Love. Respect. Trust. Loyalty.
Things a man and woman should feel and have for one another when they stood before an officiant and chained themselves together for life.
Something Nika would never again do as long as she lived. One shattered dream was enough for her, thanks very much.
If all went well, in a few short hours she would be free, and nothing—and no one—was going to take that away from her ever again.
Gabriel Moretti listened to Mikey, or, rather, Father Russo, as he spoke eloquently and too formally for his taste.
“Some say love strengthens man and woman, but I disagree. Love weakens you, makes the strong vulnerable, because another has been given the power to very simply destroy you . . .”
Fuuuck. He tuned it out. Didn’t need the recap. He was living it. Knew all about the power Eva now held over him. The power she now allowed his enemies—which he suddenly seemed to have coming out of the woodwork—to hold over him. Less than a month in and already he couldn’t count how many times that ultimate threat had been made.
Not a simple man-to-man “I’m gonna kill you.” Always the more cowardly “I’m gonna find your Russian woman and have lots of sex with her before I take her life.”
Not in those exact words, of course, but the idea was always the same. Eva’s body threatened and then her life. The one making the threat was neutralized immediately, by either his or Vincente’s hand, but the words continued to bounce around in Gabriel’s head for hours afterward. Because they proved that too many of those men they were weeding out of the organization had the thought to use the woman next to him as a way to send a message: they were unhappy with the changes he was making.
Yet here he was anyway, selfishly binding her to his side with a till-death-do-us-part.
“Trust. Respect. Loyalty. Three things in a marriage that are just as, if not more, important than the love a man and woman feel for one another. For betrayal of even one destroys all . . .”
Mikey went on. Man, it was hard to think of the kid as a respected priest when all Gabriel saw was the scrawny little brother of one of his high school buddies. He pictured the kid chasing a ball Lorenzo had thrown into the alley so his brother’s innocent ears wouldn’t hear Maksim talk about how he’d screwed the Mancini twins in the school bathroom during gym class.
When was the last time he’d seen Lore? He swallowed a snort. That’s right. The guy, now a proud NYPD detective, had been one of the first on the scene when Gabriel had called in his parents’ “murder.” They’d sat across from each other in his mother’s kitchen without saying a word. Lore had known as well as Gabriel that none of them were going to find a goddamned thing, not even when the feds showed to take over the case with their puffed-up chests.
The two of them had embraced in the backyard. You need anything, call me, Lore had said, even though they both knew it would never happen. But the offer had been a good one to hear. If you’re feeling really brave, go to Saint Luke’s and sit with Mikey for a while. Take care, Gabriel.
Gabriel had left for Seattle hours later and hadn’t looked back. Much.
Now here he was five years later, back in New York, back in the game, sitting on the goddamned Moretti family throne.
A bead of sweat rolled down his back. No doubt Lore, or someone in his department, had eyes on the house right now. Or as close to the house as Maksim’s security system would allow them to get. His lip curved.
“Honesty. Another important aspect of any relationship. Without it, you’re doomed. Why prove to the one you claim to love above all others that they are worthy only of your lies . . . ?”
Thank God there were no lies between him and Eva, he thought as he looked to the side to see her respectfully listening to Mikey. A part of her attention must have been on him, because she immediately glanced over. The easy smile she gave him before returning to the service was as gorgeous as always, making him marvel that in a few short minutes, she would be his wife.
His wife.
“Move it along, Mikey,” he interrupted. “We don’t have all night.”
Around Eva’s “Tsk,” the priest with the watchful, solemn gaze—even as a young kid—looked Gabriel straight in the eye and stated gravely, “No, we don’t. So let’s not waste what we do have, because one never knows when it will all be gone.”
Eva’s fingers tightened around his at the doom and gloom.
Gabriel scowled. “Keep the rest of it a little lighter than that, kid,” he warned with a kiss dropped to the top of his bride’s head. “No one needs reality intruding on a night like this. Got it?”
The grin Mikey flashed was sheepish. “Sorry, Gabe. I’ll save my apocalyptic warnings for my brother.”
He chuckled. “Do that. I’m sure he’s well prepared for whatever’s coming for us.”
The ceremony continued, rolling out effortlessly, but Gabriel still found it difficult to relax. And he wasn’t the only one. He checked out Vincente in his periphery. Guy looked as if he should be in uniform and saluting a general; he was so stiff.
A bright splash of color caught his eye, and he glanced to Eva’s left, where Nika stood flipping her hair over her shoulder in a gesture too measured for someone her age.
Ah, yes. Now he understood V’s problem. He and Nika had had a brief thing in Seattle before shit had hit the fan with Stefano a few weeks ago. Looked like the tension was still there between the two.
He smirked—been there, done that—and tuned in to the service.
Once the brief interruption passed—clearly the priest was a personal friend of the groom—Nika’s heart melted as Eva softy pledged herself to her man. Caleb handed the bride a tissue as Gabriel repeated his vows in a powerful voice. Nika then turned over the ring, and after someone from Gabriel’s side did the same thing—she didn’t look to see whether it was Maksim, Alek, or Vincente—the ceremony ended.
