“Hello to you too.” He rolled his eyes, a move that didn’t suit a fifty-year-old doctor, but he was used to the way I talked because he’d known me since I was a kid. Not only was he the doctor for the family, but he was also a friend, one who we knew wouldn’t say a word to anyone—primarily because of the generous paycheck we gave him.
I didn’t answer him as I turned back to Aida and gently placed my hand on her shoulder. “Baby?” I murmured, shaking her a little. She groaned, her eyes fluttering open. “The doctor is here.” She hummed in the back of her throat, and I couldn’t help but smile down at her. I’d panicked when I couldn’t find her. I’d felt like I was missing half of my body, not knowing where she was, but now that she was home, I could relax. At least momentarily.
“I’m gonna head down into my office while he fixes you up.” I flicked my gaze over to Christian, who was still standing in the doorway.
“Okay.” She squeezed my hand and gripped the towel still wrapped around her body.
Doctor Dubeke slipped past me, sitting on the edge of the bed, but I didn’t make a move. I couldn’t get my feet to work, my instinct to stay with her too strong.
“Lorenzo,” Christian called, and I snapped my head around to face him. “We have some intel.”
I nodded, my gaze veering back to Aida one last time. She was okay here. She was safe. I inhaled a deep breath, grabbed a T-shirt that was lying on the floor, then followed Christian out of my bedroom. I headed toward the door at the end of the hall, the secret passage that would take us straight into my office.
Voices leaked from the office, but when I entered, they silenced. Mateo and Dante were at the edges of the room, and Uncle Antonio and Uncle Alonzo were in the middle, along with Romeo, Antonio’s twenty-year-old son. He was new to the family business, not usually allowed in meetings like this, but as I turned to face Dante, I knew having Romeo here so young would help. He wouldn’t end up making mistakes, not like Dante had.
Lorenzo Beretta Page 17
