Stitch: Crime Family Values Book 1

by Nia Farrell

  Despite the danger.

  Despite the pain.

  She was his, for better or for worse, with all that it entailed. Matteo might use her like a cumslut in the bedroom, but he demanded that others respect her as his wife and the mother of his son.

  Like his father and grandfathers before him, Matteo protected what was his.

  The music changed and he picked up the pace until he was jackhammering into her like a well-oiled machine. Sweat beaded his skin and dripped from his hair. His lungs were labored from his efforts. His breathing grew increasingly ragged. Near the end of the next song, his rhythm broke. Burying himself to the hilt, he erupted inside her and filled her with his seed.

  “Mine,” he growled. Flexing his buttocks, he pumped the last of his semen into her as the final notes of the song faded and the next one began.

  Before he pulled out, he bent his dark head and kissed her.

  Beth welcomed the press of his lips, the sweep of his tongue. Earlier, he’d eaten her pussy and teased her clit until she came. Now, he tasted like grapes, but the scent on his skin was all hers.

  Matteo avoided fragrances. She’d never known him to use aftershave, let alone men’s cologne.

  He was a hunter. Hunters didn’t advertise their positions.

  Replete, he rolled to the side and lay with her, one arm draped over her chest with his hand on her breast. When she started to drift asleep, he freed her wrists and ankles.

  “Roll over,” he said, pushing himself off the bed. “I need to put arnica cream on your ass. That, and get some analgesics in you.”

  He came back with a tumbler of water, two pills, and a jar of the cream that he used to minimize bruising and speed the healing process. Despite his aftercare, she knew that she would feel their session for days.

  This wasn’t the first time that he’d gone Medieval on her ass. It was the longest, though, and he’d used new things. She probably shouldn’t let him know how much she hated the tawse. Sadist that he was, he’d only use it again.

  “I’m gonna take a shower,” he said. “Wash the sweat off. I’ll be quick. No shower for you until morning. If we take one now, I’ll want to fuck you again.”

  He palmed her reddened ass and squeezed it, admiring his work. She gritted her teeth against the pain.

  “Beautiful,” he rumbled, “but I don’t think you’re ready for more right now. Close your eyes, bella. Try to rest, even if you can’t sleep.”

  Beth gladly stayed in bed when Matteo slipped away again, headed for the en-suite. Closing her eyes, she listened to his footfalls cross the room. The door latch clicked as he shut it behind him.

  He didn’t take long. He was ruthlessly efficient in all aspects of life, from hunting monsters to making babies. Right now, an IUD was taking care of the latter. The first one was still a sore point with him. Matteo wouldn’t rest until the man who’d shot him was dead and his family’s honor was avenged. It might hurt her to be his wife, but she pitied anyone who made him an enemy.

  She was thankful that he seemed to care for her, in his own twisted way. For a man so cold, he warmed around their son. He was still more of an observer than a caregiver, but he’d actually managed a grin or two when he was interacting with Dante.

  She couldn’t wait until the baby called him dada. One word might be all it took to find that elusive heart of his. She knew it was in there. She glimpsed it when he was with his family. Otherwise, he kept it safely locked away, hidden from anyone else, including her.

  Matteo came back to bed with fresh, minty breath and skin still warm from the heat of the shower. He lay down beside her and curled his body against her back. Beth drifted asleep, feeling protected if not loved.

  A short time later, she came awake with a start, gripping her stomach and plagued by the sense that something was terribly wrong.

  Her movements woke Matteo. In an instant, he was as wide awake as she was. He flipped on the nightstand’s lamp so that he could look at her. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I don’t know. I had the dream again.” It was a recurring one that she’d had since childhood of dark-clothed men breaking into the house and killing everyone there. “But I couldn’t go back into it. I couldn’t change it. I’ve always called for help or something chases them off, but tonight, they just kept coming and coming. The baby.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, afraid that she might vomit. “Matteo, call Bernardo.” When he looked less than receptive, she begged him. “Please! Oh, please! Something’s wrong. I can feel it. So close. If it’s not there, then here?”

