Savage Ruler: A Dark Italian - Irish Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Sinfully Savage)

by Kristen Luciani

  “Guys, this is it,” I hiss. “We move now or else we lose him.”

  Screams erupt into the air, and the girls who aren’t too incapacitated to move escape the rooms where they were being held. They scurry around, not sure where to run, but desperate enough to figure out a path. I take a deep breath and push open the door, only to find that it’s locked.

  “Fuck!” I whisper-shout. “We need to get in there!”

  Sergio kicks a leg out and the door crashes open. We dart inside and slam it closed again, turning to take in the den of sex and sin that greets us. My eyes water from the thick clouds of marijuana smoke that hang in the air as I walk around. It’s a sectioned-off space with several different ‘rooms’ and lots of moaning.

  “Stay here,” I say in a low voice. “Keep an eye out. I’m going for Dominguez.”

  With a racing heart, I peer into each curtained-off area until I find him in a dimly lit room, spread-eagle on a leather sofa.

  I know it’s Dominguez as soon as I see his portly body, greased-back hair, and thick mustache. He’s got a blunt hanging out of his mouth, a stream of smoke billowing into the air above him.

  He’s naked from the waist down, a young girl who looks to be about sixteen on her knees in front of him, sucking his dick. I can see the tears glistening on her cheeks and my gut clenches. I take a few steps toward him, waiting for a guard to jump out at any second.

  But he’s alone from what I can tell.

  Weird.

  The guy is worth billions. He’d really leave himself that vulnerable?

  I clutch the knife in my hand as I creep toward him. His eyes are drooped closed as he face-fucks the girl, and my vision takes on a deep red haze as my thoughts trip back to the hospital where my husband lies on a gurney in critical condition.

  Because of this pig of a man.

  My blood bubbles to the point of eruption as I inch closer, so close, the noxious scent of his cologne making me retch. I reach out, closing my hand around his neck. His eyes flutter open, red and bloodshot. His mustache quirks upward as he smiles at me.

  “Did you really think you’d be able to turn the tables on me, Heaven? You thought you could beat me at my own game, didn’t you? Your husband couldn’t stop me, and neither can you.”

  “You tried hard, Dominguez. But you failed,” I seethe.

  “Your whole family failed!” he thunders. “When your brother took the life of my daughter, you all failed! But you will pay, Heaven. Your family, the Villanis. What happens today doesn’t matter. There is still a debt to be paid, and you will all suffer just as my family has!”

  I squeeze my hand harder and he grips my wrist with more force than I’d think he could muster since he’s probably higher than the fucking heavens right now. “No,” I say, my voice shaking. “This is over, right now! You’re finished!” I scream, my voice piercing the air. The girl who’d been sucking him off scrambles away, seeking refuge in a corner of the room. “Take your debts and shove them up your fat ass, ese!”

  Gunshots explode behind me, the impact so close, it rattles my brain. A loud crashing sound makes me shudder as I clutch Dominguez’s thick neck. I shriek, panic crushing me as I yelp my brother’s name.

  “Heaven! Get out now!”

  It’s not Conor’s voice but Sergio’s. My skin prickles, fury consuming me as the realization strikes. Someone’s gotten into the room. Someone has hurt Conor.

  But I won’t leave. Not yet.

  No matter what.

  “We need to leave! He’s been—"

  Sergio’s voice comes to a stuttering halt, and more bullets pop into the air.

  I let out a roar, kicking my foot against Dominguez’s chest, sending the couch flying back against the floor. A strong hand grips my hair, flinging me against the plaster wall. I slam into it, my temple throbbing from the collision. I blink a couple of times, trying to clear my vision. I can make out a snickering Dominguez as he staggers to his feet, not even bothering to pull up his pants. The hand that flung me into the wall is back to grab me again.

  I spin around, dragging the tip of my knife down the front of his abdomen, paralyzing his ability to retaliate. I slash the top of his wrist for good measure, rendering his hand completely useless.

