War of Hearts

by Julia Sykes

  Marco finally let go, letting out a wordless roar as he rocked his hips toward me, driving deep as he filled me with his cum.

  “What the fuck?”

  I shrieked at the sound of the stranger’s voice, shock ripping through my pleasure.

  “Matteo,” Marco rasped, looking past me toward the threshold to the bedroom. “This isn’t—”

  “You’re a fucking fag,” the boy spat out. “Your father sent me here to find out why you haven’t been taking his calls. I heard screaming, and I thought something was wrong. But you… Both of you… You’re fucking fags,” he hurled the insult again.

  Joseph cursed, and but he moved with slow care as he pulled out of me. I could hear footsteps pounding down the staircase. Matteo was running away.

  “Fuck, fuck,” Joseph repeated, frantic. He lifted me off Marco, still handling me carefully so he didn’t hurt me. “Go after him, Marco. We have to explain. We can’t let him tell anyone.”

  “I know,” Marco said grimly, getting to his feet and yanking on his jeans.

  I heard tires squealing against asphalt outside. Marco looked out the window, then shook his head.

  “He’ll be out the gates before I can get to him.” He turned back to look at me, his face paler than I’d ever seen it. “Clean up and get dressed. We have to get into the city and do damage control.”

  “I thought it wasn’t safe to leave the estate,” I said, but I started to climb out of bed.

  He shook his head sharply. “We can’t stay here. They’ll come right for us. We have to head them off and try to explain.”

  “But why?” I asked, not understanding why the situation was so dire. Of course, it was odd for the three of us to be together. But Marco made it sound as though we were in danger.

  “Homosexuality isn’t accepted in our world,” Joseph told me, just as grim as Marco. “If my father’s enemies catch wind of this, it’ll be all the excuse they need to come after my family.”

  “But you’re not gay,” I said. What we shared didn’t really have a definition that I was familiar with, but we were all together. The three of us.

  “They won’t see it that way,” Marco said. “Come on. We have to go. We have to get to Matteo before he turns on us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ashlyn

  “Why are we splitting up?” I asked Joseph as we pulled through the open gates that guarded Marco’s estate.

  Marco zoomed past the Ferrari on his motorcycle, already speeding toward the city.

  Joseph hit the gas, following him. For now.

  I didn’t like that we weren’t all in the car together. I didn’t like that we were about to go in different directions.

  “You and I need to get to my father at the restaurant,” Joseph explained. “Matteo might have already called him to tell him what he saw, but we need to try to get to him first. We have to explain.”

  “And what are we going to say?” I asked, concerned. “Will your father accept that the three of us are together?”

  His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Probably not. But it might make enough of a difference that he’ll protect us from the rest of the family.” He glanced over at me. “I hate that I’m bringing you into this, but I can’t leave you alone on the estate without one of us to protect you. Just stay close to me.”

  “But what about Marco? Where is he going?”

  “He’s going to try to find Matteo, if he hasn’t gone to the restaurant. If we’re lucky, Matteo will go straight to my father.”

  “And if we aren’t lucky?”

  His jaw ticked. “Matteo might decide to go to Gabriel Costa, my father’s rival. He might forsake our blood family for what I’ve done.”

  “But I don’t understand why it’s so terrible.”

  He reached over and squeezed my hand. “It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with what we share. But other people in my world won’t see it that way.” He returned his grip to the steering wheel and pressed down on the gas. “Hold on, angel. We’re about to break a few laws.”

  Joseph pulled up to the curb in front of his family’s restaurant. I was sure the parking ticket he would get would be far less expensive than all the traffic violations he’d committed getting us here. It was a miracle we hadn’t been pulled over, but I was fairly certain he’d be getting a ticket for running at least one red light.

  My heart pounded in my chest from the frightening ride. Joseph had seemed in control the whole time, but the speed had still been unnerving.

  He opened my car door and helped me out, shielding my body with his as we crossed the sidewalk to the restaurant entrance.

