Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2)

by Adelaide Forrest

  Ryker stood, leaning against the table where he kept his tools and fiddling with them like he couldn't wait to dig in. And I would let him. I wouldn't torture my father. He'd enjoy seeing me behave like a monster, even if it did mean he suffered.

  Because it would mean that I was just like him in the end, that I was everything he'd molded me to be. I wanted him to die knowing that I was everything she made me. That I might kill, but I didn't enjoy it the way my father did.

  "You're a stain on the Earth, and you need to be removed so our women can be safe," Ryker's voice carried all the fury he held, and I had to imagine it was largely in part due to the fact that he was so close to claiming Calla. That his self-imposed deadline would expire soon.

  I might have pitied her for the shock she had coming her way, if I didn't know that Ryker would be better to her than she could ever dream.

  "You don't have a woman," my father laughed, and even at his age his shirtless body was lean.

  Ryker leaned in, giving my father that terrifying grin of his that showed just how closely the monster played at his surface. I honestly wasn't sure if he had a surface. "I'm about to."

  Gabriele turned his attention to me finally. "Well?"

  "What was the plan? What were you going to do with my wife?" I hissed, fury making my body lock solid. I wanted to play casual, wanted to make sure he never saw how it burned me to know that he'd so desperately tried to take away the only thing I loved.

  "Walsh needed money, I needed her gone. Murphy wasn't willing to go toe to toe with Matteo over a piece of ass, so I found a private buyer in Mexico. He has a thing for redheads, and they're so rare down there." He stared at me, as if he could make me see the truth of his words. I didn't need to see them, because I could feel that they were true, and they only echoed what Emilio had told me before I shot him.

  He'd intended to sell my wife to another man.

  "She's worth a lot of money if you'd like to reconsider—" Ryker's fist connected with his face, so sharply that Gabriele spit out a bloody tooth.

  "Did you love my mother?" I asked, and I made a good show of fidgeting with the tools on the table. Ryker's eyes lit with excitement, the messed-up dude wanting nothing more than to take out his frustrations on Gabriele. There was nothing, and I mean nothing the man hated more than people who preyed on women and children. I suspected it went back to his childhood, but no one would ever know.

  There was probably a reason that he and Scar had an unspoken bond, that even though they didn't ever seem to speak of it, they had each other's backs.

  "Of course I loved her. Why do you think I spent your entire life telling you that love weakened you?" Gabriele spat.

  "And what would you have done if someone tried to sell her?" My words came out in a rough growl, because I knew what I would have done if someone tried to sell her. Even though I'd been young, I'd have tried to kill them slowly, such was the way my father had trained me from the moment I could hold a gun or a knife in my hand.

  I vowed that my children would be allowed to be children, that they'd know the affection of their mother and father. Even if they would one day follow in mine and Matteo’s footsteps, there was no way I could ever force that on them when the biggest concern they should have was losing a game of soccer.

  "I'd have made him suffer," Gabriele snarled. I knew it was meant to push me to that edge, to the horrifying thing he'd tried to turn me into.

  “Right, so you know exactly what’s coming,” I snarled, but I stepped back and leaned my back into the wall. As much as I wanted to torment him, I wasn’t interested in becoming what he’d always wanted me to be. Someone who enjoyed torture, who thrived on it.

  But he had to suffer, and I’d enjoy watching it.

  I nodded to Ryker, and the man went to the door. We waited in silence, and I knew my father knew what was coming. When Ryker returned, the brand held in his hands, he strode up to Gabriele. The moment the brand touched the flesh of his chest, he gritted his teeth. His burning flesh filled the room with a putrid stink, the sound of it sizzling seemed to echo in the otherwise quiet space as Gabriele refused to scream. Once the brand pulled off his chest, the word Traitor stared back at me.

