Fallen: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men of Mayhem Book 4)

by Kristen Luciani

  If I don’t leave now, if I don’t turn away and walk in the opposite direction right at this second, my destination will be set, and it’s a bad place that you can only get to courtesy of the Downward Spiral Express.

  I have to stay the hell off of that runaway train.

  I’ve ridden it and crashed too many times before.

  “Thank you,” she whispers before shifting her body away from me.

  I guess I didn’t have to worry about leaving.

  Since she already did the hard work for me.

  I back out of the room, fisting my hair as I storm out of the facility.

  I don’t care who she is or where she goes.

  I don’t care what happens to her next.

  I do care about my own ass, though, and I need to make sure it’s not on the cartel’s radar.

  I’m in the middle of a war, dammit!

  I push open the door and walk over to my car with a quick look around the darkened parking lot. Heavy metal music blares from deep within my pocket and I grab my phone, stabbing the accept button.

  “Yeah?”

  “Vince, I’ve got the information you needed.” It’s Alek. About fucking time. I need a distraction. Villani needs my help. Correction, he wants my help, which is more than I can say for Jane Doe.

  I scrub a hand down the front of my face.

  I sound like a total pussy right now. I’m not some scorned guy, for Christ’s sake!

  Another bad look for me.

  “Okay, what have you got?” I unclick my alarm and get into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition.

  “The guy you asked me about, Lovrić? He and his brother, Nikola, run a huge sex trade out of Croatia. They have their biggest clients in Asia and the Middle East, but they’re expanding into western Europe. Specifically in Italy and Sicily.”

  “Great,” I let out a groan. “How many sex traffickers have we battled over the past few years? I thought we’d crushed the big players.”

  “You know how this works. It’s a huge business. There are always other rings popping up. And you know how important it is to keep them away from our territories.”

  “What else?”

  “Mirko Lovrić, the husband of Villani’s cousin, showed up in Sicily a couple of days ago. Through the port of Marsala.”

  Marsala. That’s the next town over from here. “Shit, that means he must know his wife and daughter are in Sicily, too.” I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. “Any word on Maria and Aria Lovrić? Those are the names we’re looking for.”

  “Nothing yet. But I did some searching and found recent pictures. I’ve already circulated them around to the other ports just in case they came in a different way. I’m texting them to you now.”

  “Do I look like a fucking private investigator?” I grumble as my phone pings with the incoming images. “I just told Villani I’d help him find them. I don’t want to get in any deeper than that.”

  A pause follows. “Vince, are you kidding me? You’re business associates. You battle drug cartels. You’re building a resort together, for Christ’s sake. Bottom line? You’re Villani’s ally and you’re already in deep, which means we’re all right there with you. So thanks for that, bro,” Alek says, his voice grave. “And these guys, Vince.” He lets out a low whistle. “They’re bad news. You thought Nic Fortunato was bad? He was Santa Claus in comparison to these sadistic fucks.”

  “Do me a favor,” I say, rubbing my temples. “Keep this quiet for now. Don’t tell anyone in our families yet. I need to figure out how to keep us away from whatever quicksand Villani is about to sink into. I don’t want any of this to touch us.”

  “Wow, you’re an optimistic fuck,” Alek grunts. “Do you really think you can escape this impending shit storm without getting yourself covered in it? From what I know of this guy, he’s not gonna rest until he finds his family. And God only knows what he’ll do when he does. Don’t even get me started on what he’ll do to anyone who gets in his way.” Alek pauses. “I can send you some pictures of that, too, if you need them.”

  “Thanks, but I think you’ve given me more than enough,” I mutter. “Like I don’t have enough to worry about with Salazar and the Guerra Cartel that’s trying to bleed us dry. I thought I was making the right call for us by working with them, and now…” I groan. “The hole just keeps getting deeper and I need to figure out how to dig us out of it.”

  “It’ll never be over, Vince. You know that.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “You know, for all the shit my father caused, for all the enemies he made, he still knew how to pick the right partners when he was alive. He knew people, saw what they were all about at the first meeting.”

  “With the life we lead? That is a gift,” Alek says. “But very few people have it. Oh yeah, they may think they do, but let’s face it. Everyone has an agenda, whether or not they share it with you, so you need to look past the smoke screens and see things clearly if you’re gonna win these wars. All it takes is one wrong decision. One bad call, and everything goes up in smoke. Christ only knows, I’ve had my own share of fuck-ups.” He lets out a deep sigh. “You may think you know people. You may think you can see their intentions, but trust me, it ain’t easy to do. I know what you’re going through, Vince. I’ve been where you are, questioning every move I’m gonna make, battling with my brothers and sister because they’re all attack first, think never.”

  “Sounds familiar,” I mutter. Our families may not be related by blood, but Jesus, they’re poured from the same molds. Evidently we’re all bloodthirsty savages, which can be good sometimes. But other times? Not so much.

  “But you still need to remember that you’re the boss,” Alek says. “Let them call you a controlling prick.” He smiles. “I get that a lot, but at the end of the day, they know who saves the day, yeah?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “We’re family, Vince, and I’ll always have your back.”

