Taken: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Vanessa Waltz

  My nails ground into my palm. “You never wanted children.”

  “That was before I realized you’d run off with a guy willing to give you what I wouldn’t.” Nick flicked his cigarette and sighed, malice lacing his tone. “You could have asked.”

  “I did. You said no.”

  Thank fucking God.

  Nick’s jaw jumped with an angry tic. He hated being proven wrong, and even he couldn’t forget our fights. He’d broken my heart so many times by quipping that he’d rather jump off a bridge than be a dad.

  “It’s a bad idea.” Nick swallowed hard, his pupils reduced to dots. He rarely cracked his shell, but it suddenly blazed wide open. Discomfort poured from him in sickening waves. “I’ll be a shitty father.”

  I didn’t know what to say, because it was true.

  “Will you?”

  “Without a doubt.” Nick’s pale gaze raked me as he blew smoke through his nose. “I have no clue why you want them—why anyone wants them.”

  “Don’t you want to pass on your legacy?”

  “What do I have to pass on, Carmela? Getting so pissed I can’t see straight, and I wake up with a dead hooker in my bed?” Nick took another drag. “You knew exactly what I was, and you still begged for them. You’re the only girl who’s ever done that.”

  No shit.

  “I’m not father material, Beauty.” His giant hand wrapped my head, his fingers like ice. “You have to realize that.”

  “Then release me.” Please God, make this work. “If you don’t want them, that’s fine. I get it. I do. But I need to be a mom. I deserve that experience. You can’t take that from me.”

  His eyes gleamed with emotion.

  “Nick, it’s okay. You can let me go.”

  “I can’t.”

  He yanked me into his arms and gave me his version of a hug, which felt like a steel cage. He couldn’t give anybody warmth, because he didn’t possess any.

  Nick pulled away. “I’ll do it.”

  He kissed my temple.

  I wanted to vomit.

  Thirty-Two

  Michael

  I slammed the brakes and wedged open the door, leaving Vitale as I sprinted the bowl-shaped park. Pink leaves scattered the ground. A girl in a yellow T-shirt played in the sandbox. Everything was blue and green. Bright and happy. The world spun in a haze of children’s laughter and the groan of swings as I screamed for my kids.

  “Mariette!”

  It was like shouting into wind. I couldn’t hear myself. Only the rawness in my throat registered.

  “Matteo!”

  At the sound of my voice, Matteo always streaked from wherever and collided with my knees, but there was no pitter-patter of feet.

  I tore through the playground like a tornado. My gaze swept the lawn. I’d told Mariette to hide. That was probably what she was doing, but Carmela’s phone battery died one minute into the call.

  They had to be safe.

  A flash of gold grabbed my attention to the branch of a gigantic pine. I stared at the gap in twigs. Blonde hair peeked from the thicket of needles. I approached the group of trees and crouched. Two pairs of eyes gleamed. I parted the branches, and a body flew into my arms.

  I crushed my son with a giant hug, my insides collapsing. He pressed his tear-stained face into my neck and sobbed. My daughter crawled out from the tree, tears streaming down her chin. I grabbed her and yanked her into my chest.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did he hurt you?” I patted her stomach, her jeans, rolling over something hard and small. “What is that?”

  “The bad man gave it to me.”

  I pulled out a bullet.

  A rock swelled in my throat. It was like barbed wire cinching my heart. I clenched it in my fist, trembling. I found another in Matteo’s shirt pocket.

  He’d touched my kids.

  A red glaze coated my vision as I hiked Matteo to my hip.

  “Crash took Carmela, Daddy.” Mariette’s lip trembled. “Is she coming back?”

  “Yes, honey. I'll find her.”

  The bullets clinked. I pocketed them.

  I’d save them for his skull.

  Crash had seen his last sunrise.

  I couldn’t run after him.

  No matter how much I wanted to look for Carmela. I had to double security around my house, wait for my sister to come over, and then I could leave. Vinn had already put the word out, but since Rage Machine didn’t wear identifying colors and its member list was unknown, nobody knew where to search.

