My head moves side-to-side, then I repeat the action. Not one word out of her mouth gives me any answers.
“What are you talking about my father for?” I rack my brains for anything that adds up. “He was an accountant.” I think back to the man who I’d loved, wondering how he could have so angered the Silvestri family. I can’t see how he could have been involved with them. Unless, “Did he do the accounts for one of your businesses? Is that what this is about? Do you think he lost you money?” If so, he wouldn’t have done it on purpose. But even the best accountant can get caught out with an unexpected drop in the market at times.
“Lost us money?” She barks an incredulous laugh. She comes closer, placing a perfectly-manicured fingernail against my chin, forcing me to look up. “You really don’t have a clue, do you?”
“He killed my brother.”
Moving my head rapidly away from her touch, I turn to face the door where Angelino is leaning, his arms folded, his back against the wooden frame.
A chill settles in my gut just seeing him. “My father wouldn’t have killed anyone,” I protest, racking my brains. Was there a car accident or something I hadn’t heard about?
“He thought he was clever getting out of the game. Covering his tracks. We could never discover his new identity. But we knew he was out there, weaving his magic from behind a curtain, like the Wizard of Oz.” Pushing off the door, he walks into the room. “I didn’t give up, unlike my father. I couldn’t forgive. My brother bled out in my arms; you never forget that. I had to get the man responsible. Had to find out who he was. Well, lo and behold, he was your father. But by the time I came into possession of that knowledge, he was already dead.”
I open my mouth to repeat that my gentle father would never do anything like that, when he steps closer.
“I went to the funeral to spit on his grave. But what did I find instead? A dutiful daughter. I nearly killed you right then and there. But then circumstances changed.”
Vitalia gives a pained look to her husband. “We tried, but I can’t give Angelino a child.”
“Your father took someone I loved. So I came up with a better way of hurting him in return. I would have his daughter give me a son, and then take the boy from her. Marco, my trusted soldato, fucked that up. Theo might be mine, but again, he might not. He’s with Demon. An outlaw MC president who’ll spend his life thinking he’s bringing up a mafioso’s kid. Let him worry and watch his back, never being able to relax. While Violet, you’ll give me another, one I can be assured is my own child. This time I won’t make a mistake. You’ll stay here until you’ve given me what I want. After that?” He raises and lowers his shoulders and leaves me to guess at what’s in my future.
I hate him. I disliked him when I first met him, but you don’t need to like your boss. I could have done my job without letting my animosity show. But to allow him near me? To allow him to touch me, knowing he’s already had what I didn’t give freely? There’s no way I’d do that.
“You’re wrong about my father.” I make my voice as strong as I can, trying to hide the quiver of fear in it. “You have the wrong man. Whatever your investigations told you, the answer was wrong. As for me? I’ll never let you take me again. You’d have to kill me first. And—” I think fast, wondering whether a lie could put him off. The expectation of the expression on his face makes a hysterical laugh burst out of me. “You’ll have the same uncertainty again. Demon and I have started trying for a family. I might be pregnant even now.” My hands cover my stomach protectively.
Angel’s face changes. I never seen such an expression of rage. I rear back but can’t evade the hand that hits my face, so hard it snaps to one side. Gingerly, my tongue touches my teeth; none feel loose.
Surprisingly, it’s Vitalia who puts her hand on his arm. “There are ways to make sure she’s not carrying a bastard kid. Our plans will just have to be put on hold, if what she’s saying is the truth.”
His anger is fading, his emotion changing to something else. I can tell by the way he’s leering, how his greasy eyes are examining me from head to toe. Once again, I wish I was wearing something other than the dress I’d worn to impress my new husband. Now, though, it’s not designer gear I’d prefer, but something made out of armour plating.
Keep him talking. “What do you think my father did? Who do you think he was?” I try not to move away, try to face up to him, desperate to get his attention off what he intends to do with me and onto something else. “Why do you think he still owes you from beyond the grave, and what’s it got to do with me?”