  “Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

  The place was deserted, the lights off. The sign on the glass door was flipped to closed.

  It was six in the evening. The restaurant should be open and packed with patrons. My stomach turned with anxiety, and I noted that Joseph’s fingers shook slightly as he found the right key attached to the car keys. He slid it into the lock on the front door, and we stepped into the darkened space.

  Light peeked around the outline of the door to the private room at the back of the restaurant, where I’d shared dinner with Joseph’s family on the night I was poisoned. Muffled voices floated through the closed door, and Joseph shifted his body in front of mine.

  “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper.

  I fell into step behind him as we crossed the eerily empty restaurant. I expected the voices to become clearer as we neared the door, but it seemed it had been built to block sound. The people on the other side must be shouting for us to be able to hear them at all.

  My unease intensified.

  They know. Matteo must have told Joseph’s father already, and he must be furious.

  I took a deep breath. It’ll be fine, I told myself. We’ll explain, and it’ll be fine.

  I remembered how happy Mr. Russo had been to meet me, the genuine joy in his eyes when he’d greeted Joseph. He loved his son. He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt Joseph.

  Something hard jammed into my ribs, and I cried out at the shock of pain. The sound was immediately smothered when a hand clamped over my mouth.

  Fear slammed through my system. I didn’t have to see it to identify the hard object pressed against the side of my chest: a gun.

  Joseph turned, but it was too late. My captor jerked me back, out of his reach.

  Joseph froze, his face going pale as his eyes focused on the gun at my side.

  “Let her go, Ricky,” he demanded. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “That’s not what I heard.” I recognized the voice: the man who had threatened me in the bathroom when Joseph and Marco had taken me out to dinner. “I heard she was part of your little fuck fest.” I heard him inhale near my hair, breathing in my scent. “She smells so sweet to be such a dirty bitch.”

  Joseph snarled and took a step forward. I winced when Ricky dug the gun deeper into my side.

  Joseph froze again, his body vibrating with suppressed violence.

  “Go on in,” Ricky told him. “Your old man is waiting for you.”

  “You don’t work for my father,” Joseph said. “You work for Costa. Why are you here?”

  The pressure of the gun eased slightly just before it slammed back into my ribs. My pained cry caught against his hand, and Joseph’s face twisted with rage.

  “Go in,” Ricky repeated, his tone silky with vindictive malice. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Joseph reached behind him for the doorknob, but he didn’t turn away from me. He kept his eyes trained on the gun at my side.

  He was so busy watching me that he didn’t see the man waiting on the other side of the door. He didn’t see the flash of steel just before the knife slammed into his lower back. His eyes flew wide, his mouth falling open. For a second, he didn’t make a sound.

  Then, the man wrenched the knife free, and Joseph fell to his knees with a harsh shout.


  I screamed and twisted against Ricky’s hold, struggling to get to the man I loved. I managed to get my mouth free from beneath his hand, and I sank my teeth into his fingers. He released me with a curse, but I didn’t get a step away from him before the gun slammed into the side of my head.

  Pain cracked through my skull, and I heard Joseph say my name.

  The world flickered around me, and I blinked hard, willing everything to stop spinning.

  I realized I was on the floor, my cheek pressed against cool tiles. Something warm and wet trickled through my hair, but I couldn’t think about that.

  All I could focus on was Joseph’s pale face, his gorgeous features drawn tight with pain and panic. He struggled to his feet, but Ricky pushed him back down with a hard shove to his shoulder and trained his gun on the back of Joseph’s head.

  Gritting my teeth against the pounding pain in my skull, I tried to stand, to go to Joseph.

  I didn’t make it to my knees before a man’s hand tangled in my hair, jerking me up to my feet.

  “Let the girl go, Gabriel,” Mr. Russo demanded.

  I struggled to get my bearings. Joseph’s father sat in his chair at the head of the table, but a man stood behind him, with a gun pressed against the side of his skull.

