Taken: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men of Mayhem Book 3)

by Kristen Luciani

  “I know what I said and I meant it,” he says in a choked voice. “I want what I can’t have. But right now…I don’t fucking care. I need you.”

  His hands fist my hair gently as his lips crash onto mine. Euphoria floods me, igniting every single ember of desire into a raging inferno that consumes my body and mind. His tongue coils with mine — hot, hungry, and intense. I slip my fingers under his t-shirt, running them over the cuts of muscle beneath the thin fabric. They twitch under my fingertips as he leans me back, drinking me in. Waves of delicious sensations crash over me as his fingers tug at the neckline of my shirt and slip my bra straps off of my shoulders.

  “Oh!” I moan as his head dips over my breasts, his mouth feasting on them one at a time. He teases each nipple, sucking and tugging, alternating between his tongue and teeth. I’m so focused on what his mouth is doing to my body right now, that when his thick fingers slide under the hem of my shorts and graze my lace panties, I let out a shocked gasp.

  “Is this okay?” he murmurs.

  My pulse throbs, hammering against my throat. I give my head a quick nod. “Yes,” I rasp. Is it okay? Is he serious? I’ve only fantasized about this practically every waking hour for the past year!

  His lips navigate back toward my mouth, his tongue dipping between my eager lips as his fingers slip inside of me. He works them gently, dragging them in and out of my pussy, flicking my clit with each movement. A jolt zips through me, my body trembling against him as his fingers work faster. My breath comes out of my mouth in short, sharp pants as his thumb works my clit. I squeeze my eyes shut, running my fingers through his thick hair as the delicious tingling sensations zip through me.

  Electricity courses through me, setting my insides on fire…rising, raging flames that blast through every extremity.

  I never want this feeling to end. I want to keep this…him…forever.

  I pant his name and he pulls away, his gaze heavy and hooded. He strokes the sides of my flushed face as his lips curl upward into a smile that makes my heart swell. Then he kisses me again, exactly the way I’d always imagined he would.

  “It’s always been you, Gem,” he whispers against my lips, gently nibbling them as his arms grip me tight.

  In that split second, I know for sure it wasn’t a dream.

  I know what I heard, and it was real.

  I do remember, Tommy.

  And I love you, too…

  A heavy metal song blares out, jolting me from my fantasy become reality and Tommy recoils, just as startled as I am.

  “I have to get that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes as he brushes past me, the taste of his lips lingering on my own.

  Good God, he just ruined me forever.

  “Freddie,” he says in a strained voice, keeping his eyes focused on everything but me. “What’s up?” A slight pause. “Right now?”

  Another pause. This one is longer, and I can see Tommy’s spine stiffen as the seconds click by.

  “Are you sure? How did you—?” He lets out a sigh and presses his fingertips to his temples. “Yeah, I understand. I’ll be right there.”

  Click.

  He stares at the floor for a second and then looks up at me, his eyes guarded.

  Again.

  A chill slithers through my insides, but I force a smile.

  “Everything good?” I ask.

  “Your father needs me.”

  That’s all he says.

  He doesn’t bother to answer my question, which makes me wonder just how not good things are.

  I smooth back my hair and straighten my shirt, trying not to appear disappointed that he needs to leave or confused about what the hell just happened between us and what it means for the future. “Okay.” I walk around the kitchen island, stopping in front of him and searching for something, anything that can convince me what just happened will happen again.

  That he wants it as much as I do.

  “I’m sorry, Gem,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers down my arm. “I have to go. It’s my job.”

  “It’s fine. Do what you need to do. I’ll see you tonight.” I take a deep breath, and my eyes fall to my handbag. Before I grab it, I pull out the wrapped journal and hold it out to him. “You asked before if the writing helps, and I want you to have this so you can see for yourself. Maybe it’ll give you some clarity, too.”

  He holds it for a second in front of his face, then pulls open what I can only describe as a junk drawer. And that’s being generous. He places it on top of a mess of crap and closes the drawer. “Thank you.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “You’re just going to dump my deepest thoughts and feelings into a junk drawer?”

  His brows furrow. “That’s not a junk drawer. I only put the most important things to me in it.” He waves a hand around him. “Remember? My favorite room? Well, that drawer has all of my favorite stuff in it.” He snickers. “Your journal is in good company.”