  Matteo wouldn’t be consoled. I balled him against my chest and covered his ears, hissing obscenities through the phone.

  “Make the judge sign a subpoena. Throttle him if you have to. We need his license plate. I don’t fucking care! Do it, or I’ll get you another reason to hate me.”

  Once I ended the call, there was nothing but Matteo’s soft crying. The full weight of Carmela’s kidnapping slammed into me. She’d sacrificed herself to spare them from that psychopath, who’d played me like an idiot. He’d scheduled that meeting, knowing I’d be distracted, and then he’d waltzed into the playground. Where was the soldier supposed to be watching her? Out buying a coffee. I’d have him killed.

  Crash had undone the stitching of my life and ripped my soul in half. The visual of his hand on her shoulder tormented me. The pain radiated to my teeth.

  I had to save my wife before he murdered her.

  That had to be part of his end game. A man who called himself Crash didn’t care about anyone. His ego wouldn’t be able to handle that she’d chosen me. He’d torture her, and then he’d kill the woman I loved.

  No.

  I had to find her.

  I couldn’t live without her.

  A chime echoed throughout the house, and I sprinted to the entryway. Liana. Fucking finally. I put down Matteo, who clung to my slacks. Tearing him off me was the hardest thing in the world. His screaming stabbed at me.

  “Matteo, what’s wrong?” She stepped through, her widened gaze filled with questions as she gathered Matteo in her arms. “Is he okay?”

  “Carmela was kidnapped.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have time for this. Vitale will drive you to a hotel. You’ll stay with the kids. Do not step a foot outside. Understand?”

  “Okay, okay,” she whispered. “But—”

  “I have to go after her.” I grabbed my keys. “Be safe.”

  “I’ll watch them. Don’t worry.”

  “If anything happens, take Mom and leave town. Ask Vinn for help.”

  Liana’s eyes beaded with tears as she gripped my shoulders. “Please don’t do whatever it is you’re planning.”

  “I have to.”

  “Your kids need you!”

  I wouldn’t accept that advice.

  I ripped out of her hands and headed out the door.

  “Michael, I love you! Be careful!”

  Outside, my cousin lounged beside the gate, phone mashed against his ear. Vinn ended his call, his stony face carved with a grim frown.

  “She’ll be all right.”

  Useless words, but I clung to them.

  I started the car.

  “Everybody is on this, Mike. We’ll find her and Anthony. Let’s head to Legion.”

  “We’re past the point of negotiations.”

  “Oh, I don’t plan on talking.” Vinn’s nudged the duffel bag in the passenger side. He unzipped it and slid an H&K MP5 from the black depths. “There’s a suppressor and a folding stock.”

  “You want to shoot up the clubhouse?”

  “Crash has been a problem for years. Now he’s broken off with that sock-puppet club and Legion does nothing but sit on their ass. The city is in an uproar with bombings, dead civilians, and now he’s taken your wife. I’m sending them a message. If they don’t put down their rabid dog, I’ll be back with more guns.”

  “Fine by me. I’ll drive.”

  A
heavy silence blanketed the car as I drove in the clubhouse’s direction. Vinn screwed on the suppressor and armed the H&K, balancing it over his thigh. Once we approached the strip mall, Vinn rolled down the window.

  “We’ll do a couple passes.”

  I flipped the turn signal. “Make sure you get their fucking bikes.”

  Thirty-Three

  Carmela

  As the wind dried my face, I dwelled on the night we met. I’d gone to a dive to drink. Dad had just informed me that I was arranged to marry Alessio Salvatore, a gangster with a violent reputation. I had no interest in walking down the aisle with him.

  So I’d escaped to a bar.

  Two drinks in, a biker slid into my booth. His thighs barely fit under the table. He shoved a cocktail into my hands—something fruity. He’d blocked my escape, but all I remembered was the giddiness of being seen by a man like him. The diamond tattoo with the one-percent should’ve turned me off, but the liquor had muddled my senses and sparks flew when he anchored his arm across my shoulders. I liked that he was so forward. I loved that he didn’t care whose daughter I was.

