Hitman's Bride (Bad Boy Empire)

by Vanessa Waltz

  “I won’t deny that she came to me and asked me to do this for her.”

  Johnny smiles bitterly.

  “But I never took a dime from her, and she is carrying my kid. That’s a fact. You want to believe a fucking Yankee over me, that’s your fucking problem.”

  The boss’ eyes flash dangerously. “I’m not convinced. Your wife gave quite a performance outside, when I know for a fact she left your apartment willingly because I had Tommy watch the place.”

  A knock at the door disturbs us, but I’m almost grateful for the intrusion. The tension between the two men is red hot, and deadly. The veins in Tony’s neck stick out as if he was screaming. He turns around and snarls at the door.

  “What?”

  “Police, open the door!”

  “Who the fuck let them in the restaurant?”

  There’s a brief moment of silence before the officer knocks on the door again. Having no choice, Tony stands up and opens the door. Men in blue stand at the threshold, Johnny’s men not far behind them.

  “Tony Vidal?”

  My husband crosses his arms. “That’s me.”

  “You’re under arrest.”

  TONY

  Elena’s face pales as they slap handcuffs around my wrists.

  I grimace as the prick cop yanks on them. “What the fuck for?”

  “Attempted murder.”

  “Attempted murder? On who?”

  He ignores my question and reads me my rights as drags me from the office, Johnny’s malevolent face fixed on Elena. No, I can’t leave her right now. I can’t fucking go to jail right now.

  This couldn’t come at a worse fucking time. Johnny’s eyes narrow dangerously at me. He’s thinking that I fucked up and didn’t get rid of one of the bodies correctly, but there’s no fucking way.

  She charges to the officer and steps in front of us, blocking the way. “Who filed the charges?”

  “Ma’am, you’re blocking the way.”

  She screams at the officer, making the guys behind her laugh. “WHO IS IT? It’s Rafael, isn’t it? Rafael Costa?”

  The officer’s blank face betrays nothing, but my heart sinks as I hear the tremble in her voice. Fuck, she’s right. That fucking cock-sucking, good-for-nothing asshole has me right where he wants. She thought he was going to put her in jail, but it was really me he was planning to fuck over. Just so that he could have a clear shot at my wife.

  “No, it’s me—I’m—”

  “Shut the hell up!” I turn to Johnny, who stands next to her. “Johnny, take her away from here.”

  That’s all I fucking need. My wife to confess to shooting Rafael’s worthless body.

  I catch Tommy’s eye desperately as I turn around. “Tommy, please. Keep my wife safe until I’m out.”

  He opens his mouth but I don’t hear his reply when I’m hauled out of the restaurant. The cold bites my cheeks and my eyes burn instantly, and I think of her, surrounded by wolves.

  * * *

  I’m going to kill that prick.

  When I find you, you rat fuck—

  I can’t even finish the sentence, because every method of torture I can think of is too good for that asshole. The dank cell echoes with my footsteps as I pace along its length. I’m stuck in here while Rafael is free to do God knows what to my wife, and who knows if Johnny will even intervene to help her.

  My throat closes at the thought, and I grasp the bars. The rust clings to my hands like dirt, and I think about Elena’s broken face as I was led out of that restaurant in cuffs. I hate this. Why the fuck did they have to cuff me in front of her?

  The door to the prison cell cracks open. “Tony Vidal, lawyer!”

  Fuck, the last person I give a shit about seeing. He’s a sharply dressed Jew, a guy the mob keeps on retainer.

  “When the fuck can I get out?”

  “Unfortunately, the judge won’t grant you a bail given your—eh, history.”

  Fucking hell. I knew it.

  It’s not a huge problem. I’ll have to grease the judge.

  “Who’s the judge?”

  He glances at some sheets of paper. “Judge Giuliani.”

  Inwardly I smirk to myself. He’s known to us because he nearly always accepts a well-paid bribe. It’s tricky, though. I can’t just fucking hand it to him, and there’s no fucking way Johnny will front the cash for me, especially after what happened.