  “Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.” I lean forward with my head in my hands. My temples throb because even before he says the words, I can predict them.

  “Yeah, and it’s a big one. Don’t lose focus for a single second. We may have chopped off one head years back in Monaco, but you know plenty more will pop up in its place. So be ready. And trust nobody.”

  Those final words.

  I already know they’ll be back to haunt me at some point.

  Here’s an even bigger ‘but’.

  Fucking hindsight’s always twenty-twenty.

  “Listen, I appreciate you sending me all of this. Lemme process it and I’ll call you in the morning.” I click to end the call and lean my head against the leather cushion.

  I just need to get to my villa and figure out my next steps. I’ll create a plan. I’m great at making plans! King of strategy and all that crap. I owe Villani for what he did, for helping my family take down a brutal drug lord. That’s why I agreed to help him find his family.

  And you always pay your debts.

  It’s part of the code.

  I can help him and stay clear of any aftermath.

  I will find a way, goddammit!

  There’s no way I’m going to let my family crash and burn with anyone, ally or not.

  I hold the phone up to my face, squinting at the first picture. Must be the mother. It’s an older woman, streaked blonde hair, blue eyes, stoic face. She’s beautiful but sad. Worn. Her pinched expression tells me everything I need to know.

  I save the image and open the next one.

  My breath hitches when I look into those dark, cobalt blue eyes.

  There are no streaks of dirt smudging her cheeks, no streams of blood caked on the side of her face, but the eyes…

  They’re the eyes of Jane Doe.

  Or rather, Aria Lovrić.

  Nobody ever thinks about the consequences!

  And there’s that hindsight back to haunt me.

  Argh!

  Fuck my life!

 
; Chapter Five

  Aria

  “That’s a nasty bump you’ve got there, young lady,” Dr. Sil says, peering into my eyes with a tiny light. “How’s your head feeling? Still dizzy?”

  “A little. I’m better than I was before I passed out.”

  But really, that’s a bunch of bullshit.

  I’m worse. Way worse.

  There is a group of savage bastards out there, sniffing out my blood at my father’s request and eager to exterminate me on his behalf.

  All because I betrayed him.

  And to Father, that’s a fate punishable not only by death, but preceded by extreme torture and torment.

  He doesn’t give a damn that said traitor is his daughter.

  Mercy?

  There’s no such word in his vocabulary.

  Sure, he can charm the panties off a nun, but behind his rugged good looks, syrupy smooth voice, and charismatic demeanor lies the black heart of a demon.

  I’ve seen him transform from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde plenty of times in my life, most often when I’ve tried to dig beyond the bullshit façade he wears for everyone he meets. As if he could actually be a loving, doting father and devoted husband, instead of the evil, deviant murderer I now know he is.

  Mama found out too late and spent the past twenty years in a luxurious prison because he threatened to kill me and everyone else she loved if she dared defy him and do the unthinkable.

  Escape his clutches.

  She was his trophy, and for all intents and purposes, he needed her to keep his image squeaky clean.

  A perfect wife, a perfect daughter, a perfect family.

  All lies!

  I grit my teeth to keep the tears from pouring out of my eyes.

  But the tingling sensation in my nostrils tells me there isn’t much I can do to stop them.

  Just like there was nothing I could do to stop my father from destroying Mama’s chance to save herself from his torture, her one opportunity to finally live the life she deserved.

  Away from him and the hell he put her through every day for the last twenty years.

  Guilt clenches my heart.

  She’s dead because of me, because I exposed the vile man my father truly is. That mask of his crumbled like a stale cookie when his entire world imploded, and that distraction was exactly what we needed in order to escape his clutches. While he was picking up the pieces of his shattered reputation and livelihood, we fled. We ran, fast and hard, never looking back once. We left everything behind…money, clothes, jewelry. Material things that looked beautiful to the eye but shielded the rest of the world from the malice that is Mirko Lovrić.

  My goal was simple. Save those who can’t save themselves.

  In a harsh twist of irony, I couldn’t do that for the one person whom I wanted to save more than anyone else.

  I’m lucky I made it out of that house alive hours ago.

  At least, I think it was hours ago. I don’t even know what day it is anymore.

  I don’t really care, either.

  And even though I found a moped to help me evade my own demise, I know my window is closing because my father is one persistent motherfucker.

  A persistent motherfucker whom I just tried to kill.

  Tried to kill.

  In other words, failed to kill.

  How stupid am I?

  I should know by now that evil never dies.

  Dr. Sil works quickly and quietly, leaving me to my own toxic thoughts. He eyes me with curiosity and tries to make small talk. I force smiles and head bobs to show some indication that I’m listening, which I’m not.

  How can I, when my entire life has just gone up in flames?

  Actually, that’s an understatement.

  Right now, I’m standing in the middle of a raging inferno and complete incineration is imminent.

  I’ve already lost the most important person in my life, the one person who always tried to shield me from the man my father really is. We were supposed to come to Sicily to start a new life together, leaving all of the horrors behind.