  My face relaxes into a smile. “Oh,” I say, heat flooding my cheeks. “Well, thanks. That’s flattering.”

  Tommy reaches out, squeezing my hand as I pass. “I’ll see you later.”

  I give a quick nod. “Later,” I repeat, opening the door and pulling it closed behind me.

  I squint into the bright morning sunlight as I walk toward my gleaming silver car, a smile teasing my lips. My pulse throbs in the exact spot where his lips first grazed my skin.

  He won’t work for Papa forever.

  This can happen, I know it.

  I believe it.

  I feel it.

  My birthday wish come true.

  Chapter Seven

  Tommaso

  I stare into the steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of me. The hospital café is empty at this hour, and the only other people down here are doctors and nurses in between shifts. But at least it’s quiet, which is more than I can say for the waiting room. When eight o’clock hit, people flooded the place with injuries and afflictions.

  I drum my fingertips on the Formica tabletop. Being immersed in that noise was a more effective distraction. Maybe I should have just stayed put.

  Heavy footsteps behind me get louder and I lift my head from my hand to see who’s intruding on my infuriatingly quiet moment alone.

  My brother Vince’s harsh stare meets mine, and I let out a groan. “Shiiiiit.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Good morning to you, too, fucko.”

  My hands fall onto the table and I slink back against the hard plastic chair. “What are you doing here?”

  Vince narrows his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit attitude. I wanted to check on you since you’ve been ignoring my calls and texts. I was afraid I might find you in the morgue.”

  “You don’t give me enough credit,” I grumble. I peer at my phone screen and see the strings of texts and missed calls. “Sorry I didn’t respond earlier. I shut off the ringer.”

  Vince shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the seat. I see how the nurses gape at him, drool spilling from their lips as he sinks into the chair across from me.

  I shake my head and smirk. My brother always seems to have that effect on women wherever he goes, even wearing his shittiest and most faded Black Sabbath t-shirt.

  I say most faded because he has quite a few shitty and faded t-shirts from his favorite heavy metal bands. I think he listens to that crap because he needs something to drown out the voices in his own head sometimes.

  It’s why I listen to that crap.

  He folds his massive arms over his chest. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

  “Why? So you can pound me with more I told you sos?”

  He shrugs. “I might throw one in for good measure. Christ only knows, you deserve it for all of the dumbass moves you’ve made in the last year.”

  I rub the stress knot lodged at the base of my skull. “Let’s not rehash them.”

  “Fine. I don’t have ten years to go through them all, anyway. Now tell me what the fuck happened t
onight.”

  I let out a sigh. “Marco DeVito is…was…the one working against Freddie. He was supposed to communicate tonight with whoever put the hit on Freddie, clearing a path for the shooter. We knew someone in Freddie’s crew was working against him, but tonight it was confirmed that Marco gave up the old man.”

  “Do we know who the shooter is?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. But if I had to guess, I’d say it was the Colombians. Freddie fucked them over really good and cost them millions when he hijacked their shipments a few months back. It could also explain why he’s working with the Mexicans now. He needs a strong ally if he’s gonna go up against the head of the Colombian cartel, that psychotic bitch, Sofia Rojas.”

  “And where is Marco?”

  “Dead. In a trunk.”

  “Great. Lemme take one guess about how that happened. Gio?”

  I roll my eyes. “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!”

  “Jesus…” Vince mutters.

  “Yeah.”

  Vince’s lips form a hard line. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, it means he’s fucked.”

  “No, it means we’re all fucked.” Vince hisses, slamming his fist onto the table and gripping the sides of his head. “We needed Marco alive, Tommy. He was our only link to Sofia Rojas.” He tugs at his hair. “The same cartel that’s trying to get access to our Mediterranean ports.”

  My brow furrows. “When did you hear that?”

  Vince sighs, collapsing against the back of his chair. “Yesterday. I heard that Sofia showed up in Monaco and is working Cristian really hard right now to get access to our ports. She wants to control them so she can move women, drugs, and guns around Europe and Asia, and if she doesn’t get what she wants…” He scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “You’ve heard the stories. She’ll kill whoever she needs to until she gets control. Look, you know we planted you in Cassarella’s crew to track Marco so we’d know every move the Colombians were gonna make. They want revenge for everything Freddie stole from them, but they won’t stop with just killing him. They’ll destroy anyone who cockblocks them and their business. That’s us. Sofia is a brutal bitch, and she’s looking to make a name for herself. Without Marco, we don’t know their next move or when they’ll strike next. And because of Gio, Marco, our only lead, is probably in pieces right now, buried in a very fucking shallow grave on the side of some farm road. You were supposed to keep that idiot under control!”

