by Bianca Cole
It’s hard to believe that the Irish and the Italian’s supply the stuff here, fighting against each other to sell.
A flood of panic twists at my gut when I see three men walk past with machine guns, patrolling the floor.
I shut my eyes, hoping that no one noticed I was awake. The last thing I want is to be tortured into telling them shit I don’t even fucking know. If they caught me because they want information, they are going to be disappointed. Milo hasn’t told me anything about his operations. I don’t even know where he runs everything from.
I hear someone clapping from behind. “Unfortunately, lass, I know you’re awake.” I swallow hard, wondering if it’s the guy that caught me at the airport. When he walks into view, I realize he isn’t one of the men that chased me.
He has short brown hair and a long brown beard, neatly trimmed and well kept. He is wearing a crisp white shirt and a pair of black pants.
“Who are you?” I ask, even though I think I know the answer.
He smirks at me. “Malachy McCarthy lass, I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”
I nod in response, feeling my stomach sinking further than I believed possible. “Yes, I have.”
His smirk is almost manic, and it makes his good looks unappealing. “Good.” He rubs his hands together. “I wonder how much you’ve heard about me.”
I swallow hard, wishing I did know the kind of man I was dealing with. In Sicily, everyone heard of Milo because of his family’s links with Palmero, but no one has heard of Malachy McCarthy. The look in his eyes suggests he’s not sound of mind. He looks insane.
“Only your name,” I respond.
He looks excited by the fact that I know nothing about him. “Oh good, I do love surprises.” He walks in a circle around me like a wolf sizing up his prey.
“What do you want?”
He chuckles as he circles back, standing in front of me. “Nothing from you, other than silence.” His eyes narrow. “How did you end up married to Milo, anyway?”
I grit my teeth and keep silent. This man has captured me, so I’m not sure why he’d want to know anything about our relationship.
“Now you’ve lost your voice?”
I shrug. “You said you want nothing from me but silence.”
He moves closer, leaning over me. “Unless I ask you a question. I get the feeling we aren’t going to get on too well, Mrs. Mazzeo.”
I hold my chin up high and look him in the eye. The last thing I want to do is show fear.
“I love the ones that come to me with hope. I love breaking it.” He slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out a razor blade, flipping it open.
It looks like the situation has taken a dark twist fast. I can’t say I’m surprised.
Malachy twirls the razor blade in front of me. “Do you expect your husband to come and save you, lass?” he asks, delight dancing in his emerald green eyes.
I shake my head. “No, I mean nothing to him.” I hate the sinking feeling in my stomach at admitting that. I hate that I care what Milo thinks at all.
Malachy’s smile drops. “Shame that. Is that why you tried to run back to Italy?”
I swallow hard, knowing that antagonizing this guy will result in pain. “Yes, I was trying to escape and go home.”
Malachy tilts his head slightly. “Is Milo as much of a bastard as I am when it comes to women, I wonder?” He walks closer to me and places the tip of the blade under my chin, using it to lift my head. “Maybe the two of us should experiment and see, heh?” He licks his lip. “You’re a beauty, lass.”
Fear takes hold of me at the thought of this man touching me. Milo is the only man I’ve ever been with, and the thought of any other man makes me sick to the stomach. Especially as I know this maniac would rape me without a second thought. I can see it in his crazed expression that he doesn’t care about right or wrong. “I don’t think that is necessary. He’s a bastard to me. Let’s leave it at that.”
Malachy laughs. “Do you think you have any say over what happens to you here?” He shakes his head, circling me. The cold metal of the razor blade lands on my shoulder. “I wonder what your pain threshold is.”
I shudder in anticipation of this man cutting me to pieces. There’s no doubt in my mind that he is capable of murdering me horrifically. The look in his eyes tells me he enjoys this too much.
“Where should I cut your pretty skin first?” he muses before pressing down hard into my shoulder and dragging the blade through my flesh. I cry out, unable to hold it in. The pain is unlike anything I’ve felt before as blood gushes down my shoulder and onto the shirt I’m wearing, soaking it a crimson red.
Malachy stands in front of me, looking like an excited kid on Christmas morning, ready to open all his gifts. The only razor blade.
I clench my jaw, trying to be brave as I stare at my captor. The last thing I need to do is give him the satisfaction of seeing how scared I am on the inside. I’m terrified, but I won’t let him know that. My father always warned me about situations like this, but with Aldo following me around all the time, I never believed it would happen.
I should have been more careful without my bodyguard, but I’m a fool. Running from Milo has landed me into the claws of a man worse than him.
He grabs hold of my other shoulder and brings the razor against my throat, cutting the skin. “I bet you wish you didn’t try to run from your husband now, don’t you lass?” He smells of whiskey as he towers over me. “By the looks of your perfect, creamy skin, he hasn’t been nearly as rough with you as he should have been.” He brings his face closer to mine. “He’s too soft on you. If you had been mine, you wouldn’t have run.”
Every single thing that comes out of this man’s mouth is laced with a threat, making my stomach churn.
He moves the razor to my collarbone and slices the skin there. It’s excruciating as he drags the blade slowly. I scream, unable to hold back.