  It wasn’t even a day before he foiled our plans and took Mama away.

  A chill zips down my spine, and I clutch a blanket around my shoulders. The vent above blows cool air directly at me, making my shoulders shake and my teeth chatter.

  To be honest, it could be the frigid gust, but I think it’s more the fact that my father is still out there, on the hunt for me. And I know damn well he isn’t working alone, the mere thought of his one trusted partner helping him makes bile rise in my throat.

  I have one lifeline left.

  One.

  Mama’s cousin, Paolo Villani.

  But will he help me once he finds out about all the baggage I’ve lugged over here from Croatia?

  Something tells me there will be limits to his loyalty, no matter what Mama promised. The address and phone number is pinned to the inside of my jacket pocket, and I guess I’ll find out soon enough just how deep-seated the roots of obligation and loyalty are for my mother’s Sicilian family.

  Will they accept me?

  Or will they resent me for letting her die?

  I swallow the sob rising in my throat.

  I force my eyes to scout the room as Dr. Sil patches up the side of my head. He gently moves my arm from its spot plastered against my side and peels away my jacket. “Can you lift your shirt for me so I can get a closer look?”

  I nod, my fingers trembling as I lift it and he murmurs something to himself in Italian, turning away to grab some supplies from his table. He doesn’t ask about the stab wound on my left side — nothing about how, why, or where it happened, which I appreciate.

  “There must have been something sharp that sliced into you when you crashed that moped,” he says with a knowing look. “Maybe a piece of jagged metal or plastic.”

  “That must be it,” I say. We both know he’s full of crap.

  I was stabbed, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that the blade didn’t make it deeper than the surface.

  “You know, this is a safe place,” he says in a soft voice, cleaning my wound with some gauze. “Whatever you were running from…none of it can hurt you here. I promise you that.”

  Ha! So he says.

  And unfortunately, I’m all too familiar with the concept of empty promises.

  Right now, discretion is the only thing keeping me alive.

  But once the doctor is done stitching me up?

  I’ll have nothing but hope and a prayer that my mother’s cousin will answer his phone at this ungodly hour and pick me up from wherever the fuck I am right now.

  Oh yeah, and that he’ll let me, a complete stranger with a hefty price on her head, stay with him so I can figure out a plan for how to live the rest of my goddamn life after I completely fucked it up only days earlier. I blink back the tears, clenching my fists.

  No, I can’t think about that now!

  The terrified faces, the piercing screams, and the blood…

  God, there was so much blood.

  I blink fast to keep the tears at bay, my eyes now focused on the empty doorway. My chest tightens when the image of Vincenzo’s face floats in front of my eyes.

  I told him to leave and rejected his attempts to help, even though I wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped tight around me once again. I’d never before felt so safe and so protected in the arms of a man.

  But I had to send him away.

  Anyone can be bought, and my father has plenty of money to dangle in front of people.

  My only shot at survival outside of these sterile walls is remaining anonymous and hidden.

  That means getting the hell out of Trapani as soon as possible.

  And leaving behind any and all thoughts of the man who saved my life.

  Chapter Six

  Vincenzo

  I barrel back through the door of Sil’s facility after my conversation with Alek and a little more reconnaissance on my end. This girl, Aria, is in serious trou
ble.

  I should call Villani, to at least ease his mind, but I can’t alert Uncle Sil. Yeah, he’s blood, but money talks and we’re all in business to make it. I just need to get Aria out of here as soon as possible. Once she’s safe with me, away from anyone who can find and hurt her, then I’ll make the call.

  I’ve just gotten word from a friend of mine who’s an officer with the Municipio de Trapani and it’s not good.

  Correction.

  It’s bad. Very fucking bad.

  He said a bloodbath erupted only hours earlier in a remote house buried in a wooded area off the coast.

  More specifically, the area where I found Aria and her shattered moped.

  There were no survivors left when they arrived, which means Mirko is still very much alive.

  Unfortunately, that’s more than I can say about his wife, Maria.

  The other casualties were known Croatian sex traffickers.

  Pieces of the puzzle are falling together with rapid speed, and all indications point to the fact that Aria and her mother warded off these guys on their own, with Mirko no doubt leading the charge.

  My blood simmers at the thought of anyone attacking Aria, but her own father? What kind of sick, sadistic bastard is he?

  I grit my teeth. Based on what I’ve just heard, I already know, and I am going to enjoy dismembering the fucker when he shows up again, that’s for sure.

  Because he will show up again.

  The twisted ones always do until they get what they want, or until they are killed.

  And right now, I’m about to make myself a pretty major obstacle.

  Consequences?

  Goddammit.

  I’m drowning in them.

  I sold my soul the second I agreed to work with Villani, and now I’m in this alongside of him because one hand always washes the other.

  Battling drug cartels and sex traffickers.

  It’s become the story of my life, but the ending is going to be on my terms.

  I jog back to the exam room and turn away just as quickly.

  Christ, I didn’t need to see that.