  She looked at the hallway door and tried to not imagine it bursting open. “Please, Matteo! Check with the soldatos. Maybe it’s a warning. Maybe it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe we can change it, make it go away.”

  He thrust his fingers into his hair and shook his head. “It’s a dream, bella. But I’ll check. I—”

  From the nightstand came the ominous ringtone of his father calling his cell phone. Matteo snatched it up, tapped it open, and put it to his ear.

  “I’m here.”

  A knock sounded on the bedroom door. Beth pulled the sheet up to her chin, hiding her nakedness. They knocked, she told herself. It’s one of ours. Bad men wouldn’t bother knocking.

  Beside her, Matteo swore beneath his breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Yes. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  He ended the call and looked at her. His expression was as grim as she’d ever seen it, even when he’d been wounded.

  “Tell me,” she said, bracing herself.

  “They hit the house.” Matteo grabbed his clothes and started throwing them on. “Bernardo’s dead. They took Constanza and Dante. They’re studying the security camera footage for anything they can find. I need you showered in five and ready to leave in ten. Go! Move!” He swiveled his head and yelled towards the hallway door. “Coming!”

  Beth’s heart squeezed. She burst into tears and bit her fist to keep from screaming. Bernardo was dead. Their baby had been kidnapped. That it was done while they were gone was telling.

  This wasn’t about Matteo. It was about his father.

  Her backside protested, but she forced herself out of bed and ran to the en-suite while Matteo went to the hallway door. He had his hand on the knob, ready to open it as soon as she was out of sight.

  The bathroom clock read 1:05. The sun wouldn’t be up for another six hours.

  Beth used the commode while the water warmed. To save time, she lathered up and rinsed immediately off, praying while she washed, wrapping Dante in angel wings and bargaining with God for his safe return. Whoever had taken him had thrown a gauntlet, challenging Dom Visconti’s authority. Those responsible would need to be dealt with decisively.

  They’d left on a one-night honeymoon. They might well be driving back into a war.

  As soon as her shoes were on, Matteo hustled her outside and into his SUV. Their overnight bags had already been thrown in. Beth carried her purse with the filled, single-use syringe that her allergy required her to keep with her at all times. The four soldatos piled into their matching vehicle and followed close behind.

  Beth knew how rattled Matteo was when he didn’t blindfold her. She buckled up and reclined the seat without being told. He shot her a look but said nothing.

  She knew better than to speak without permission. Instead, she wove her fingers together and silently chanted, reciting prayers from every faith that she had ever studied, calling on Archangel Michael, Kwan Yin, Ganesha, and anyone else who was listening to protect and deliver Dante and Constanza.

  The flying trip back to Diamond Springs took thirty-five minutes. Beth put her seat up when they were on the outskirts of town. As they approached the Visconti compound, Matteo made a call that let them pass unchallenged through the gate.

  In the dark, she could see soldatos guarding the house and patrolling the grounds. They pulled to a stop at the front door. Beth grabbed her purse and followed
Matteo inside.

  “My room,” he said gruffly, nodding towards the stairs. “I want you to take a bath. Soak your muscles. Put more arnica cream on when you’re done. After that, try to sleep. If you can’t, then read a book. Watch TV. Whatever. You stay there until I send for you, capisci?”

  “I understand.” He needed her where he could find her on an instant’s notice. Pray to God, it was to share good news, not bad.

  Beth trudged up the stairs, her body hurting, her heart aching. As much as she needed Matteo right now, his father needed him more. Giovanni Visconti was the reason that their son had been taken.

  He was also their best—and possibly their only hope—of getting him back alive.

  22

  Matteo looked at the footage and agreed with his father.

  Carmine was working with the Castellaris.

  The bastard didn’t know that they had cameras covering the neighborhood. He thought that switching cars four blocks down would keep him safe, but the video was damning.