  “I don’t think so,” the man holding me—Gabriel—said. “I was going to finally kill you, Dominic. When everyone finds out your son’s a fag, no one would bat an eye at eradicating your family. You’re obviously too weak to take Lombardi’s place. But I don’t think I’ll have to kill you, after all. Are you going to cry, Dominic?”

  Mr. Russo’s eyes were shining as he stared at Joseph. No matter his feelings about Joseph allegedly being gay, Mr. Russo loved his son.

  “I won’t have to kill you,” Gabriel continued. “I won’t have to shed first blood. Your faggot son doesn’t count. But watching him die will break you. Everyone will know you’re not fit to control our family.”

  Every fiber of my being rebelled at his words. Joseph wasn’t going to die. I couldn’t let him die.

  I twisted in his hold, ignoring the pain as some of my hair was ripped out of my scalp. I managed to drive my elbow into his doughy stomach. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and his grip on me eased as he doubled over, wheezing.

  I ran toward Joseph, throwing myself at Ricky with a defiant shriek. His eyes widened, and he was too surprised to react in time.

  I didn’t know how to fight, but I did know how to hurt a man. I slammed into him with enough momentum to shove him and his gun away from Joseph. Then, I rammed my knee up into his balls.

  He dropped to his knees, clutching at his crotch and gasping for air.

  “Joseph,” I sobbed, struggling to get my shoulders under his arm to help him to his feet.

  He got one foot down to support himself, but his boot slipped in a pool of his blood, and he went back down.

  “Stupid bitch.” Gabriel’s fingers dug into my upper arm, and I shrieked as he wrenched me away from Joseph.

  He spun my body away from his and threw me onto the table. My head cracked against the wood, making my skull throb and my stomach turn. His hand pressed between my shoulders, pinning me down hard enough that my breasts ached against the unyielding table.

  I heard the sound of a belt buckle being loosened, a zipper being lowered.

  Joseph snarled, and I felt something hard pressing against my ass.

  “Your son can watch me fuck his whore while he bleeds out,” Gabriel told Mr. Russo.

  I screamed and slapped my sweaty palms against the polished wood, struggling to get free. But Gabriel had me trapped, his hand pinning me in place while his hips trapped mine against the edge of the table.

  A shot rang out, and I screamed again, fearing for Joseph.

  A heavy weight fell onto my back, driving the air from my lungs.

  Two more shots, in quick succession.

  “Ashlyn!”

  “Marco,” I sobbed his name.

  The weight was lifted from my back, and I realized Gabriel’s dead body had fallen onto me. I watched Marco heave his lifeless form aside before he reached for me, running his hands over my body to check for injuries.

  The man who had held a gun on Mr. Russo was on the floor, moaning and clutching his shoulder. Marco’s father stood over him, his head cocked to one side. His black eyes betrayed no emotion when he emptied another round into the man’s skull. He looked up at Mr. Russo and nodded, as though everything was handled.

  “Joseph,” I gasped, trying to move past Marco to get to him.

  Joseph lay on his side, blood pooling around him. At first, I thought it was all Joseph’s blood. But then I saw Ricky’s ruined face, and I realized a lot of it was flowing from the hole in his skull.

  I gagged, but I focused my attention back on Joseph. I struggled past Marco, stumbling to my knees beside Joseph. He wasn’t moving, and his eyes were closed. But I could see his chest rising and falling.

  He’s not dead. He’s not going to die.

  I heard Mr. Russo shouting into his phone for an ambulance, saying something about a robbery. I wasn’t sure how he planned to cover up three murders, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting Joseph to the hospital.

  Marco joined me, his face drawn with fear as he reached for Joseph’s hand. I took Joseph’s other hand in mine. I squeezed his fingers, willing him to squeeze mine back.

  He didn’t stir.

  I choked on a sob, and I leaned into Marco’s chest for support.