  Elena, hang in there. Please.

  My lawyer leaves, and I make a phone call to one of my associates, who agrees to send the bribe for me. Then it’s back to pacing in this fucking cell, and going out of my mind with worry. I smash my fist into the bars, rattling this fucking cage. My wife—Jesus—what’s going to happen to her?

  “Tony Vidal, visitor!”

  The guard yells into the room as the door unlocks, admitting a man. Please fucking tell me it’s John. He steps into the light, a predatory smile spreading over his thin face.

  “You fucking crazy moron.”

  Rafael came to visit me in jail. I cannot fucking believe this.

  I clench the bars and boil with rage. He’s so close—so fucking close. Rafael approaches the bars, almost close enough for me to reach his fucking neck.

  “Before you spend the next decade rotting in jail, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be getting my dick wet with your wife.”

  “FUCK YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” I slam my body against the bars, determined to force them apart.

  His laughter reverberates throughout the room, echoing horribly in my ears. “She’s in my car. The little bitch came running for me the moment you were arrested. Turns out, she’ll suck anyone’s cock for a favor.”

  The banging of my fists against the bars clashes with his horrible laughter. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. Still a nasty feeling rises up my throat.

  “She wants me to drop the charges.” He sucks on his bottom lip and rolls his eyes as if in ecstasy. “But why should I let go of a pussy that sweet? She fits around my cock like a damn glove.”

  I stand there, shaking with all the energy coursing through my veins.

  “When I get out of here, the first thing I’m going to do is rip off your balls and boil them in motor oil.”

  He smirks at me and takes a step backward. “Careful. You don’t want them to hear you saying that.”

  My fingers curl around the bars. “Touch my wife again—”

  “And you’ll what? Hit the bars?” He gets close enough so that his breath billows across my face. “Face it, fuckwad. She belongs to me. There’s no coincidence that she left me right around the time she got pregnant.”

  I laugh at the logic spinning this brain. This guy is as crazy as he is dangerous. “She chose me.”

  “Maybe, but I’m taking her back.”

  He turns away from me, giving me a final grin over his shoulder as he walks to the door and pounds it. The bars vibrate, rattling like gongs as I tear into them, screaming until my voice is hoarse, until I can’t even make out what the fuck I’m screaming.

  * * *

  My fist smashes against the door and it flies open, banging against the opposite wall. Wise guys look over their shoulders at the intrusion, scowling at me for letting the cold air inside. I power through the bar, only having eyes for the man behind the counter, who looks up at me with a smile.

  “Hey, Tony. You got out fast.”

  I push the waitress who offers me a drink aside and grab his collar as his face barely registers surprise, slamming him against the wall.

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  The bottles rattle behind him as he gives me a venomous look. “How the fuck should I know?”

  “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?”

  I shove his chest hard, and his arm knocks over a bottle of Windsor Canadian whiskey. It falls like a rock and shatters, spraying cheap whiskey all over the floor. I seize the broken neck of the bottle and lunge at Tommy. His eyes widen as I grab the hair on his head and dig the broken, jagged edges
of glass against his neck. Pinpricks of blood well up around the sharp pieces and he winces.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I asked you to watch over my wife.”

  “I think you can cut the act now. Johnny knows everything.”

  “THIS IS NOT A FUCKING ACT!”

  Every rough syllable digs the glass deeper into Tommy’s skin, and I hear a female scream behind me—one of the waitresses. Male voices urge me to calm down, or they otherwise laugh at the spectacle I’m giving them.

  “Calm down, Tony—”

  My voice dials down to a gritty whisper, and Tommy’s anxious hazel eyes find mine. I don’t give a fuck about slitting his throat, right here, right now, and he knows it.

  “I will kill you right fucking here if you don’t tell me where my wife is.”

  Tommy’s throat bulges and he swallows hard. “She left with him, all right?”

  With him.