Malachy releases me, smirking as he stands with my blood dripping from his razor blade onto the floor. He looks like he’s from a horror movie. Again, he’s an attractive man but rotten on the inside, a bit like Milo. Although, I know Milo is just damaged. God knows what is wrong with this man.
He circles me again, holding the bloody razor. “I think I need your clothes off so I can survey my options better.”
Cold dread slides through my veins at the thought of being naked in front of this man. He uses the blade to cut open my shirt, tearing it off with his hands.
I swallow hard at the disgusting, vicious look in his eyes. “You’re a pretty lass. I can see why Milo hasn’t ruined your goods yet.” He slides the razor under the right strap of my bra and cuts it free before doing the same on the other. It stays in place until he cuts the main strap around my chest.
Malachy looks at my breasts for a long moment, making me uncomfortable. “I am going to enjoy breaking you.” He places the razor just under my breasts and cuts a line in my skin, making me scream.
I feel woozy at the sight of blood, certain I’m going to pass out any moment.
This asshole notices the signs as he grabs hold of my chin forcefully, digging his nails into my face. “Don’t blackout on me, lass.” He shakes me enough to stop me from fainting. “The fun has hardly begun.” He steps back and twirls the knife in front of my face.
I swallow hard, knowing that if he cuts me much more, I won’t be able to stay conscious.
It’s a horrifying thought that I could pass out and have no idea what this psychopath is doing to me.
Suddenly, someone grabs Malachy’s shoulder and pulls him back.
Relief beyond anything I’ve ever felt floods me as I see Milo punch Malachy in the face. He came for me. I hate how butterflies flutter to life in my stomach.
The hope that perhaps Milo does feel something between us ignites again. It’s pathetic how desperate I am to be loved by a man that treated me so cruelly.
26
Milo
“You better have good n
ews for me, Angelo,” I say, answering my cell phone.
There’s a few moments of silence on the other end. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”
I grit my teeth. “Bad first.”
Angelo clears his throat. “Malachy is claiming to have Aida.”
It feels like my entire world is ripped out from under my feet. Suddenly, I’m spiraling. “Put a stop to Orfeo’s plan instantly,” I order, knowing that if we blow up Malachy McCarthy’s beloved car, he’ll do much worse than I can ever fathom to my wife.
Angelo is silent. “That brings me to the good news, although perhaps it will be bad news to you. Orfeo has already successfully destroyed the Corvette.”
“Cazzo,” I growl, throwing my cell phone at the wall.
It smashes into pieces. Piero clears his throat. “What is it, sir?”
I pace the length of my office without answering. Aida will be dead if I can’t get to her fast. Our timing couldn’t have been worse. “Malachy has Aida.”
“Fuck,” Piero says, running a hand through his short hair.
Malachy thinks he’s taken my possession that doesn’t mean much to me. The move makes me look weak, as though I can’t protect my property. Little does he know that he’s holding the only thing in this world that I give a shit about.
“Where do you think he will be holding her?” Piero asks.
I think on the question for a few moments, knowing my answer may sound obvious, but I know Malachy. He would select the most obvious place, knowing that we’d never suspect that’s where she’d be.
“The docks. I’m sure of it.”
Piero’s brow furrows. “You think he’d keep her somewhere that obvious?”
I smile at my capo, knowing he’s a lot to learn about the McCarthy clan’s leader. “That’s exactly the reason she will be there. Get together a team of four of our best men to accompany us to the docks.” I crack my neck. “We’re going to hit them hard right where it hurts. By the time I’m through with this Irish bastard, he’ll wish he never touched her.”
Piero’s eyes light up, and he nods. “On it, sir.”
I watch him as he gets out his cell phone to arrange the team.
My father was an asshole, but the last time war erupted, he was in charge. Although the war wasn’t with the Irish, it was with the Russians. He taught me a lesson that a leader should never step onto the battlefield of war, that we should always hide behind our soldiers.
I never agreed with the sentiment at the time, but this is the first time I’ve been faced with war since taking over eight years ago. There’s no way in hell that I’m sitting back and letting someone else save my wife. I’m the one who has to rescue her from Malachy and start making amends for hurting her every time she tries to get close to me. Hopefully, those bridges haven’t burned since I don’t care whether she loves me or hates me. Aida is mine and always will be.
Piero finishes the call. “Angelo, Tore, Pietro, and Ramon are on their way, sir. ETA ten minutes.” He glances at my desk. “Shall we work out a strategy before they arrive and study the map of the docks?”
I nod in response and sit down on the opposite side of the desk. “There are three places Malachy could keep her.”
I point at the main port warehouse that the Irish use to bring in their drugs.
Piero runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, that would be fun.”
“Yeah, it’s heavily guarded. That’s why I think Malachy would hold her there.” I crack my knuckles. “Malachy was used to working against my father, but he hasn’t had many run-ins with me.”
Piero nods. “You two think differently. I don’t wish to disrespect your father as he was a great leader, but you have the brains, sir.”
He’s right. My father was all brawn. His answer to everything was to attack first and think later. Hopefully, Malachy is underestimating my capacity to think how he thinks—to put myself in his shoes.