Nika breathed a sigh of relief and was first to hug Mrs. Gabriel Moretti. She wasn’t sure how many others got the opportunity before Gabriel snagged his wife by the hand and dragged her from the room.
“What the hell are you doing, Moretti?” Vasily growled at his new son-in-law.
Gabriel slowed to allow a smiling Eva to keep up in her narrow dress and high heels but didn’t look back as he veered left, aiming for a corridor off the foyer. “Need to see my wife in private for a few,” he said over his shoulder. “Start without us. We’ll be back.” Whoops and hollers from the men in the room followed.
Taking a discreet glance around, wondering if anyone would notice if she snuck off to change back into her gold dress, Nika pulled her wrap tighter. A morose Alek started up a conversation with the annoyed father of the bride. Quan smiled as he clinked glasses with the priest and Lucian—two heavies who looked as if they weren’t sure what that odd expression was on the Asian’s face. It’s a smile, boys, she projected. Caleb and Vex were circling around a buffet table laden with food. Her brother looked over and noticed her observing him. He tapped his plate and raised a brow. She shook her head, not ready to eat yet, and his mouth twisted as he headed over.
“You should eat something,” he said in a disapproving tone.
“I will in a minute.”
Not satisfied with that, he forked up a baby potato from his own plate for her to sample. Which she did because she didn’t want a lecture, and she nearly choked on it when she saw Vincente return to the room from wherever it was he’d gone. Good Lord. He was just too much, she thought, shivering at the sight of those dangerous black eyes hiding behind low-drawn lids. He’d grown a goatee since she’d seen him last, which lent to his intimidation factor—and was sexy as hell. This was also the first time she’d seen him without the leather duster he favored. If possible, he looked even more dangerous without the long coat swirling around his legs, probably because she had an unimpeded view of his solid body in the pants and dress shirt he
wore, both black. Like his long hair, which looked so silky she wanted to kick herself for not having touched it when she’d had the opportunity that day in Seattle. She should have run her fingers through it, at the very least. Maybe fisted it in her hands as she brought him closer and deepened the kiss—
Vincente glanced over on his way to join Maksim and another man she didn’t recognize, and she quickly looked away. She fiddled with her hair, twisting a lock around her finger as she tried to respond to Caleb’s question about the wedding.
Why did the sight of Vincente still give her that jolt? She breathed through the warmth invading her limbs and wished it would go away. It was pointless, after all. There was no future for her until she found Kevin’s evidence against Caleb. And even then, it would be a cold day in hell before she gave up her freedom for a man again.
Even one who sent her pulse racing with one glance and made a simple kiss as memorable as losing her virginity had been. And for all she knew, at this point, kissing might be all she was capable of anymore. When the time came to be intimate with a man again, would she freeze up? Or worse, freak out and have a tantrum because she’d be reminded of Kevin’s nauseating gropes?
She didn’t know, and she certainly wasn’t going to experiment with someone like Vincente Romani.
Vex joined them just as Nika’s cell buzzed against her hip bone, causing her stomach to bottom out and that little potato to make a large effort to come back up.
“Be right back.”
She walked away before they could say anything and remembered the bathroom Eva had pointed out earlier off the foyer near the front door. She practically ran there but wasn’t fast enough. The call went to voice mail. She lifted her skirt and slipped her cell out from the strap of her undies—the only place she’d had to carry it since she dared not leave it behind—and didn’t have to look at the screen to know who had called.
She quickly redialed Kevin’s number.
“Why aren’t you here? And why didn’t you answer?”
The furious demands had the hair on her nape zinging straight. “I’ll be back soon. It was a Catholic service, and you know how those can run long. They just finished.” She spoke quietly, hoping the walls were thick.
“You have twenty minutes.”
Her skin crawled at the unspoken threat. “It’ll take longer than that for me to get a—”
“Twenty. Minutes.”
“But even if I—”
“Twenty minutes!” Kevin shouted.
The volume of his voice in her ear had her eyes fluttering. “Okay. Okay,” she whispered.
After hanging up with him, she called for a cab and then left the bathroom, trying not to look as if she was rushing as she went up the stairs. Thank God Gabriel hadn’t brought Eva up here for their private celebration, she thought as she entered the couple’s bedroom, throwing off her wrap and unzipping her dress as she went. She dragged it down her body, cringing at the discomfort her jerky movements caused, and pushed it over her hips, nearly tripping because she was still walking. Making it to the bed, she stepped out of it and unzipped the garment bag to take out the dress she’d arrived in. Weird how she was more concerned that she might get blood on Eva’s gift than the fact that she would be the one bleeding in the next hour.
A sharp breath and deeply spoken curse made Nika shriek and spin around. She clutched the gold fabric as a shield in front of her nearly naked body, and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest as she looked into Vincente’s enraged features.
He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom—must have been inside when she’d entered the room, which was why she hadn’t seen him—holding a small gift wrapped in silver paper with a tiny bow on top.