His hand snakes out, curling cruelly around the back of my head. “It’s got everything to do with you. He took my blood away from me, I’ll take his. If you were a man, I’d kill you. As you’re a woman, I’ll keep you alive. For now, at least, while your useful.”
I remember the voices I heard yesterday. The shots. That Angelino’s here makes me think he was the one pulling the trigger. He’d mentioned the don. Is that where he’s been? Is ‘retiring’ an euphemism for assassination? “What about your father? Did you kill him?” Maybe if I remind him he’s a murderer too he won’t keep blaming my dad.
“Kill my father? Oh, no, I didn’t do that.” He exchanges a strange look with his wife. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked satisfied. “No, but yesterday I did have to dispose of a capo who did not see things my way.”
Such cold words delivered in such a chilling tone. I shiver, realising I can’t call on his better nature: he doesn’t have one. Instead I voice my hope out loud, framing it as a certainty.
“Demon won’t stop looking for me.”
My words don’t faze him at all. “He won’t find you. You won’t be here long and then you’ll be moved. Once I know you’re pregnant with my child, you’ll be sent to another location until you give birth. Then you’ll have outlived your usefulness to me. But I’ll still get my money’s worth. You see, I have an interest in another trade, and I’m sure to find a buyer for you.”
It’s not as though I hadn’t suspected when he first indicated I only had one purpose as far as he was concerned. But I’d prefer death to what he has planned. I shiver again. Despite the warmth of the room, goosebumps arise.
I have to convince him I don’t deserve the fate he has planned. “You’re wrong. Daddy would never hurt anyone. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. If he was involved in the death of your brother, it was an accident of some sort.”
“My brother was tortured and killed.”
I can’t hold back my gasp. “Daddy would never…”
He gives an incredulous laugh. “Just because he might not have wielded the knife doesn’t mean he wasn’t responsible.”
His fingers have relaxed. Taking the opportunity I pull away, moving around the sofa, putting it between him and myself.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him again. “All this is a great big mistake. And I’m not going to pay the price for a crime that was never committed, or at least, not by the man you’re accusing.”
Angelino tilts his head, his eyes narrow. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Violet. If I show you the proof that you never knew dear daddy at all, will you come to me willingly? Or at least, not fight. I’d prefer not to drug you again. You were, shall we say, not an active participant last time.”
He can’t have proof. But if he shows me what has misled him, I’m sure I’ll be able to prove it’s untrue. There has to be some way to get out of this. Maybe stringing him along will buy me some time. Time for Demon to find me.
There’s nothing that could make me voluntarily agree to let him violate me again. If I were to refuse to even consider it, he might just go ahead and rape me. I turn away, but watch him out of the corner of my eye. He’s smirking. He knows he’s going to get me anyway. He thinks no one is going to find me. He could be right. Demon might never discover where I am, but there’s always the chance. A possibility I need to hold onto or I’ll go crazy with grief.
Turning back around, feeling l
ike I’m making a deal with the Devil, while knowing what’s coming out of my mouth is a lie, I take a breath, then agree, “Yes.”
It’s childish, but I have my fingers crossed behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Demon
My phone vibrates. Cad’s sent me instructions, I follow them religiously with the result that I and the other prez’s can talk to each other. If we’re to keep getting into situations like this, I’m going to have to invest in some of those earpieces the feds use. Cad had warned me you can only have five people on one iPhone call. He’d called it old-fashioned. I hope we won’t be doing this shit again, but maybe we should be prepared and have a better way to keep in communication. I must have said some of my thoughts aloud, as someone responds.
“Get Cad to talk to Mouse,” Drummer suggests. “He knows about that shit.” I’d forgotten we’re now all on the same call.
“Everyone in place?”
“Yeah, but I’m taking over from Snatcher, he’s just been sick,” Thor informs us.