  They let her leave with that scumbag.

  “Can I ask you something? Why the fuck do you care about her?”

  The edge of the broken half of the bottle smashes over Tommy as I lunge at his face. I let him drop to the ground as he cradles his head.

  He looks up at me through a haze of broken bits of glass and blood. “I’m going to kill you.”

  He lunges at my middle and I fall backward, my back hitting the hard ground. Pierre and Francois suddenly materialize out of thin air, grabbing Tommy’s arms before he can swing a fist. An animalistic look snarls Tommy’s face, and it takes four guys to hold him back.

  The energy and the fight flows out of me when I realize Elena probably left with him because he promised to drop charges against me. He coerced her, but no one would have known or cared to stop her.

  “She’s pregnant, and you let her leave with that psycho.”

  Tommy’s chest pulses as he struggles against the guys holding him. “It’s a fucking scam!”

  “No, it’s not—that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, you stupid fuck!”

  They finally let him go as I slump against the bar. It’s as though he slid a knife between my ribs. Then I think of the girl I loved when I was seventeen, and how she turned up dead in the streets. I felt as if the pain would kill me, but it’s nothing compared to losing Elena.

  I bury my face in my hands. The bar goes quiet—really quiet. No one’s ever seen me like this and I’m aware that I must look like a pussy, but I don’t care. She’s everything to me, and I can’t find her.

  My shoulders shake and my eyes burn as if they’re on the verge of tears. I feel out of control—completely fucking lost. Mad rage twists my guts, and I’m half tempted to walk to Le Zinc right now and put a bullet in Johnny’s fucking head for allowing her to leave.

  A gruff voice whispers in my ear as someone pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t.”

  I lift my head miserably and see Tommy’s battered face filled with remorse.

  It doesn’t do fuck all for me.

  “I’ll never forget this. You might as well leave town tonight, because I’m coming back for you.”

  He lets out air through his nose. “What if I help you find her?”

  “They could be anywhere by now.”

  “Or he went back to New York.” A nervous edge trembles in Tommy’s voice. I know that he’s not supposed to place a foot anywhere near the city. “I’ll call Vince.”

  “If you really want to help, you’ll come with me. I’m going now.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck—fine. Let’s go.” Tommy addresses a waitress. “Clean up this shit and then put Jamie in charge.”

  * * *

  The drive toward New York is spent in silence, with only the sound of Tommy drumming his fingers restlessly against the car door handle.

  “Can you give it a rest with that shit?”

  He lets out a long sigh. “Sorry. I’m not exactly welcome in New York anymore.”

  I look at him, watching the way his jaw tenses. “What did you do?”

  And how are you still alive?

  He gives me a dark look. “I helped whack the old New York boss.”

  Elena’s father.

  “So? You weren’t the only one part of that fucking disaster.”

  “There were other things I did,” he says unhelpfully. “Things I don’t fucking regret, but still.”

  “Call him again.”

  He gives me a look before opening his phone and dialing the New York boss, putting the phone on speaker.

  “Vince.”

  “Hey, Vince, it’s Tommy again.”

  “I haven’t found the little shit stain yet. He’s not at his apartment.”

  “Listen, Tony and I are driving to New York right now.” He winces as he finishes the sentence.

  The phone crackles with silence for a moment before Vincent’s indignant voice speaks again. “You what? No—turn back around.”

  “Too late for that. We’re already halfway.”

  “You lost your New York privileges, remember?”

  “I’m just trying to help Tony.”

  “What the fuck am I supposed to tell Paulie’s cousins when they find out your ass is in town?”

  I don’t really care about Vincent giving Tommy shit about returning to New York.

  “Vince, what the fuck are you doing to find my wife?”

  “I don’t like your fucking tone, asshole. Maybe you should’ve kept better track of your wife—”

  “Maybe you should have let me kill him when we had the chance. Then he wouldn’t have ratted me out to the cops, or hired bikers to try to kill me, you arrogant prick!”