  I watched, keeping my face impassive as Ryker went through tool after tool. He took everything my father had: his blood, his nails, his tongue, and eventually all his fingers. The way he worked was systematic, as if he didn’t enjoy it, but I knew better. Ryker’s cruel blue eyes glinted with joy every time my father grunted in pain, and when he eventually shouted when Ryker finally grabbed the fillet knife, a smile broke out on my friend’s face.

  “No man sells a woman, so I think it only fitting that you no longer be a man,” Ryker grinned at him. I pitied him for having to look at my father after he cut his underwear away, for having to reach out with a gloved hand to hold him in the proper position while my father struggled.

  The sound of his scream echoed through the room as Ryker drew the knife through his flesh. He took everything, and only when my father sobbed and slumped in the chair as his blood pooled out of him did I raise my gun and give him the mercy of death.

  With that confirmed, I turned and strode out of the warehouse.

  Because my wife was waiting.

  ✽✽✽

  There was no blood on me when I came home. Nothing to show that I'd killed another man.

  Three in one day wasn't a record for me, but I knew it would make Samara feel uncertain.

  So I was grateful for the absence of blood. At least she wouldn't have to see the body or be reminded of what I'd done. She was flat on her back in bed, wide awake and looking up at me when I stepped in. I knew she wouldn't be able to sleep on her side, and I wondered if I should sleep in a spare room for the time being. I always pulled her into me while I slept, and I didn't want to hurt her.

  "I'm going to sleep in a guest room, so I don't hurt you," I told her, feeling dejected. After nearly losing her, after nearly losing everything that mattered to me, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed with my wife and hold her. I wanted to make love to her, and from the way her eyes shone she knew as well as I did that it couldn't happen.

  "I can't sleep without you," she murmured, and I tugged off my clothes against my better judgement. Her weight in the bed next to me soothed something inside me, the part of me that felt ragged and torn by the near loss of her.

  She was alive.

  She was with me.

  That was all that mattered in the end.

  "Did you—"

  "Yes," I grunted in response. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. Whatever it takes. I'll kill as many men as I need to and burn the world to the ground if it means you're safe and where you belong—with me." She snuggled her face into my shoulder, and I admired the strength it must have taken, how hard it must have been, for her to fight off two fully grown men and walk away with only a broken rib.

  She was so small, my tiny little spitfire of a wife.

  And the men she'd fought were much bigger than her. Emilio was trained.

  "I think Sadie should be the godmother," I whispered.

  "Hmmm?" Her sleepy murmur made the last ragged shiver inside me melt away, and I chuckled, tucking my head down so that it touched the top of hers and her copper hair tickled my face.

  "Of our first baby. Sadie should be the Godmother," I whispered.

  She sniffled, and my heart broke all over again. "I think so too," she said back. It was settled, as simple as that. The woman who had taught Samara to defend herself and given her the skills she needed to survive was the only person I could even consider in light of the day we'd had. "Goodnight, my Stallion."

  "Goodnight, Little Dove," I chuckled against her hair, and fell asleep with the world next to me.

  Epilogue

  Samara

  Two months later

  I walked in the front door to the scent of Lino working his magic in the kitchen. It seemed like he was always in the kitchen lately.

  I wondered
if it was the male version of nesting, even if he didn't know I was pregnant just yet. I wondered if he sensed the life growing inside me the way I did. Knowing how in tune with me he was, it seemed likely.

  I choked down the nausea that threatened my stomach, the smell of bacon cooking turning it sour. I didn't want to let on, didn't want to give away the surprise too early. The little box in my purse made me want to thrust it at him immediately, and excitement helped chase away the nausea. I'd been lucky thus far, but I could almost feel it coming to an end. Like I'd wake up to the worst morning sickness yet in just a few days.

  "How was work?" Lino asked, stepping away from the stove long enough to lean down and kiss me hello.

  "It was good. Nothing unusual really." The truth was, I'd stopped loving my job. I didn't hate it, or hate the work I did, but I couldn't imagine leaving a baby behind during the day to go there.