Damn, I’d suspected he had a concussion from being knocked off his bike. Now is not a good time to have it confirmed.
“I’m all right,” Snatcher himself informs us. “But yeah, to be on the safe side, deal with the VP. Don’t want to keel over when it’s all going down.”
“Explosives in place,” says Red, his statement copied by two other voices.
“On your count, Demon.”
“Five,” I start, and continue, “four, three, two, one.”
Three explosions go off at once. Guards flood out of the house, unsure which way to run, rifles held across bodies. Well, I say ‘flood’, but I can see only four. Immediately they start gesticulating, and one’s on his radio.
“How many coming your way?”
“Two came out the back, they seem reluctant to… ah, stay put. Let them come closer…” Red’s giving us a running commentary.
A shot is fired. “Winged one,” I hear Wraith through Drummer’s phone. “There were two on our side, the other’s just put his hands up.”
Red sounds both pleased and puzzled when he confirms, “Fuck. Mine are surrendering too. Who the fuck are we dealing with?”
Not bothering to try to find an answer, I take the advantage offered to me, that Lucio’s men aren’t putting up much of a fight. “I’m going in. Keep them occupied.”
At the sound of the shot, two of the guards who’d ran out the front door had turned tail and run back inside. The others dispersed around the side of the house.
“Got another couple here, Demon, just appeared from your direction. Sounds like we have the ones brave enough to fight back. We’ll get them secured and come in and meet you.” Thor doesn’t seem worried.
Eight guards in all. In the process of being locked down.
Pyro’s not only our explosive expert, he’s a sniper, too. I leave him and Skull with rifles to cover our backs, then Hell, Thunder and I go to our bikes. There’s a few hundred yards of driveway to cover, and that is the fastest way, even though it’s hardly a discreet approach. I’m hoping that the holes in the walls and other three points of attack will keep any guards we haven’t yet seen occupied and confused. I hear a burst of rapid fire and hope it’s Devils doing the shooting and not getting shot. But there’s no way back. Whatever we’ve started, we’ll see through to the bitter end.
Engines started, stands up, pull clutch back, shift into gear, twist throttle, release clutch: actions performed simultaneously with me by Thunder and Hellfire, then our wheels are throwing up gravel as we speed down the drive.
Stands down, engines off, bodies thrown off sideways, and we’re at the front door. A ping as a bullet hits a fairing, an answering shot from Pyro, and a swear word from Hell. Thunder shoots the lock and we’re inside.
A guard holds up a gun, but faced with three others all pointing his way, he does the sensible thing and, with shaking hands, puts it on the floor. Thunder has his hands zip-tied quickly.
“How many of you?” I ask him sharply.
One glare at his face has him answering. “Eight soldati. six are outside,” he grimaces as he hears more shots firing, “one more in here. He’s stayed with the don.”
So, not as many as I’d feared. They hadn’t expected an attack. As for the soldatos. I study the man in front of me. The way he’d been holding his gun was as if he’d never had a weapon in his hands before. He’d broken easily, too. What the fuck is going on?
“Where’s my wife?” I snap.
His eyes widen. “Your wife?”
“Violet Palmer.” Well, she’s technically a Black now. It’s more important to find her than worrying about what to call her.
“American?” When I nod, he shakes his head. “There are no American females here. Only the staff, all Italian.”
“Angel? Where is he?”
He looks confused. “He isn’t here. Only the don.”
Unsure whether to believe him, turning to Thunder, I order, “Go search the upstairs. Hell, can you…” I break off as I see Drummer walking along the back corridor accompanied by Pal and the Tucson men. “Pal, go with Thunder will you?”
Drummer waves to Rock and Beef. “You two take this floor.”
I add one last thing. “Tear the house a-fuckin’-part if you have to. But find her.”
The Vegas enforcer is eyeing the man we’ve caught. “Want me to question him?”