  Tommy’s face pales as the speaker screams in outrage.

  “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  “She’s my wife, Vincent. She’s pregnant. What if it was yours?”

  The phone goes silent for a moment and then it crackles with a sigh. “I’m doing what I can. I don’t know if he’s in New York, but I’ve been trying to find him for weeks.”

  Slippery fuck.

  “All right. We’ll call you when we’re close.”

  The phone goes dead without a reply and Tommy gives me an angry voice. “Nice work. Calling the boss an arrogant prick was a really good idea.”

  “That’s what he is.”

  He grins at me. “Yeah, and I think you’re a hotheaded moron but you don’t see me calling you that. Oh, wait.”

  Fuck, I can’t stand the guys in the life. I want to reach over and smack the stupid smile off his face, but my phone buzzes with a text.

  “Read it.”

  “It’s from Elena: Don’t come after me. Everything’s under control.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “What should I say back?”

  My heart clenches. I doubt the text is coming from her. “Ask her where she is.”

  I watch his fingers fly over the phone. “New York.”

  “He’s leaving us a trail of breadcrumbs, or he’s trying to throw us off.”

  “I’m going to bet that it’s an ambush. Have Vince trace the call.”

  Fucking finally. We’re one step closer.

  ELENA

  Duct tape is a lot stronger than it looks. It’s amazing, really. A couple strips over my mouth, and I can’t make a sound. My hands, feet, arms, everything. I’m like an insect struggling in flypaper.

  Thinking about that is much more pleasant than thinking about the man I loathe, who sits on the bed with a gun trained at the door. I’ve already tried wrestling the gun from him, and he knocked me out. Couldn’t believe that I’d actually want to kill “the father of his child.”

  Maniac.

  He keeps glancing at his phone, waiting for some bit of horrible news about the ambush he has set up for Tony. First he made me get my father’s money from Tommy. Then he hired those fucking animals to kill my husband.

  With my money.

  He grabbed me the moment I left the restaurant. It was righ
t out in the open and if any of Johnny’s people saw, they didn’t give a fuck. He forced me to go to Tommy to collect my money.

  “Those fucks better take care of him. I swear to God. I’ve never paid so much for a fucking hit.”

  My murmured, unintelligible response doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He cups his hand around his ear, looking at me.

  “What was that? Couldn’t quite make that out.” He grins at the fury on my face.

  I’m glad you’re able to keep a sense of humor during this.

  “Fuck it.”

  He bounces from the bed and grabs the corner of the tape, ripping it off my face. Spittle drools down my cheek, and he wipes it off with his thumb.

  “Rafael, let me go. This is insane.”

  “Let you go so you can crack me over the head with that lamp?” He nods toward the heavy-looking lamp on the nightstand that I’ve been eyeing. “I don’t think so.”

  Rage boils in my chest as I struggle fruitlessly against my bonds.

  “When he’s dead, we’ll go upstate. Hide out in some fucking farm. That money will last us a while.”

  He talks about it on the bed as though he’s got everything figured out.

  “Or maybe I can give it to Vince—get him to call off this shit.”

  “Yeah, do that so that I can watch him blow off your head.”

  It bursts out of me before I can swallow back the words, and Rafael whirls around.

  Oh fuck.

  He gets up from the bed, gun dangling from his grip as he walks in front of me, his pelvis facing me. “You’re a sick cunt,” he says as he threads his hand through my hair, yanking viciously. “The moment this kid is born, I’m beating some fucking manners back into you.”

  The deepest loathing riles inside me as he gently cups my face, running his thumb over his bottom lip. Disgust swirls in my stomach as I see the bulge in his pants, growing larger by the second.

  “Fuck, maybe I should just shove my cock down your throat to shut you up.”

  “I’ll bite it off,” I growl.

  “You’ll lose more than a couple teeth if you do that to me.”

  “No!” I squirm in my seat, terrified when he actually undoes his belt with a groan. He pulls his pants down and I scream.