by Mae Doyle
They pause halfway down the hall to get a drink of water and I hang back, not wanting them to know that I’m following them. From the look of them, they’re definitely not the brightest stars in the fucking sky, and they don’t notice me.
We walk down the hall to 102A and the two of them stop. The taller one peers into the window in the door and shakes his head at the shorter guy, who sighs and leans up against the wall.
“You two waiting for someone?” I have no idea how much longer court will go until they break for lunch, and I want to handle this now, before anyone in there comes out and sees what’s going on.
“Who the fuck are you?” The taller man scowls at me and I give him a look right back. I’m not cool with any innocent person getting hurt, but especially not my Lucia. Just because some asshole found out that she’s a Torenti and wants to hurt her doesn’t mean that I have to sit back and watch it happen.
“Me? I’m just here to make sure that justice gets served.” I lean casually against the wall by the shorter guy, noting with interest as he turns away from me, lightly resting his hand on his lower back. He thinks that he’s fast enough to get his piece out, but he has no idea what’s coming his way.
I just wish that this wasn’t about to go down in the middle of the hall in the fucking courthouse.
“Us too. Just here for business, not pleasure,” the short man says with a scoff.
“Why not both? You guys know the lawyer Lucia Hall? Hot little piece of ass, she is.” They stare at me for a moment before glancing at each other, so I continue. “Maybe you know her by her other name? Torenti?”
I strike a nerve, and that’s when everything starts to happen at once. The taller guy comes at me so quickly that I barely have time to duck before his fist slams into the wall where my head was just a moment ago. There’s a thud that reverberates through the hall and he sucks in a breath.
Concrete blocks for the wall. Not drywall. Good for me, sucks for this asshole.
I duck down and punch him in the stomach. He lets out an oof and tries to stand back up, but I kick him in the knee and he falls to the floor.
One asshole down, one to go.
The shorter guy sees the writing on the wall and starts to run down the hall, away from the main entrance. There has to be some back exit back here, or maybe stairs, and I’m not surprised when he slams through a door at the end of the hall and starts running up a flight of stairs.
My heart pounds in my chest but I lunge after him, managing to grab his ankles so that he falls on the stairs.
“Motherfucker!” He screams, kicking at my face to try to get me to let go. He’s also struggling to reach to the back of his pants, and I know that I only have a few seconds before he’s able to get his gun out and then I’m really fucked.
“Come here, you asshole,” I mutter between gritted teeth. He lands a strong kick on the side of my face, but I don’t let go. My head feels like it’s spinning, but I know that if I let go of ankles now then I’ll never get the answers that I need.
Even though my vision is blurry from the kick, I crawl up the stairs, using his body as leverage, and straddle him, my bulk pinning him to the stairs. He stops squirming and lashes out to hit me, but I grab his wrists and throw them above his head, pinning him down.
“Okay, asshole,” I mutter, “who the fuck are you? Who the fuck sent you? And why do you want to hurt Lucia?”
In response he spits into my face, a huge glob that slides down my cheek.
Yeah, now I’m mad.
Without thinking about what I’m doing or where I am, I pull my fist back and slam it into his face. He jerks to the side and a tooth spins out of his mouth, a fine spray of blood coating my front.
“I asked you some questions,” I shout into his face. Sweat beads up on my forehead and I’m afraid that if I don’t hurry and get answers from him then I’m going to get caught. Eventually, someone has to use this staircase. I’m on limited time, and I don’t even know how much time I actually have.
“Because she’s a fucking Torenti,” he finally spits at me. Blood leaks from his mouth where he lost a tooth and his eye is already starting to puff up from me hitting him, but I don’t give a shit. Maggots like this don’t deserve to live.
“And who wants her dead?” He doesn’t answer at first and I punch him again, the sound of his bone cracking under my fist fucking satisfying as hell. “Answer me, asshole.”
This time, when he turns to look at me, the side of his face is so badly mangled that it’s hard to see his eye for the blood. “You Torentis are all the same. You think that you can shit on everyone and that nobody will ever stand up to you. Well maybe Marco should have thought about that before he let his little niece live by herself, don’t you think? Maybe he should have considered that before he pissed off my boss.”
I’m losing my temper. “Who’s your fucking boss, asshole?” I’m doing my best to keep my calm, but at the same time letting go of one of his wrists to reach around to his back. His piece is still tucked into his pants, and I need it.
“Fuck you.” He tries to spit at me again, but foamy blood just gurgles out of his mouth. Asshole is half-dead anyway, but I press the gun against his head and pull the trigger.
Even with the suppressor, the gun is fucking loud and the sound reverberates around the open space. I flinch and then tuck the piece into my pants, flipping my jacket over it so that nobody can see it.
I’m covered in this asshole’s blood, and I hesitate for just a second, trying to decide if I should go after the taller man. He’s probably run out of here by now, fucking pussy.
But I need to make sure that Lucia is okay. “Fucking hell,” I growl, pulling my jacket tight around me to cover most of the blood. As soon as I do, the door behind me opens and I whip around, immediately pulling the piece from my pants and pointing it at the person coming in the door.