  Nothing I did felt significant. I helped rich men get richer. Helped Jasper make his clients as much money as possible.

  It had never been my first choice. Or my second choice. Or even my third.

  So it just seemed foolish to cling to it out of some desire for independence. Could a woman ever really be independent when she had personal security hired by her husband? When someone drove her to and from work every day? It felt like an exercise in futility, but I'd never again argue against the need for protection.

  Not when I had a child to think of.

  "Do you not like the job anymore?" Lino asked, eyeing me as I sat at the island.

  "I do," I lied. "I like working for Jasper. It gives me more opportunity to torment him now that he's got the love bug." Lino turned, flipping the bacon and grabbed the ground beef to form patties. "Cheeseburgers again?"

  He grinned at me in that mischievous way of his, and I fought the urge to sigh. The fucking man knew damn well I was pregnant. "You've been scarfing them down like a monster lately."

  Sighing in frustration, I grabbed the box from my purse and set it on the counter. He grinned at me. "You can't just let it be a surprise, can you?" He washed his hands quickly, turning to the box and yanking the lid off. The stuffed horse looked tiny in his hands, but I knew it would be just the right size for our child to cuddle with. "A foal for my Stallion."

  "We'll order cheeseburgers," he announced, spinning and turning off the heat on the stove.

  He set the foal on the counter, and then stalked toward me. I ran for the stairs, giggling as he chased me. The happiness that exploded in my chest couldn't be stopped, couldn't be tamed.

  Nothing would ever again convince me that this man didn't love me. Nothing would come between us.

  Not with the way his eyes lit with joy as he followed me to the bedroom.

  When I made it inside, I spun around to face him. His eyes sparkled with all the excitement I felt inside, and my face split into the widest smile I think my face had ever worn. "We're having a baby," he murmured, closing the distance between us. His hands touched my belly, sliding over the flat surface of it with awe on his face.

  "We're having a baby," I confirmed.

  "Ivory had the best doctor. We'll get you an appointment as soon as possible—"

  "Lino, it's early. I'll call the doctor in the morning, but for now, we're fine," I reassured him with a giggle. "We'll be fine."

  "I never dreamed that I could be this happy," he whispered, dropping to his knees in front of me. He lifted my shirt, pressing the side of his head to the bare skin of my belly. I ran my fingers through his hair, watching him press a kiss to the spot just above my belly button. "You're going to have the best mommy in the world," he whispered, and I resisted the urge to tell him that I doubted the baby could hear him just yet. It was too sweet to interrupt.

  "I think that when life is better than you could ever dream, there's only one thing left to do."

  He turned his attention back to me, standing and watching as I tugged the blouse off over my head. "And what's that, vita mia?"

  "Make love to your wife," I whispered, sliding the zipper down on my skirt. I'd never get tired of watching his eyes heat like pools of molten lava, of knowing that I made him crave me so intensely. That he found me as addictive as I found him. Lino's shirt and sweatpants went next, his body naked thanks to his refusal to wear underwear at home recently. I loved knowing that if I tugged down his sweatpants or his shorts, he'd be naked underneath. That I could have him in my hand within seconds, and my mouth soon after.

  I shucked off my bra, staring intently at the part of him I'd come to crave like a desperate addict. I couldn't go a day without him inside me, and the weeks when I'd been healing from the broken ribs proved that. I'd been like a mad woman, wanting and angry that he wouldn't give me what I needed.

  Getting pregnant after that couldn't come as a surprise, not when we'd had sex constantly for days once I'd gotten the all-clear from the doctor. Lino's fingers hooked in the waistband of my underwear, guiding them down my legs slowly and teasing me as he helped me step out of them. His hand touched my jaw, cradling my face so that he could touch his lips to mine in a deep breath that felt like he inhaled me into his soul.

  But it wasn't possible.

  Not when I was already part of him.

  Those hands came down on my hips, lifting me suddenly so that he could toss me into the middle of the bed. I shrieked when he came down on top of me, devouring me with his mouth.

