by Cora Reilly
“Drive!”
I stared up at the gray ceiling of the car, my breathing ragged.
“My, what a beautiful bride you are,” Remo said. I raised my eyes and met his, wishing I hadn’t because the twisted smile on his face burned through me like a thunderstorm of terror. Then I passed out.
REMO
Serafina passed out beside me. I regarded her closely. Now that she wasn’t thrashing or screaming, I could admire her like a bride deserved. Dots of blood splattered her dress like rubies and marred the creamy skin of her neckline. Pure perfection.
“We seem to have shaken them off,” Fabiano muttered.
My eyes were drawn to the back window, but nobody was following us for the moment. We had injured, not killed Serafina’s two companions, so part of the forces would waste time tending to their injuries.
“She is a nice piece of ass,” Simeone commented from behind the steering wheel.
I leaned forward. “And you will never look at her again unless you want me to rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your ass. One more fucking disrespectful word from you and your tongue will keep your eyeballs company, understood?”
Simeone gave a jerky nod.
Fabiano caught my gaze with a curious expression. I leaned back and returned my gaze to the woman curled up beside me on the seat. Her hair was pinned tightly to her head as if even that part of her needed to be tamed and under control, but one wayward strand had freed itself and curled wildly over her temple. I wrapped it around my finger. I couldn’t wait to find out how tame Serafina really was.
I carried a limp Serafina into the motel room and set her down on one of the two beds. Reaching for a twig that had tangled itself in her hair, I removed it before undoing her updo, letting her hair spill out on the pillow. I straightened.
Fabiano sighed. “Cavallaro will seek retribution.”
“He won’t attack us as long as we have her. She’s vulnerable and he knows he can’t get her out of Vegas alive.”
Fabiano nodded, his eyes moving to Serafina who lay limply on the bed, her face tilted to the side, her long elegant neck on display. My gaze lowered to the fine lace above the soft swell of her breast. A high-collared dress. Modest and elegant, nothing vulgar or overly sexy about Dante’s niece, and yet she would have brought many men to their knees. She looked like a fucking angel with her blond hair and pale skin, and the white dress only emphasized that impression. The epitome of innocence and purity. I had to bite back a laugh.
“What are you thinking?” Fabiano asked warily as he followed my gaze toward the bride.
“That they couldn’t have emphasized her innocence more if they’d tried.” I moved closer, my gaze trailing over her narrow hips. “I prefer the blood stains on her dress.”
“It was her wedding. Of course they would emphasize her purity. You know how it is. Girls in our circles are kept protected until they enter marriage. They must lose their innocence on their wedding night. Cavallaro and her fiancé will probably do anything to make sure she returns to them untouched. Danilo is Underboss. Her father is Underboss. Dante fucking Cavallaro is her uncle. No matter what you ask of them, they will deliver. If you ask them to hand over my father now, they will do it and we will be rid of her.”
I shook my head. “I won’t ask for anything yet. I won’t make it that easy for them. They attacked Las Vegas. They tried killing my brothers, tried killing you and me. They brought war into my city, and I will bring war into their midst. I will destroy them from the inside. I will break them.”
Fabiano frowned. “How?”
I regarded him. The hint of wariness in his voice was barely noticeable, but I knew him well. “By breaking someone they are supposed to protect. If there’s one thing I know, then it’s that even men like us rarely forgive themselves for letting people they are supposed to protect get hurt. Her family will go crazy with worry over her. Every day they’re going to wonder what’s happening to her. They’re going to imagine how she’s suffering. Her mother will blame her husband and brother. And they will blame themselves. Their guilt will spread like cancer among them. And I will fuel their worry. I will tear them apart.”
Fabiano lowered his gaze to Serafina, who started stirring slightly. The rip in her wedding dress shifted, exposing her long bare leg. She was wearing a white lace garter. Fabiano reached for the skirt of her dress and covered her leg. I tilted my head at him.
“She’s an innocent,” he said neutrally.
“She won’t return to them innocent,” I said darkly.