“Where are the other two places?” Piero asks.
I point at a small building on the shipyard in Boston. “This would be my second port of call, although I’m pretty confident she’ll be in their main warehouse.”
Piero sighs. “It would be easier if she were in the shipyard.”
I nod. “If Aida is not at either of these locations, then they will be holding Aida in the hotel Malachy owns at the docks.”
Piero nods in agreement. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. His hotel is like a fortress, and they have facial recognition CCTV installed.” He shakes his head. “We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I agree. Can you get James to bring the SUV around?” I ask.
Piero stands. “Yes, sir. I’ll come back for you once everyone has arrived.”
I don’t say anything as my capo leaves me alone in my office. The bottle of scotch on my dresser is calling to me, but I don’t pour myself a glass. If I’m going to pull this off, I need my mind clear.
Aida is counting on me, and I’ve let her down too many times already by pushing her away. I won’t let her down this time.
The docks are crawling with more Irish than I can count. Malachy has increased the warehouse’s security, which is expected during a war, but it suggests that Aida is inside.
Not to mention, Malachy is here too. His Chevy Impala is parked in front of the building.
“We didn’t bank on Malachy being here, sir. How are we going to proceed?” Tore asks.
I watch as more Irish enter the warehouse. “It won’t change anything.” I run a hand across the back of my neck. “I’m glad the bastard is here.”
“Is the plan unchanged?” Ramon asks.
“Yes, we must work as fast as possible. The sole intention is to recover Aida and get out.”
Piero clears his throat. “I worry that six of us are going to stand out. Maybe two would be a better idea?”
I consider Piero’s suggestion. He’s right that six of us marching in there would stand out more than two, but if things go wrong, we’re going to need backup. It’s a vital decision to make as we only get one shot at this.
“Compromise. I’ll go in first, followed by Piero and then Tore. The other three will wait outside in the car, but on the radio in case we need backup.”
Piero nods in agreement. “I think it’s safer, sir.”
“Give it two minutes before following and Tore two minutes after Piero. It’s the best way not to raise suspicion.”
Angelo clears his throat. “All due respect, sir, but don’t you think you’ll be the most recognizable of all of us?”
I glance at my lieutenant. “Possibly, but I won’t leave the rescue of my wife to another man.”
Angelo nods. “Fair enough. Good luck, sir.”
I get out of the car and pull the hood of my jacket over my head. The CCTV cameras are everywhere, but we found a blind spot to park the car.
Slowly, I walk toward the entrance of the warehouse without being spotted. There’s so many Irish hanging around. I doubt they’d expect an attack to come from one man in a hooded jacket. That’s why this is the perfect plan.
A guy nods at me as I walk through into the warehouse, and I nod back. The adrenaline racing through my veins makes me shake, but I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk through the warehouse.
A few of Malachy’s men know what I look like because of our meetings, but they would only be his higher-ranking men. I have to hope I can find Aida before Malachy spots me.
I walk against the wall of the warehouse, keeping in the shadows. The door opens at the far end, and I glance back to spot Piero entering. No one seems to bat an eyelid at him as he walks into the warehouse, taking the opposite route to me.
Malachy has so many men in his clan that they can’t all know each other.
A shrill scream from the back of the building catches my attention.
Aida.
I quicken my pace in desperation to get to her. The warehouse opens up at the back, and I see Malachy standing with his back to me, looming o
ver my wife.
Rage slams into me when I see the razor in his hand coated in her blood. Then I notice Aida is naked from the waist up, and all rational thoughts fly out the window. I don’t think about my next move. Instead, I act on instinct to protect what is mine.
Malachy doesn’t sense me coming as I grab his shoulder and pull him away from her, punching him hard in the nose.
“Bloody bastard,” he shouts, trying to bring a hand up to his nose.
Before he can reach it, I close my hand around his and squeeze so hard he growls. “You take what is mine and don’t expect me to come for it?” I ask, glaring into the eyes of the sadistic bastard that cut my wife.
He laughs, and that manic look in his eyes sends chills even down my spine. We’re trying to go to war with a psychopath, which will never end well. I thought I was fucked up, but Malachy McCarthy is crazier than me.
“Aye, you expect to blow up my favorite fucking car and get away with it?” he asks, jumping to his feet faster than I can react.
He comes at me like a viper. His fist connects with my jaw. I shake it off, stepping back to put distance between us.
Suddenly, he comes at me. His fist connects with my jaw. I shake it off, stepping back to put distance between us.
“You must care for this bitch to come for her yourself,” Malachy spits, trying to wind me up.
I won’t let him get under my skin. Facing off against him like this isn’t ideal, especially after what happened last time we fought. Malachy McCarthy is the undisputed bare-knuckle champion of Boston.
No one can defeat him, and I don’t like my chances of trying to beat him in a fight. I’ve tried before, and it didn’t end well. He’s a fucking savage and even bit a guy’s ear off one time during a street fight.
Maybe I didn’t plan this out well, but Piero or Tore can back me up if the fight goes south for me.
Malachy smirks at me as he wipes the blood from his nose. “This is going to be a fun fucking fight, lad.”