  We had nothing in common. He listened to heavy metal. That was the only music I couldn’t stand. He had no family. I was all about mine. He was a playboy. I’d never had a boyfriend. We went together like olive oil and whiskey, but that didn’t stop us from falling for each other.

  A half-hour later, I hopped on his bike. He whisked me from my bodyguards and brought me to his home, where he took my virginity. I lay in his arms while he smoked. Then he told me I was his old lady, and that he’d never let me go.

  Nick still looked at me with that unblinking stare that shot my heart with panic that I’d previously mistaken for excitement.

  We stopped in a wooded area west of Boston. The scent of pine clung to the air. Nick cut the engine and removed his helmet.

  I slid off the bike.

  He escorted me to the ranch-style house. Nick’s boots creaked the wooden floorboards as he opened a rusted door. His fingers brushed my ass as I walked inside, and a chill iced my spine when his body pressed into my back.

  “Remember what we talked about. You will behave.”

  Michael had made a similar comment, but there was zero playfulness behind Nick’s words.

  “You don’t like it when I behave.”

  “I’m not in the mood to deal with your sass.”

  “I thought you liked that about me,” I snapped. “Or why did you take me?”

  “Because I love you, you crazy cunt. I will never let another man come between us.”

  “I never asked to be saved.”

  “That’s what I like about you.” Nick bumped me into the wall, his kiss like steel. “Not many girls could survive being my old lady, but you’re tough.”

  When I left him, I sure as hell didn’t feel strong.

  His thick fingers smacked my cheek, and it smarted, but that was nothing new. He’d hurt me all the time. Nick’s hand swallowed mine as he pushed me into a living room converted into a bar. The home was ransacked. Smoke stains crawled the walls. Glass crunched under my feet. Cigarette burns marked the carpet.

  “What is this place?”

  “A temporary holdout. We’ll move somewhere else tomorrow.”

  Smashed portraits of a wholesome-looking family lined the floors. Nick took one, smiling. He tapped at the polo-wearing man.

  “This was his house.”

  Obviously. “What happened to him?”

  “He wouldn’t let us camp on his land, so we shot him.”

  My heart throbbed in my throat. “And his wife?”

  “I sold her.”

  “Sold? As in, trafficked?”

  “It’s better than leaving a body, and I make decent cash with the flesh market. It’s a big business.” He tossed the portrait in the fireplace filled with crumpled cans. The frame shattered in a cloud of ash.

  My horror at Crash trafficking human beings barely registered. I couldn't process anything.

  “Is that what you’ll do to me?”

  Nick’s mouth thinned. “You’re not for sale.”

  Was he lying?

  “You don’t believe me,” he mused with a laugh. “Would I start a war just to let you suck another guy’s cock?”

  Men in leather cuts greeted Nick, who gave them a magnanimous wave. As we sat at a square table removed from the chaos, a woman slid a beer in front of Nick. She wore a Metallica tank top over cut-offs. Tattoos covered her thighs and arms. She leaned over, pawing his shoulder.

  Michael’s face popped into my head, and a dozen other memories of being held by him, his touch, smell, mouth, everything that comforted me, lodged in my throat and swelled.

  Being stuck with this asshole reminded me of what Nick had always lacked, of what Michael possessed endlessly—warmth, loyalty, and love. Real love, not this toxic obsession.

  I missed him.

  I needed my husband.

  In my misery, I imagined him bursting through the door. I saw Nick's skull exploding and Michael yanking me into the shelter of his arms. A world without him seemed lifeless.

  I wiped my eyes as the girl slid a drink in front of me. The temptation of numbed senses was too strong. I gulped it, shaking.

  A frigid hand dragged me across the table, toward the man I loathed.

  “I'm sorry that I didn’t put it together. You and Costa made no sense. I knew it wasn’t right. You’d never betray me. When I found out the truth, you were unreachable.” His voice dropped, husky-soft. “I had no idea you were forced.”