“Slow down there, boss, I’m not into dying today.” The officer in front of me has his hands up, but his eyes dart to the dead body on the floor. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing in here?”
We all know what to do to officers, but the family has a few that we pay for discretion. It’s worth the risk.
“Torenti business.” I keep the pistol leveled at his chest and he breaks out into a grin.
“Fuck, boss, why didn’t you say so? Get the fuck out of here.” He reaches for his radio on his collar and I push out past him, slipping the gun back into my pants.
Lucia. I just have to lay eyes on her and then I’ll get the fuck out of here.
The courtroom door is open, and there’s nobody in there when I look, so I jog down the hall to the entrance. She’s not in the crowds. Her car is still in the parking lot.
Fucking hell, where is she?
Chapter 9
Lucia
I can’t breathe.
I don’t know where I am, but I know that I can’t breathe, and when I reach up to try to pull at whatever is tied around my throat, all I can do is catch my fingers in the fabric, but I don’t have a good enough grip to pull it away from my skin.
I want to scream at whoever is there that I can’t breathe and that they’re killing me, but I can only catch tiny bits of air, not nearly enough to fill my lungs.
It’s barely enough for me to stay conscious. Not nearly enough for me to scream.
Even so, I try one more time, breathing as deeply as I can before forcing all of the air out of my lungs at once in a scream. Surely, someone will hear me. We can’t be too far from the courthouse parking lot.
Someone had to see them grab me.
The air leaves my lungs and I get dizzy. I want to put my head down between my legs and try to catch my breath, but I can’t move.
I want to lash out at whoever grabbed me, but if I let go of the fabric around my throat, then I can’t breathe.
I can’t win.
I’m fucking terrified, and the one thing that keeps running through my head is that Enzo and my uncle were
right.
Fucking damn them both to hell for this.
◆◆◆
I must have passed out in the car. Van. Truck, whatever. I’m not sure what they put me in when they took me from the parking lot, but what I do know how is that I’m untied and alone. I sit up, my heart pounding as I look around the room.
I’m on a filthy sofa that probably hasn’t ever been washed. It’s the only piece of furniture in the room besides a wooden chair placed next to it. There’s a glass of water on the chair, but like hell am I going to drink anything without knowing for sure if it’s safe.
Across the room from me is a door, which is shut, and probably locked.
No windows.
Hard floors.
Exposed metal beams in the ceiling, but that doesn’t help me narrow down where I am. If there was just a window then maybe I could peek out of it and tell where I am…
And then what? It’s not like I have my cell phone with me. Just in case, though, I pat myself down. Nope, no cell, no keys, no pen.
Nothing that could be used as a weapon, except maybe my high heels. The genius who dumped me in here didn’t take them off of my feet, and I consider whether or not I could stab someone with them.
Fuck, yes. I will definitely stab someone if it comes down to it.
The warning from my uncle rings in my ears. Chances are very good that whoever kidnapped me doesn’t want to ransom me. They want to kill me, just because I’m a Torenti.
“Fucking family,” I mutter, dropping my head back and rolling it in a circle. I’m tense and tight, like I’ve been cramped up on the sofa for hours, but when I look at my wrist to check the time, my watch is gone. “Assholes.” This I say a little louder in case someone happens to be listening in.
I don’t see any cameras in the room, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve worked enough cases to know that technology has gotten out of control and there’s just no telling how small a camera can be these days.
“You hear me?” Without thinking about what I’m doing, I stand up, turning in a slow circle so that any camera can catch my face. “Do you hear me? You’re all assholes! Fucking pussies! Show yourselves, fuck!”
Nothing.
My pulse pounds in my ears so loud that I can hear it, but that’s the only sound I hear. Nobody comes in. My first inclination is to start to pace, but that won’t get my anywhere. I have to conserve my energy, especially since all I had for breakfast was some black coffee and dry toast.
At the thought of food, my stomach growls, and I groan, throwing myself back down on the sofa. Even though the thought of what might be on it makes me sick, it’s better to sit. I don’t want to wear myself out. Slowly, I slip my heels off and tuck them on the sofa next to me, turning them so that how sharp and dangerous they are can’t be seen from the door.
There.
There’s nothing else that I can do right now but wait. I have a weapon, kind of, and sitting still is better than freaking out.
I wish that Enzo were here.
I don’t want to wish him here. I don’t want to think for one moment that I really want him, but the thought enters my mind unbidden and I can’t get rid of it. If he were here, he’d figure out what to do, I just know it. He’d come up with some plan on how to save me.
At the very least, he’d wrap his huge arms around me and pull me to him so that I wasn’t so scared.
I don’t want to admit to myself that I’m starting to cry, but it’s hard to deny it when the third tear splashes onto my lap.
Fucking Torenti family. All it does is bring me pain.
Chapter 10
Enzo
“Do you have any idea how much money I’m going to have to funnel to that fucking police officer? And for what? Him to look the other way while you blew some asshole’s brains out?” Pops slams his hands on the table, but nobody jumps.
We all know better.
Roque and Arlo are here with me. We’re the ones that Pops wants to handle this shit.