  His weapon clatters to the floor since I’ve just cut off his ability to fire it. I kick it far enough away where I can bend and grab it, turning toward my assailant and firing two shots to his chest.

  He falls to the ground like a bag of cement, and I turn toward Dominguez who finally looks like he knows how fucked he is right now.

  “You thought he was the right guy to protect you? Maybe you shouldn’t have been so fucking doped up when you made the choice to have him guard you and your peanut-sized cock!” I sway toward him, my head still splitting from the harsh blow to my temple. “So what was I saying before?” I rasp, raising the gun and pointing it to his forehead. I pause for a breath, my shoulders quaking. “Oh, right. You’re finished.”

  I fire off as many shots as the gun has, watching the bullets make his body jerk left, right, and sideways as they plunder his insides.

  The girl on the floor screams, clutching the sides of her head as I empty the clip, dropping the gun once he falls to the ground like the sack of shit he is.

  My chest heaves as I run on my wobbly legs toward my brother and Sergio.

  Conor writhes on the floor, Sergio kneeling right next to him. There’s a bloodstain spreading over his shirt, and his face is paler than usual. But he’s alive. Awake. And I feel a strange sensation flood my insides.

  Relief.

  Interesting considering that only yesterday, I’d wished him dead at least ten times.

  Three more of Dominguez’s crew lay around them. Sergio looks up at me, his ice-blue eyes narrowed. “Your brother didn’t get the badass gene that you did. All of this work?” He points to himself. “Me.”

  “Fuck off, Sergio,” Conor mumbles. “I took this bullet for you.”

  “Tell whatever story you want, buddy,” Sergio says with an eye roll in my direction. “But if it wasn’t for me, you’d be guzzling beer and scarfing potatoes in hell. You took the bullet ’cause you couldn’t get out of its fucking way.”

  Conor continues to mutter some semi-intelligible things and I step over the bodies, peering out the door that’s been halfway blown to bits. It’s complete and utter chaos outside of this room, and judging from the distant and blaring sirens, we don’t have much time to get away from here. Sergio and I hoist Conor up and drag him out of the room, sticking close to the walls.

  Dominguez’s crew scatters like cockroaches, and the captive girls flee in droves.

  Nobody pays much attention to us as we drag my brother to the car and ease him into the backseat. The transports disband as the sirens get closer and the girls run from the building in hordes. I shake my head watching them tear through the park.

  All of those women…

  They’d have all but vanished from existence once they were transported to the auction sites, sold away into slavery or God only knows what else. A shiver runs through me and I put my hand on Sergio’s arm.

  “We need to get out of here. You drive, I’ll take your phone.”

  He tosses it to me, slamming his foot on the gas. The car jerks backward and he throws it into drive, peeling around the bend and kicking up a cloud of dirt in our wake.

  With shaking fingers, I go to his recent calls, see Roman’s name, and click the call button. I toy with my engagement ring, using my thumb to slide it around my finger. It rings once…twice…three times.

  But nobody picks up.

  My pulse rockets and I scrub a hand down the front of my face.

  There can be a million reasons why.

  The ringer might be off.

  The phone may have slipped out of Roman’s pocket and he doesn’t realize it’s gone.

  He might not have service in the hospital.

  He might be talking to the doctor.

  Fea
r clutches me like an icy cold hand to the throat, squeezing hard and constricting my breath.

  “What happened? Voicemail?”

  “Yeah,” I choke.

  Sergio’s jaw tightens as he heads back downtown toward the hospital. “Don’t get crazy,” he says. “You don’t know why he’s not answering.”

  I nod, blinking fast to keep the tears in check. Jesus Christ, I’m the lead car in the hot mess express right now. My husband, my unbeknownst enemy, is lying on a hospital bed right now fighting for his life, and while I have so much to say to him…so many things to yell at him…I have no idea if I’ll even get the chance.

  I also don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look him in the eye again and tell him that despite everything, I’m evidently a glutton for punishment and I love him.

  I wring my hands, staring at the phone in my lap, silently willing it to ring.