Fabiano met my gaze. “Hurting her won’t break the Outfit. They will come closer together to bring you down.”
“We will see,” I murmured. “Let’s call Nino and see which route to choose next.” Fabiano and I moved toward the desk and put the phone on loudspeaker.
We had just finished our call when Serafina moaned. We turned to her. She woke with a start, disoriented. She blinked slowly at the wall then up at the ceiling. Her movements were slow, sluggish. Her breathing picked up, and she looked down at her body, her hands feeling her ribs then lower, coming to rest on her abdomen—as if she thought we’d fucked her while she was passed out. I supposed it made sense. She would have been sore.
“If you keep touching yourself like that, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Her gaze darted to us, her body stiffening.
“We didn’t touch you while you were unconscious,” Fabiano told her.
Her eyes darted between him and me. It was obvious she wasn’t sure if she could believe him.
“You would know if Fabiano or I had fucked you, trust me, Serafina.”
She pressed her lips together, fear and disgust swirling in her blue eyes. She began squirming and wiggling as if she was trying to get off the bed but couldn’t control her body. Eventually she closed her eyes, her chest heaving, her fingers trembling against the blanket.
“She’s still drugged,” Fabiano said.
“I’ll get her a coke. Maybe the caffeine will sober her up. I don’t like her this weak and unresponsive. It’s no challenge.”
SERAFINA
I watched Remo leave the room and forced myself into a sitting position. “Fabiano,” I whispered.
He came closer and knelt before me. “Fina,” he said simply. Only my brother called me by that name, but Fabiano had always played with us when we were little and knew me by the nickname.
My mother hadn’t raised me to beg, but I was desperate. I touched his hand. “Please help me. You were part of the Outfit. You can’t allow this.”
He pulled his hand away, his eyes hard. “I am part of the Camorra.”
He stood and looked down at me without a hint of emotion.
“What will happen to me? What does your Capo want with me?” I asked hoarsely.
For a second his eyes softened, and that was the most terrifying answer he could have given me. “The Outfit attacked us on our own territory. Remo is out for retribution.”
Icy terror clawed at my insides. “But I have nothing to do with your business.”
“You don’t, but Dante is your uncle and your father and fiancé are high-ranking Outfit members.”
I looked down at my hands. My knuckles were chalk white from clutching the fabric of my dress. Then I noticed the red stains and quickly released the tulle. “So he’s going to make them pay by hurting me?” My voice broke. I cleared my throat, trying hard and failing to hold on to my composure.
“Remo didn’t divulge his plan to me,” he said, but I didn’t believe him for one second. “He might use you to bribe your uncle into handing over parts of his territory ... or his Consigliere.”
Uncle Dante would never give up part of his territory, not even for family, no matter how much my mother begged him to, nor would he hand over one of his men, his Consigliere. He couldn’t, not for one girl. I was lost.
My vision swam again and I slumped back down onto the mattress.
Through the fogginess I heard Remo’s v
oice. “Change of plans. Let her sleep the drugs out of her system while we drive. We’ve spent too much time at this place. Nino called again. He suggests we head out now. He sent our helicopter to pick us up in Kansas. He heard from Grigory that Cavallaro has called upon every soldier to search for his niece and we are still on the fringes of his territory.”
Dante was trying to save me. Dad and Danilo would be searching for me as well. And Samuel, my Samuel, would look for me. If we were still on Outfit territory not all hope was lost.
CHAPTER 3
SERAFINA
I woke in a car, curled into myself, half tangled in my dress. Fabiano was in the backseat beside me but didn’t look at me. Instead, he was checking the rear window. Another man sat in the front behind the wheel and beside him was Remo.
I wasn’t sure if they’d given me another tranquilizer or if my body had trouble fighting the effects of the first injection. I hadn’t eaten all day and hardly had anything to drink. A low moan slipped past my lips.
Fabiano and Remo both looked down at me. Remo’s dark eyes sent a shiver of fear down my spine, but Fabiano’s gaze didn’t offer any consolation either. I closed my eyes again, hating how vulnerable I felt.