“Yeah, he cleaned up the stairs,” I tell him. “And got rid of the footage of the guy I beat up in the hallway.” It wasn’t my cleanest and best moment, but I got the job done, but the whole thing is frustrating as hell.
“But he got Lucia anyway.” Pops sounds dead, and that makes me wince.
Yeah, he fucking got Lucia. I’m not any happier about it than he is. This is the girl I’m supposed to marry, and now that I’ve sunk my cock into her sweet pussy once, I want it again. I never thought that I’d be the kind of guy to want a girl for myself, but when I see how Roque and Arlo are with their wives, then I can’t help but want that for my own.
And Lucia? Fuck, there’s something about her. I know that she’s torn on her last name. Part of her thinks that that’s the only reason I want to marry her, while the other part of her wants to hide it so that nobody will ever know who she really is.
But I want all of her. I want everything that she has to offer, no matter how messy or crazy it may be, and I’m willing to do anything to make her see that.
“What do we know about the kidnapper? How much time do you think that we have, Pops?” I’m hoping that whoever took her won’t want to kill her right away. I’m hoping that they’re stupid and hang onto her long enough for us to find her so that I don’t need to worry about having the blood of my sweet Lucia on my hands.
I’m already going to tear whoever took her limb from limb. I need to know that she’s as safe as possible and that I have time to get to her.
“Not much.” Pops frowns and takes a deep breath before continuing, and I have to remind myself that while I’m going crazy over Lucia being taken, this is his niece. He’s probably feeling even worse than I am. “We know that she was an easy mark because she’s not kept close to the family and doesn’t have our protection. We know that she was taken as some sort of retaliation for a job that we’ve done or something that she did in the past. That’s it. That’s really all we know.”
I forgot. She’s prosecution. There could be a whole laundry list of people out there who hate her as much as they hate us.
Roque speaks up. “So, what you’re saying is that it could be any number of people who feel like we’ve fucked them over in the past? Fuck.”
Pops nods, but before he can say anything else, Arlo joins the conversation.
“I don’t think that this would just be anyone. I know that whoever took her is fucking pissed, right? So it has to be someone that we really pissed off, not just someone who’s a little upset. What they’ve done is a fucking death sentence, and they have to see it that way. There’s just no way that they’re going to walk away from this, and they must know that.”
“So, who have we really fucked over or pissed off?” I ask. I’m dying to get to the bottom of this. I’m dying to get my sweet Lucia back in my arms, lock her away, and make sure that nobody can ever hurt her again.
“The Romano family.” Roque slams his hand down on the table. “How much did they just lose with you, bookie?”
I think fast. “It was a fuckton. A million, maybe? A bit more. But they’ve been betting with us for years and they’re used to the ups and downs. Fuck, he was just in my office last week and was fucking fine with his turn of luck. Told me that he always lands on his feet.”
Pops shakes his head. “But it’s not just the betting that’s been off for him. He just had a major business venture go under, and I told him that we couldn’t front him the capital. That may have been why he was in to see you, Enzo.” He pauses to take a sip of water.
“Let’s get him.” Arlo takes this shit seriously. I know that he had some issues when he first found his wife of people threatening to kill her, and I have no doubt that he’s going to see this out to the end. Fuck, he just better not try to pull the trigger before I do. I want to be the one to end this asshole’s life.
“Wait.” Roque is maddening when he’s calm, and both Arlo and I are halfway out of our seats when he speaks. “We have to make absolutely sure that
it’s them and not someone else. Is there anyone else who you may have pissed off just a little who may want to hurt you? Think about it, everyone.”
I think hard. The problem with being a bookie is that you’re going to piss people off. Nobody wants to be on the losing side of a bet, and when they are, then it’s easy for the claws to come out. In the past week I’ve pissed off half a dozen people, but chances are good that they’ll be back next week and back in the black. It’s just how it is.
“Tony Ricci?” I throw the name out there just in case. He lost a ton this week, but he’s also a jovial motherfucker and doesn’t let shit get to him.
“Just signed a deal with him,” Arlo says. “He’s good.”
Roque frowns. “The Marino family?”
“He’s not a betting man,” I reply. “Never sets foot in my office, so you’d have to have really pissed him off on your own.”
It goes on like this for half a dozen more names as we all try to figure out who we may have pissed off enough to want to kidnap and kill Lucia, but there’s just one name that we keep coming back to.
Fucking Giorgio Romano.
Slimy little asshole with shit for brains, he loves to play with his money but tends to get a bit explosive when things don’t work out the way that he wanted them to. It’s obvious that he’s our best bet for the fuckup who took Lucia, and we all stand.
Pops is coming along on this one. She’s his niece, for fuck’s sake. Whoever thought that they could mess with a Torenti and get away with it was stupid as hell, because we’re going to rain down more pain on their head than they could ever imagine.
“Everyone strapped?” It’s a redundant question. None of us go anywhere without being completely prepared for what may happen, but we nod anyway. My piece presses up against my back. It’s comforting.
The one that I stole from the thug in the courthouse? Safely under some concrete in a new construction somewhere in town thanks to Arlo. There’s no way that anyone will ever find it, and no way that anyone will ever be able to tie me to the problem.