  It doesn’t.

  Half an hour later, we’re back at the hospital. I get out and motion for an orderly to help me lug Conor inside while Sergio parks the car. I rub my hands down my arms, chewing the inside of my mouth as I follow close behind them. Each step is more tentative than the last, as if my body knows what my mind refuses to comprehend.

  My eyes dart left and right once we walk inside, and I stop short when I see Matteo’s other brothers and father huddled in a corner. Roman sees me first and looks up, his gaze heavy, his forehead pinched. I blow out a few short breaths to keep control of myself before heading toward them.

  “You didn’t answer your phone,” I say in a choked voice.

  Roman furrows his brow and looks down at it. “Service is shit,” he mutters.

  I nod. “Have you heard anything?”

  Dante shakes his head, pushing back his longish, dark hair. “No,” he grunts.

  “No news is good news,” Sergio says, coming up behind us.

  “No news is no news,” Roman barks, getting up from the chair and walking away from the group. His brothers go after him as he stomps toward the nurses’ station.

  I completely agree. I always thought that was a stupid saying, as if it can sugarcoat the inevitable because the news is just a little bit delayed.

  I meet the tired and drawn eyes of Paolo, who is hunched over in the chair across from me, his head in his hands.

  My father-in-law.

  I can see the pain etched into his features, the knowledge that his oldest son and right hand is lying helpless in a hospital right now as he is slowly plummeting into an abyss of grief.

  “He’s a good man,” he says to me in a thick Italian accent. “He was doing right by his family.”

  “And wrong by mine,” I say in a low voice. “By me.”

  Paolo nods. “Yes. And I could tell yesterday how conflicted he was about his decision to partner with Dominguez. He was not himself at all. He was torn between wanting to control his future and wanting something else.” He nods at me. “The love of his wife.”

  “He was about to sell me out along with the rest of my family,” I whisper, my lips quivering.

  “That was the original plan, yes,” Paolo muses. “But over the past weeks, something changed. Yesterday wasn’t about business. I can tell you that my son isn’t the type to fall hard and fast for any woman. But you changed that. It was written all over his face, and when Dominguez lashed out, threatening your life, I knew Matteo would do everything to stop him and to keep you safe, even if it meant the cartel would declare open season on my family as well.”

  “And you supported that? You weren’t angry that he abandoned his obligations to the family by going up against Dominguez?”

  Paolo shrugs his shoulders. “When Matteo was younger, he wasn’t as, ah, structured in his ways as he is today. He suffered a lot of loss and it taught him a lot. I watched him become the man he is today, a strong, disciplined, and strategic thinker. I trust him and his decisions. We may not always agree on the ‘how’, but we agree on the ‘what’. Family and loyalty are most important. If you have those things, you can battle any enemy.” Paolo takes my hand in his. “And he needs an equally strong woman by his side.”

  “He saved my life,” I say, my voice trembling “After I’d overheard the whole plot this morning. He came after me…to protect me.”

  “Because he loves you,” Paolo says. “I know you’re confused and you feel that he betrayed you, but he wants to make it right. Give him the chance to do what he vowed to do.”

  I let out a deep sigh, my shoulders sagging.

  If only I get that chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Matteo

  “Matteo, can you hear me?”

  A male voice pulls me out of the thick web of fog consuming my conscious mind and I shift in its direction. I clench my teeth, what feels like a searing flame incinerating the left side of my body.

  “The medication is going to kick in soon,” he continues. “I’m Dr. Savia. Do you remember what happened to you, Matteo?”

  I blink fast, the harsh fluorescent lights making me squint. “There was a shooting…”

  Dr. Savia nods. “From what I hear, you saved a woman’s life by diving in front of her.”

  “My wife,” I rasp. “Is she okay?”

  “As far as I know, only you and a Declan Mulligan were brought in.”

  “Declan,” I mutter. “What about him? Do you know anything?”