  He still thought Michael was the villain.

  Psycho. “I wasn't forced. We had an arrangement.”

  “Baby, come on. You’re smarter than this. The guy had complete control over you.”

  I balled my fists, seething. “You should have stayed away, Nick. There will be major consequences for taking me.”

  “We wouldn’t have them if you stopped running.”

  The worst thing I could do was submit.

  He hated easy prey.

  “Which is it, asshole? Was it Michael's fault or mine?”

  “Both," he snarled. "You had opportunities to call me.”

  I couldn’t face apologizing to this piece of shit. “You’re the last person I’d ask for help. I had to leave you. You were going to kill me.”

  “I’d never do that.”

  He was in serious denial.

  “Nick, what are your plans? Now that you have me, what will you do?”

  “For starters, I want to get that guy’s stench off my woman.” He wrenched my hand. I flew out of the seat, and he tugged me on his lap. His breath gusted my ear. “Then I’ll find that prick. Kill him. His family. All of them. Every single Costa.”

  “You can't.”

  “I'd do anything for you.”

  His mouth swallowed mine.

  I thought of pretending he was my husband, that his touch didn't disgust me, that the clove invading me was Michael’s fresh taste, and that his eyes swirled with amber instead of green. I tried to imagine Michael’s lips, his body, his stubble tickling my skin.

  No.

  Michael was in my heart. Faking with Nick was impossible.

  I couldn’t do it.

  I wouldn’t.

  He dragged me upright. He made an anguished noise as he backed me across the room. I struck a column, pain radiating up my spine as Nick mauled me. Then we switched positions, and he pulled me. He broke away to kick a chair aside on his way to the bedroom.

  “No—no.”

  He groped at my zipper.

  “No.”

  The door slammed. My back knocked the wall. Nick tore off his leather cut and threw it into the corner. The sound shot my belly with fear. Then he yanked off the plaid, pressing his naked chest into me.

  “Nick, no!”

  I slapped him.

  His palm slammed into my cheek, throwing me onto the bed. A hammer-like ache pounded my skull as he sank into the mattress.

/>   Fingers rolled in my hair as he ripped my head backward. “Don’t do that again.”

  “You wouldn’t stop.”

  “You are a pain in the ass, Carmela. What is wrong with you? Did Costa slap you around? Did he hurt you?” Nick’s voice lowered into a hush. “He did, didn’t he? That’s why you’re so fucked up.”

  How delusional was this guy?

  “Never.” I met his furrowed gaze, my fists clenched. “He never hit me. He’s good to me.”

  “Good.” He smiled, caging me with his arms. “The man who threatened your father and forced you into marriage is good?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are batshit crazy.”

  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one in love with her kidnapper.”

  Me? In love with Michael?

  The thought stabbed me, the white-hot blade of those words slicing open my denial. I couldn’t deny it.

  I loved Michael.

  God, I loved him. I really did.

  I couldn’t live without our lazy afternoons, the corny jokes, his quirks and his back hugs. I loved him so much that I wanted my ashes spread with his so we could always be together. He’d brought light into my darkness. He’d breathed air into my lungs.

  Another thought that gut-punched me.

  Michael loved me, too.

  And I hadn't said it back.

  It was like a fist clenching my throat. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I sobbed. I clutched my face, but I’d never been able to hide a single thing from Nick, and now he knew. He’d kill me.

  “Seeing you like this wrecks me. He fucked you up.” Nick cradled my jaw, his calluses rubbing my skin. “I’ll fix you.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get you through this.”

  My throat tightened as he unzipped me.

  “I’ll help you forget him.”

  Even if I lived in Nick’s dungeon for the rest of my days, the warmth of my husband's love would never leave me.

  Nick descended over me. His pulse bumped my chest, an unfortunate reminder that he had a heart. He pulled down my dress. His appreciative groan made my stomach churn. The moan deepened into an angry grunt. Nick hung over me, glaring. He pressed a thumb into a red mark. He hissed, straightening.