  My lips, my neck, my heart. He made his way to my stomach in a slow glide of lips and delicate nips with his teeth, and the way he hesitated at my stomach brought my eyes to his. He kissed the skin once, twice, three times. The joy in his eyes clouded over with worry, and I knew my stallion well enough to know that he thought of his own father. Wondered if his father had ever kissed his mother's stomach or been a good father. If he'd ever shown any promise to the child he didn't know yet. "You'll be an amazing father," I whispered, using my words and my love to chase away his doubts.

  His eyes warmed, the clouds that lurked there fading away in the face of how much I loved him.

  Love healed all wounds.

  He lowered his mouth, and the first swipe of his tongue through me sent me soaring, sent the emotional moment to a new peak. He didn't explore, he couldn't explore something that was his, something that he knew better than I did, but he did take his time.

  He worshiped every inch of me, bathing it in warmth and love until I writhed beneath him, desperate for him to send me over the edge. Burying my hand in his hair, I pressed him tighter, trying to take just a moment of control so that I could find my release. But Lino refused to allow me that control and pulled back to slap my pussy just hard enough that the skin tingled in the wake of the burn.

  He grinned at me, knowing I loved it just as much as he loved doing it, and then he crawled up my body and surged inside me. He shoved my knees high, holding my legs open wide so that he could lean his weight over mine and take my mouth to silence my cry. "Fuck," he groaned, echoing the sentiment that echoed in the deepest part of me. His thrusts sent me spinning, his slow and deep rhythm as he danced his hips in and out of me a thing of absolute beauty. I tilted my head up, watching him work inside and pull back out and then turning my eyes to him.

  I whimpered his name, the punishing thrusts striking the deepest part of me until I clenched around him with my orgasm, my entire body locking tight. I clutched him tight with my arms, my legs, every part of me needing him to touch mine. I needed him, wanted him.

  Forever.

  Once I'd come down, he flipped me over to my stomach, cocking one leg up to open me up to him and then he pounded back in. I moaned when he sealed his chest to my back, striving toward his own orgasm. Two hands clenched each side of my butt, spreading me wide so that he could get deeper. Impossibly deep. I clenched my hands into the sheets beneath me, using it to muffle my screams when he picked up the pace and lost his rhythm. Lost himself in me. "This fucking pussy," he groaned in my ear as he flooded it with heat and released me. His weight covered mine,
and I couldn't resist the temptation to wiggle my hips against him.

  His palm cracked down against the side of my ass.

  "I love you," I giggled.

  "I love you too, Little Dove. Always."

  We laid like that for a few more minutes, until the sound of my stomach growling made him chuckle against me. "Guess I should feed you then."

  "If I'm eating for two now, does that mean I get two cheeseburgers?" The way his body shook with his unrestrained laughter against me was my favorite feeling of all. Knowing I gave him that, just like he gave it to me.

  I let myself live for that moment, for the way I knew he would make me feel for the rest of my life.

  Happy. Whole.

  Healed.

  For more of Lino and Samara, download the exclusive extended epilogue for a glimpse into their life eight months later. Get it here.

  To stay up to date on the latest information about the second book in the Bellandi Crime Syndicate, Lino and Samara's story, join my facebook group.

  Continue on for a sneak peek into Grieved Loss (Bellandi Crime Syndicate #3), which is now available for pre-order here.

  Coming soon.

  Grieved Loss Sneak Peek

  Ryker

  Four years ago

  I hated this shit. Hated having to spy on an innocent woman because her husband decided the simple life and white picket fence just wasn't for him. Following him came easy, even if it meant I had to work harder to stay hidden.

  They frowned upon stalking the police.

  But stalking a woman like Calla Rae Latour?

  That was a crime that deserved a death sentence. It was a crime that I knew I could never justify to myself.

  Especially since she was quickly becoming an addiction. Since I could feel her pulsing in my veins as if I'd shot her up like a drug.