  “Minor wound. He’s been patched up and will be discharged soon.” Dr. Savia shakes his head. “I don’t know the circumstances of why you were in the middle of a shootout, but you were damn lucky to have gotten to this Level 1 trauma center when you did. If you hadn’t,” he says with a shake of his head. “It’s very likely we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. You were hit with a high-caliber bullet, which should have killed you. But like I said, you’re a lucky man. It didn’t tear up your insides, but it punctured a lung and nicked an artery, two injuries that would have been deadly if we didn’t get you into surgery immediately upon arrival.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Like I said. Lucky.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “The cops are here waiting to talk to you,” Dr. Savia continues. “They’ll want details of the shooting, but I have a feeling you already know how these procedurals work.” He grins. “I told them you were still in recovery, so that buys you some time.”

  “Thanks,” I rasp. Christ, it hurts to take in a breath. “When did you say the medication would kick in?”

  He grins, backing out of the room. “Soon. Any last requests?”

  “Yeah, can you find my wife?”

  “I’ll go and check the waiting room. I’m sure you want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “And to make sure we’re still married,” I grumble, letting my head fall toward the window. The blinds are drawn but slivers of light peek in.

  Looks like a beautiful day for new beginnings.

  To me, anyway.

  I seriously doubt Heaven will feel the same way.

  She’s brutal, unforgiving, and ruthless, qualities I loved even though I’d always known they’d be directed at me.

  So now I’m looking at two potential and lethal enemies — my soon-to-be ex-wife and Dominguez.

  Jesus, did this plan ever backfire on me.

  I’m the guy who’s supposed to maintain control, not the one who invites in chaos.

  Now the latter is what controls me and my future.

  The tips of my fingers and toes tingle, and I flex and unflex them to rid myself of the sensation. But instead of stopping it, it travels up my legs and down my arms.

  I clench my teeth as the unsettling sensation creeps through my insides.

  A knock on the door jolts me. I jerk my head toward the door, wincing as the pain in my side intensifies at the sudden movement.

  Heaven’s head pops inside and my breath hitches as she approaches the bed, twisting her engagement ring.

  At least she’s still wearing it.

  “How are you feeling?” she murmurs, s
lowly inching toward me.

  “Like someone lanced me with a hot poker,” I say. “But the doc says I should feel lucky.”

  She nods. “Do you?”

  “Not if I’m about to lose the one thing I tried to protect.” I hear the words come out of my mouth and feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Maybe that gunshot wound did more damage than the doctor realizes. How I can feel this way so soon…at all…is beyond my comprehension.

  Love.

  Fuck me.

  But if honesty is the price I have to pay, it’s a check I’m all too willing to write.

  “I hated you a few hours ago,” she says, her eyebrows knitting together.

  “What about now? Do you still hate me?”

  “Well, I had a little time to work out my anger issues,” she says, the corners of her lips curling upward.

  “Oh yeah? How’d you do that?” I ask, lacing her fingers with mine, which are growing number by the second.

  “I stormed the Dominguez compound and iced the bastard,” she says with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

  My eyes widen. “You went into his fucking neighborhood? Are you crazy?”

  She nods, her blue eyes glittering. “I wasn’t alone. Sergio and Conor came with me.”

  The numbness travels up my torso and down my arms, making my fingers go limp in hers.

  “You could have been killed,” I mumble, my tongue suddenly feeling thick and dry like a wad of cotton was stuffed into it.

  “But I wasn’t,” she says, swaying closer to the bed.

  “What about Serge and Conor?” My vision goes hazy and the sharp lights now look like clouds hovering over Heaven’s head.

  “Conor got himself shot,” she says with an eye roll. “But Sergio and I got him out of there. We saved a lot of girls today, Matteo,” she says, her eyes shiny with tears. “I wish I’d have been able to do the same for Molly, but at least I helped someone. A lot of someones who now will have the chance to live.”

  “You’re an amazing woman,” I whisper, fatigue crashing over me like an all-consuming wave. “I love you.”

  “Thank you for saving my life,” she says, leaning down to graze the side of my face.