  He can’t die. I couldn’t lose Joseph, or I’d lose half my heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Joseph

  My recent memories were fuzzy. I’d drifted in and out for… How long?

  I wasn’t sure. All I knew was there were moments of pain, and then a warm fog would take it away.

  Someone’s hand covered mine. But it wasn’t the small, soft hand I craved.

  Ashlyn.

  The last thing I could remember clearly was her pained expression as Gabriel Costa ripped her away from me.

  My eyes snapped open, and I jolted forward. An erratic beeping sounded around me, but I ignored it, as well as the pain that knifed through my lower back.

  “Easy, son.” Dad’s hand left mine to touch my shoulder, guiding me back down onto the hospital bed.

  “Ashlyn,” I ground out her name as I gritted my teeth against the pain. I had to get to her. I had to know she was safe.

  “Ashlyn is fine. She’s with Marco.” My father’s lips twisted around the last statement.

  “Costa,” I growled his name, remembering the way he and his men had hurt her. “Where is he?”

  “He’s dead. Leo killed him.” He didn’t even blink when he told me Marco’s dad had killed his rival. “That little shit Matteo ran straight to Gabriel after he saw… Well, after he saw you. Marco and Leo tracked him down and found out that Gabriel had come for me at the restaurant. They got to us in time to save you.

  “Leo’s in lockup at the moment,” Dad added. “We couldn’t fully explain everything away as a robbery gone wrong. But I’m sure he’ll post bail and be out in no time.”

  I nodded, not really caring about Marco’s dad. He always managed to get out of serving jail time. I was sure he’d manage it again.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Have the cops been hassling you?” I might not like my father’s criminal lifestyle, but I didn’t want him to go to jail.

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, son. Just focus on getting better.”

  But I couldn’t focus on that. I couldn’t focus on anything but Ashlyn. I wouldn’t be able to rest until I saw she was safe.

  “Where are Ashlyn and Marco?”

  Dad sighed, his expression drooping with disappointment. “I told them they couldn’t see you yet. I wanted to talk to you.” His pale eyes glinted, his jaw firming with anger. “And they’re not your family.”

  “They are,” I countered. “I know you don’t understand, but
they are my family, Dad.”

  “No, I don’t understand. But I don’t want to see my only son murdered because he’s… Because of his unorthodox choices.” I knew he was swallowing a dirtier word, and I appreciated his tact.

  “Once you’re better, you’re going to have to leave New York,” he continued. “All of you. Ashlyn doesn’t belong here, and Marco’s not welcome here anymore, either.”

  I knew my father would think of my exile as a punishment, but he had no idea the gift he’d just given me: a way out.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said earnestly. “Are we all right? I mean, I know you’re not happy about all this, but we’re still on speaking terms, right?”

  His eyes sparkled with a glimmer of tears. “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you were going to bleed out on the floor while I watched. Maybe, if that hadn’t happened, I’d throw you out and never speak to you again. As it is…” He swiped at the wetness on his face. “Call me anytime, son. If you ever need anything, just call me.”

  “I will,” I promised. “What about Mom? How is she taking all this?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Your mother is furious at Ashlyn for stealing you away. Give her some time, and she’ll cool off. She loves you, too.”

  “Can I see her? Ashlyn, I mean. I want to see her and Marco.”

  Dad’s lips thinned when I mentioned Marco’s name, but he nodded. “I’ll go tell them they can come in.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said, more grateful for his loving nature than ever. My father might be a ruthless criminal, but he loved me and cared about my happiness.

  Dad slipped out the door, and a minute later, Ashlyn burst into the room. She held a handful of colorful get-well-soon balloons, and she pulled Marco along in her wake. From the bemused expression on his face, he was happy to be pulled wherever she wanted him to go.

  Ashlyn rushed to my side and released the balloons in her haste to grab my hand. Marco caught them before they could float away and knotted the ribbons to the guardrail on my hospital bed.