  “They want a million dollars in small, unmarked bills,” his father told him. “And they want you to deliver it. Alone.”

  It was a setup. They both knew it.

  “You should know that I’m not paying. Chances are, the money will disappear along with you and Dante. I’ve got every resource searching for him and one good lead that we’re checking out now. I called in the team already. The helicopters are standing by, ready to go once we have visual confirmation.”

  He might refuse to pay the ransom, but he was willing to spend that much or more to bring Dante home. There was plenty of nighttime left for a stealth strike. The family used the same team of mercenaries, comprised of former special forces, to handle things like this. The Castellaris wouldn’t know what hit them until it was too late.

  “Thank you, Pop.”

  “Once Dante’s been reacquired, I’ll deal with Carmine. He’s dead to me, but his mother….”

  Isadora was the oldest sister, born next after his father. They were close when they were young. Real close, until she married Stefano Botturo. Her loyalty was to her husband now. If Carmine got what was coming to him, it was gonna fucking tear the family apart.

  “Carmine’s wife is from Salerno,” his father mused. “If there’s a problem with immigration, he’ll need to go with Becca. And stay. It’s not what he deserves, but I have to look at the bigger picture. Surely Isadora will see that it’s better to be exiled than dead. Of course,” he added darkly, “I won’t predict how long Carmine will last once he’s there. Hit on the wrong woman, seduce the wrong wife…. Eventually, it will happen. We know this. He can’t help himself.”

  Pop had always blamed it on the bloodline. Carmine’s paternal grandmother was a Castellari. While the Viscontis controlled the area north of the Ohio River in Illinois, the Castellaris were supposed to stay south of it, in Kentucky.

  The Castellari women tended to be early bloomers. The men thought with their dicks from the cradle on. But that didn’t mean shit when it came to Dante. His son was a pawn in a larger game. And pawns were easily expendable.

  If anything happened to him, Beth would hate him.

  Worse, he’d hate himself.

  At least Constanza was with him. He wasn’t with strangers who didn’t know that Tigger was his favorite toy or that he liked listening to Vivaldi and Italian pop ballads by Raf. That he loved squash and hated kale and the only milk he would drink came from his mother’s breasts.

  Fuck.

  Matteo shook himself when emotions threatened to take hold of him. They were a weakness that he couldn’t afford if he wanted to survive.

  He looked at his father, wondering what must be going on inside his head. The poor guy looked like he’d aged five years overnight. “What can I do?” he asked him.

  His father stroked his chin. “Nothing for now. We think that we know where they are. I’m waiting on confirmation before responding to the ransom demand. Until I hear something, go upstairs. See to your wife. This kind of thing is hard on a woman.”

  Normally, he would have waited with his brothers. Marco and Tony were still here from the wedding. Val had come just ahead of him and Beth. But Pop was right. He should see to his wife.

  He had told her to take a bath. Knowing that independent streak of hers, she would want to stay up and wait for news. But she was bone tired. Exhausted from the wedding and a night of kinky sex. Just in case her body overruled that stubborn head of hers, he opened the door noiselessly to keep from waking her.

  Sure enough, she was dead to the world. She lay on her side of the bed, hugging a pillow with her eyes closed. The thick crescent brush of lashes failed to hide the redness around them. Her nose was ruddy, too. Add the tear stains on her pillow, and it looked like she’d cried herself to sleep.

  He wished that he could spare her this. He wished that he could promise that it would never happen again. But when the Castellaris took Dante, they had essentially declared war. Chances were, Kentucky wasn’t enough for them. They wanted Illinois, too. There was no way that they would get it without a fight.

  Mob wars were ugly. They could drag on for years, with heavy casualties on both sides.

  Things were bound to get worse before they got better.

  Working as quietly as he could, he found his black fatigues and combat boots and dressed in the en-suite. When he was done, he sat in a chair and watched Beth sleep.

  A soft rap on the door twenty minutes later made her jerk awake. Shoving himself to his feet, he went to answer it.