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been driving, but the next time I woke we were in a helicopter. I struggled into a sitting position. The strip with hotels and casinos spread out below, and my stomach constricted as the helicopter started its descent over Las Vegas. I didn’t say a word to either Fabiano or Remo, and they didn’t talk to me either. The tension was still palpable in the helicopter, but they had escaped from the Outfit and now I was in Las Vegas. In Camorra territory. At their mercy.
The moment we landed, Fabiano helped me out of the helicopter while Remo talked to someone on the phone. I needed to wash my face and clear my head so I could think straight again. I had been in my wedding dress for almost twenty-four hours. I felt sticky and sluggish and exhausted. And underneath it all a terror I had trouble containing throbbed inside of me.
I was pushed into another car, and eventually we pulled up in front of a shabby strip club called the Sugar Trap.
Fabiano gripped my arm again as Remo went ahead without a single glance at me.
“Fabi,” I tried, but he tightened his hold. “I need to go to the bathroom and wash my face. I don’t feel good.”
He led me inside the deserted strip club toward the ladies’ room and followed me inside to wait at the washbasins. Remo had ignored me mostly, but I had a feeling that would change soon.
I went to the toilet, hating that I knew Fabiano could hear me. There was nothing I could have used as a weapon, and even if there were, how would that help me surrounded by Camorrista? I dropped my skirt when I was done, breathing deeply, trying to hide my emotions.
“Serafina,” came Fabiano’s warning voice. “Don’t make me get you out of there. You won’t like it.”
Straightening my shoulders, I came back out, feeling shaky from dehydration.
I bent over the washbasin and washed my face then drank a few gulps of water.
“You can have a coke from the bar,” Fabiano said. Before I could say anything, he gripped me by the arm and dragged me out. My bare feet ached. I must have cut them on the forest ground. My eyes flitted around the room. It wasn’t deserted anymore. As if drawn out by the commotion, several scantily clad women had gathered at the bar.
They avoided looking at me, and I realized I couldn’t hope for their help. Not a single person in Las Vegas would probably risk helping me.
“Coke,” Fabiano barked at a dark-skinned man behind the bar, who grabbed a bottle, opened it, and handed it to Fabiano. The man purposely wasn’t looking at me.
Good Lord. Where had they taken me? What kind of hellhole was Las Vegas?
“Drink,” Fabiano said, holding the bottle out for me. I took it and had a few long sips. The cold, sweet liquid seemed to revive my brain and body.
“Come.” Fabiano led me through a door and along a bare-walled corridor toward another door. When he opened it and stepped inside with me, my stomach revolted.
Inside were two unknown men, both of them Falcones, I assumed. All of them were tall, with hard expressions and this air of unbridled cruelty that they were famous for. One of them had gray eyes and looked older than the other guy. I tried to remember their names, but then my eyes met Remo’s and my mind turned blank.
The Camorra Capo had shed his shirt. There was a fresh wound on his left side that had been stitched up, but there was still blood around it. My pulse stuttered in my veins at the sight of his muscles and scars.
“Your twin almost got me there,” Remo said with a dark laugh. “But not enough to stop me from capturing his beloved sister.” He said beloved like it was something filthy, something worthless.
Fabiano released me and joined the other men, leaving me standing in the middle of the room like a piece of meat that needed inspecting. Dread settled in my bones because maybe that was exactly what I was to them. Meat.
Remo pointed at the gray-eyed man. “That’s my brother Nino.” Then he gestured at the younger man beside him. “And my brother Savio.”
Remo stalked closer, every muscle in his upper body taut, as if he was a predator about to pounce. I stood my ground. I wouldn’t give him an inch. I wouldn’t give him anything. Not my fear and not a single tear. He couldn’t force those from me. I didn’t kid myself thinking that I could stop him from taking anything else.
“Serafina Cavallaro.” My name was a caress on his lips as he slowly walked around me. He stopped close behind me so I couldn’t see him.