And he’d just had a perfect view of the violent green-and-yellow bruises covering her back, triceps, and shoulders. Not to mention the even nastier evidence of Kevin’s previous beating on the small of her back and ribs.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
She was so shocked that he was there, that someone had seen what she’d tried so hard throughout the past year to hide, that her brain refused to work right. She struggled to come up with any possible reason for having the kinds of marks on her body that she did.
A car accident? Too obvious a lie.
A fall down the stairs? Didn’t have any in her apartment.
A mugging? Wasn’t allowed out of the apartment to be mugged.
“Er . . .” She had a last resort, but if there was any way around using it, she’d take it.
“Who did that to you?” His demand was a near whisper so dark the hair on her arms tingled. He came closer. “Was it him? Did your old man—” He squeezed his eyes shut with a pained look that turned ferocious, as if he were about to morph into the devil himself. “Holy Christ. He’s a fucking dead man.”
The words seemed to have been torn from his throat, and all she could do was stare at him. He was terrifying, yet she wasn’t frightened. In fact, his fury was so attractive to her, so welcome—to the part of her that yearned for a savior—that her limbs trembled with the need to launch herself into his arms and allow him to fight her battles for her.
“No,” she whispered, thinking of the lump she’d felt in the corner of the suitcase. “No, Vincente. This isn’t, um, what you think.” He couldn’t interfere now. Not when she was so close to ending this nightmare.
A clock ticked in the back of her mind. She had to go. The worst thing she could do was allow Kevin time to stew.
“Then you better tell me what it is, right fucking now, Red.”
He wasn’t looking at her but behind her, and she followed his gaze to see their reflection in the window, him towering over her nearly naked ass!
“Please turn around. Now,” she snapped when he didn’t comply immediately.
He swung away, and she jerked her dress over her head as thorns of anxiety sprouted along her spine, cutting in and making her bleed. Kevin was going to kill her for making him wait.
“Listen,” she said as she stepped away from him to wrap the green dress in the bag, more to keep her hands occupied than anything. “I have to get going and don’t have time to get into explanations right now, but I’m fine. Okay? It’s not a big deal.” Finished with her menial task, she went to brush by him, but he lifted an arm to stop her. Vincente didn’t touch her, just put that heavy limb up as though it were a railway crossing barricade sans the flashing lights.
She looked up at him through her lashes and felt a rush of embarrassment she had no reason to feel but did anyway. This was nothing like the dreams she’d had where she and Vincente were alone in a bedroom, touching, kissing as they slowly removed each other’s clothes . . . She barely held back her cringe. Well, they certainly hadn’t touched—he wouldn’t even allow his body to come into contact with hers to stop her from leaving—but he’d definitely seen her in her pretty fuchsia push-up and thong. Only instead of seeing a desirable woman, Vincente would have seen nothing but the ugly bruises and healing bumps that covered her body. If he’d been disgusted by her out by the pool, how must he feel now?
“You’re not going anywhere. Not until you talk to me.”
“Why would I talk to you when this really isn’t any of your business?” she said primly, attempting to work the now-you’ve-crossed-a-line angle. She failed—it sounded a little too hysterical.
“Moretti wants to know what’s taking you so—”
They both looked over to see Caleb halt in the doorway that led out to the hall. Nika wilted. Is this really happening? Is this really happening right now when I have to get the fuck out of here? I should have been long gone by now.
“There you are, Nik. What the fuck you doing, V?” Caleb asked, taking in Vincente’s stance, which clearly showed his refusal to let Nika pass.
“She’s marked.”
Caleb’s brows slammed down
as he came farther into the room. “What?”
“I accidentally walked in on her changing and saw—”
Nika aimed a kick at his expensive Italian leather shoe. “Shut. Up,” she said through gritted teeth. And then more clearly, “It’s nothing, Caleb. Vincente thinks he saw something he didn’t.”
“It looks like someone took a tire iron to her back.”
She gasped at the betrayal and glared up at the Neanderthal. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared back. The leather bands covering a small visible patch of a tattoo on his wide wrist caught her eye; the half-dozen worn strips were not fancy but for the small charm dangling off one of them. A precious silver angel, her wings flared as she bent over, smelling a bouquet of flowers. Why the sight of that dainty figure suddenly made Nika’s throat ache, even as her jaw ground together at this guy’s audacity, she didn’t know.
“Nik?” The note of alarm in her brother’s voice pulled at her heartstrings. “What’s he talking about?”
“Nothing,” she insisted. “It’s a bruise. Big deal.”
“Bruises. A lot of them,” Vincente supplied.
“Would you stop it?” She stomped her foot in frustration. As hard as she tried to come up with something acceptable to say, Nika’s mind remained as blank as a new chalkboard. So, steeling herself for a few minutes of untold embarrassment, she opened her mouth and nearly vomited around her next word.
“BDSM,” she shoved out of her constricted throat.
The silence that descended was how Nika imagined outer space would sound. Nothing registered in her ears but a buzz as her blood pressure steadily rose second by second.
“What did you say?” Caleb’s face took on an oddly confused look.
“Bondage and shit,” Vincente said.
“I know what it is,” Caleb barked, and, bless her brother’s beautiful heart, he screwed up his face, not believing it for a second. Not that there was anything wrong with the practice—
The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) Page 7