  “What?” Beth asked, failing to mask the fear in her voice.

  “Nothing,” he told her. “Go back to sleep.”

  Val was standing in the hall. When he opened his mouth to speak, Matteo signaled him to hold it. Once they reached the stairs, they were far enough away from Beth for Val to fill him in.

  “Dante and Constanza are being held at a rural location an hour from Paducah. The Castellaris use an old tobacco barn for drugs and guns moving through the pipeline. Constanza and the baby are in there, too.”

  Sons of bitches.

  Matteo’s long stride ate up the distance to his father’s office. He was surprised to see Marco and Tony there. His rock star brothers usually turned a blind eye and kept their distance from the family’s dirty business. Living under the media’s microscope, it was better and safer for everyone.

  Matteo looked at his father. “How soon do we go?”

  “Fifteen minutes. The chopper’s ready as soon as you and Val get to it.”

  Both brothers knew the drill. Rendezvous with the team, watch from the background, and let them do their job. Everyone was armed, but it was rare for guns to come out. These men were silent killers. Blades and garrotes were their weapons of choice.

  Matteo nodded. “I’ll meet you out front in five. I need to tell Beth that we’re going.”

  She was pacing the floor by his trophy wall, hugging herself and rubbing her arms, struggling with anxiety that he was only going to make worse.

  “Hey.” Reaching, he took hold of her shoulders and squeezed them. “I can’t give you details, but we’re going after Dante. Val’s waiting for me downstairs. We’re leaving now.”

  Beth pressed her fingers to her lips and burst into tears. “You found him? You know where he is?”

  Smart girl. She didn’t ask for details, just confirmation. Pop had been right about her. She was definitely a keeper.

  “Yeah. There’s enough time to do the extraction while it’s still dark, but we need to move.”

  She threw her arms around his chest and hugged him. “Promise that you’ll come back to me,” she begged. “Whatever happens, whatever you find….if anything happens to Dante…”

  Matteo’s throat tightened. Unable to speak, he kissed the top of her head and smelled the soft scent of her hair.

  “He’s okay.” He managed to push the words past a throat choked with those damn emotions that he’d sworn to never feel. “Constanza’s with him. We’
ll get them out and be back before you know it. I gotta go, bella.”

  Pushing against his chest, she lifted her head and swiped the blur of tears from her eyes. Her sapphire gaze met his with the accuracy of a laser sight. “If anything goes wrong…Matteo, I won’t survive losing the both of you. Whatever happens, you come back to me. Do you hear me? You come back!”

  Shoving her fingers into his hair, she raised on her tiptoes, pulled down his head, and slammed her mouth against his in a desperate kiss.

  “I love you,” she whispered fiercely and kissed him again.

  Damn it all. Those three words broke something inside him. Matteo felt the shift, subtle but certain. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this, but he was powerless as fuck to stop it once her words flew free. He might manage to ignore their impact, but nothing was going to wish them away, or the inexplicable truth of his new reality.

  The truth was, Beth had changed him.

  Dante had changed him.

  He was a husband and a father, and by the Grace of God, he’d bring their baby home.

  He ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve got to go,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with his own tumult of emotion. “With luck, we’ll be back for breakfast. You be good, you hear me? Stay upstairs and out of the way. Pop needs to keep focused. Having Marco and Tony around doesn’t help.”

  “I will,” she promised. “Go get our boy.”

  Her words became his mantra. They echoed in his head when they were taking off. They sounded in his ears when they rendezvoused with the hit squad. They flowed through his veins like molten fire when they had dispatched the soldatos outside the tobacco barn and started taking down everyone inside. Constanza and Dante were assigned to him and Val. The rest of the squad killed all but an unlucky three.

  They’d soon wish they were dead when they were tortured for information.

  Constanza was crouched behind a stack of crates, holding Dante to her chest and trying to comfort him. Seeing Matteo, she burst into tears and started praying in Italian.