I suppressed a shiver. “Not Cavallaro. That’s my uncle’s name, not mine.”
Remo’s breath fanned over my neck. “In every regard that matters, you are a Cavallaro.”
I dug my nails into my palms. Nino’s gray eyes followed the movement without a flicker of emotion on his face. Fabiano perched on the desk, looking at the man behind me but not me. Savio regarded me with a mix of curiosity and calculation.
I didn’t say anything, only stared stubbornly ahead. Remo circled me and stopped in front of me. He was a tall man, and I wished for my heels. I wasn’t exactly small, but barefoot only the top of my head reached his chin. I lifted my head slightly, trying to appear taller.
Remo’s mouth twitched. “I hear you were supposed to marry your fiancé, Danilo Mancini, yesterday,” he said with a twisted grin. “So I robbed you of your wedding night.”
I remembered Mom’s consoling words. That Danilo would be good to me. That I didn’t have to be scared of him claiming his rights after our wedding. And Samuel’s words that he’d hunt down Danilo if he didn’t treat me like a lady.
As I stared up into the face of Remo Falcone, my worry of having sex with Danilo seemed ridiculous. The Camorra wouldn’t be good to me. The name of their Capo was spoken in hushed, terrified whispers even among women in the Outfit. And a terror unlike anything I’d ever encountered gripped me, but I forced it down. Pride was the only weapon I had, and I would hold on to it until the very end.
“I wonder if you let your fiancé have a taste before your wedding,” Remo murmured, his voice a low vibrato full of threat, his dark eyes raking over me.
Indignation filled me. How dare he suggest something like that? “Of course not,” I said coldly. “The first kiss of a honorable Outfit woman happens on her wedding day.”
His grin widened, wolf-like, and I realized my mistake. He’d led me into a trap. My own pride a weapon he used against me.
REMO
She held her head high in spite her mistake. Her long blond hair trailed down her back. Cool blue eyes assessed me like I wasn’t worth her attention. Perfect.
Highborn and about to take a deep fall.
“So proud and cold,” I said, trailing a finger down her cheek and throat. “Just like good ol’ Uncle Dante.” She turned her face away with a disgusted expression.
I laughed. “Oh yes, that stupid Outfit pride. I can’t wai
t to rid you of it.”
“I’ll take that pride to the grave with me,” she said haughtily.
I leaned even closer, my body lightly pressing up against hers. “Killing you is the last thing on my mind, believe me.” I let my eyes travel the length of her body. “There are far more entertaining things I can think of.”
Terror flashed over her face, only briefly, then it was gone. But I saw it. So death didn’t bother the girl, or so she thought, but the idea of being touched by me put a chink into that prideful exterior.
“So you have never kissed a man before,” I mused, leaning in so close that our lips were almost touching.
She stood her ground, but a slight tremor went through her body. She pressed her lips together, refusing an answer.
“This will be fun.”
“My family and fiancé will tear down Las Vegas if you hurt me.”
“Oh, I hope they do, so I can bathe in their blood,” I said. “But I doubt you’ll be worth their trouble once I’m done with you. Or will your fiancé settle for the leftovers of another man?”
She finally took a step back.
My smile pulled wider. Her eyes darted to something behind me. To someone. I followed her gaze to Fabiano. His eyes met mine, his expression hard and unrelenting, but I knew him inside out. He’d known Serafina as a child, had played with her. There was a hint of strain in his eyes, but he wouldn’t come to her aid, neither would Nino or Savio.
I turned back around to her. “Nobody will save you, so you better stop hoping for it.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I decide what to hope for. You might rule over Las Vegas and over these men, but you don’t rule over me, Remo Falcone.”
Never before had someone spat out my name like that, and it sent a fucking thrill through me.
“Oh, Serafina,” I said darkly. “That’s where you’re wrong, and I will prove it to you.”
“And I will prove you wrong.” Her blue eyes held mine, back in control, back to being her prideful self. But she had given me an opening earlier, had shown me a crack in her mask, and she couldn’t undo it. I knew how to get under her skin.