“Later. Thanks, Twister,” I decide. Searching will get faster results than torturing a man who might be prepared to take his boss’s secrets to the grave with him. “Hellfire, Drummer and I will go see Lucio. Where’s your boss?” I snap the last at the guard. A jerk of his head suggests the don’s in the room where we’d met him only a few days back.
Pushing the soldier in front of me, I enter what appears to be an empty room. Yeah, not surprising. With bombs and gunshots, he’s probably retreated to a safe room. “Where is it?” I tug the tied arms of the guard. Hell is already looking, in fact he’s walked right over to a bookcase and is standing in front of it. Our captive stiffens, letting me know he’s on the right track.
“Hell?”
“It’s here. It was in the blueprints.” Of course it fucking was. I should have spotted something like that, but I’d been too tied up with finding Violet.
“Open it,” I instruct.
The soldier, who’d given up his gun so easily, shakes his head vigorously at the thought of giving up his boss.
“Open it!” This time I snarl.
“Non c'è modo.” I don’t speak Italian, but his negative response suggests that he can’t.
There’s no time to waste. “Get the explosives from Pyro. We’ll blow the room up. Don’t care if we kill him.”
“The Semtex should do the job. Spotted a weakness on the blueprints.”
The soldier goes rigid again. His eyes flick to Hell, then back to me. As my father starts to walk past, he steps forward. “No.” He stares at Hell, looking to see if he’s bluffing or not.
I know he wouldn’t have seen that level of detail on the plans Cad had shown us back at the clubhouse, but I also learned, early on, few people could come out the winner against my dad in a game of poker.
“Your boss comes out and answers our questions,” I say, gravelly, “or we blow him to smithereens. Your choice.”
He’s gone pale. Loyalty to the famiglia will be as great as, if not greater than, that shown by the members of my club to me. If he makes the wrong choice, he’ll be dead. And, for him, the wrong one is believing us.
“It can only be opened from the inside,” he tells us, stiffly.
“Can he see, hear us?”
He answers through gritted teeth, “Lost the camera feeds before your attack. Thought there was a malfunction with the system.”
The way he speaks again suggests they were in no way prepared for any confrontation. Minimal, in my view, guards for a man so important as the boss, and when they lost sight and sound around the building, they ha
d simply put it down to circumstance, seeing nothing suspicious in it.
What the fuck is going on?
Hell catches my eye, his brow creases. He too, has picked up on the things which aren’t adding up. Kidnapping Violet; potentially killing Devils in the process, not caring whether they did or not; holding her prisoner… Even if they thought we’d never come here to look for her, there was always going to be an outside chance.
So why weren’t they ready and waiting?
Or are we the ones being set up? Lulled into a false sense of security before the actual attack. I don’t need to warn anyone. My men know what to do. They won’t be letting their guard down.
For now the questions must go unanswered; I need to concentrate on getting Lucio out of that safe room. “How do you contact him?”
A moment’s silence. Then, after Hell throws up his hands and starts to walk past mumbling, “I’ll find Pyro and get that explosive,” the soldier comes back to life.
“Intercom.”
He seems less tall than he had before, the rigid posture now missing. He’s resigned to his fate, should he fail to protect his boss. He walks over to the bookcase. “Behind the third book on the second to top shelf.”
I move the book. Finding a button, I press it. The bookcase slides back. There’s a solid door which looks like it should be guarding a bank vault behind it. Hell and I exchange glances. Even if Pyro had brought extra C4, the amount needed to blow a small hole in a brick wall would barely dent that steel. Lucky we have a man used to following orders, but not one used to thinking or issuing them.
To the side is indeed an intercom, with an old-fashioned phone attached to it. A clue that the guard had allowed some thought processes to work—the safe room must have been installed back in the sixties when the house had been built, and not updated. The date had been on the plans. He could have thought there was at least a possibility a modern bomb would destroy it.
“When I tell you, you explain to him it’s safe to come out.”
Satan's Devils MC Colorado Boxset 1 Books 1 - 3 Page 61