  “What the hell was I supposed to do? Gio got a bug up his ass and dragged Marco out of the party tonight. I figured he’d just muscle him a little, you know, beat the shit out of him just to show his dipshit friends that he still has some control. But Marco,” I shake my head. “The guy never knew when to shut the hell up and he kept saying shit to egg Gio on, almost like he had a death wish or something. Gio was drunk and pissed off, so he played right in and shot the motherfucker.” I clench my fists. “You know how he is! If I pissed him off, he’d have shot me, too, and then where would you be with your little reconnaissance project?”

  “Gio was Freddie’s excuse to keep you close,” Vince grumbles. “The only reason he showed any interest in you was because he wanted an in, just like the Colombians. Everyone wants a piece of the money pie,” he says in a tired voice. “Pop’s pride and joy, that fucking shipping company, has cost us so much — lives, cash — and the sharks smell blood. They’re coming. But we can’t fight what we can’t see, Tommy. And without Marco, we’re fucking blind again and vulnerable to an attack.”

  I never had any delusions about working for Freddie. I knew he was into some sick shit, but I didn’t care as long as it didn’t conflict with my family’s interests. That’s what my real job was…making sure Freddie kept his shit far away from ours and keeping tabs on anyone who could crush what we’ve built. That shipping business is our livelihood, but because we shut out anyone who smuggles women, we’ve made a lot of enemies over the past few years. There’s no shortage of scumbags who’d be very happy to exterminate our asses and steal it from us.

  “Since Marco and Freddie are both dead, your job here is finished. Freddie isn’t a threat to us anymore. I need you back so you can help defend our organization, remember? The one you were born into?” Vince’s eyes harden. “You need to walk away from this…from them. Now. Do you understand me?”

  “Look, I get that your little plan backfired, but I can’t walk away now,” I say, my voice rising in desperation. “I was supposed to watch Freddie, and I let him get shot tonight because I lost my focus. It’s my fault this happened! Without Freddie, his family will never survive. The Colombians will—”

  “They might. They might not,” Vince says, narrowing his eyes. “But that’s not your problem anymore. He made his bed and now his family has to sleep in it. Maybe he should have thought about his family a little more while he was collecting hundreds of thousands of dollars for stolen pussy,” he growls, leaning toward me, murder in his gaze. “He kidnapped those women, addicted them to drugs, sold thousands, and killed plenty of others when they tried to fight against him. Innocent women who could have had a future, Tommy. Women like Gianna, do you get that? Our sister is a target for people like him! He deserved to die for what he did to all of those women and their families! And don’t give me the crap about how this is your fault and you need to make up for letting Freddie die on your watch. This is about Gemma. And I’m gonna tell you right now that you need to disappear from her life, Tommy. I warned you from the very beginning to stay away from her, and you didn’t fucking listen! You ignored everything I told you, and now you want to put all of us at risk because you’re being led around by your dick?”

  “She’s in surgery upstairs, fighting to stay alive right now,” I say through clenched teeth. “How the fuck can you expect me to just—?”

  “Because you answer to me, goddammit! And you’d better start remembering that!” Vince looks around the café and turns back to me, expelling a frustrated sigh. “Look, you need to stay far away from this shit show, and we need to figure out how to protect ourselves from the Colombians. Sofia is closing in fast and she’ll take a machete to the head of anyone who stands in her way. Do you really want to be the one whose head ends up on a spit? We need to protect our organization from people like her, not take another massive hit because Gemma gives you cock tingles. It’s over, Tommy. Your loyalty needs to be to your own family, not the Cassarellas.” He points a finger at me, his jaw twitching with anger. “It’s time to say goodbye. Figure out a way to do it, or I will,” he growls, before pushing back his chair and stalking out of the café.

  Chapter Eight

  Gemma

  I open my eyes a crack, squinting in the bright fluorescent lights overhead. A sharp pain slices through my left side as I shift on the bed, and I croak out a low groan through my dry, cracked lips. The scent of antiseptic cleaner assaults my nostrils, so thick in the air that I almost choke.

  It smells clean.

  Sterile.

  White.

  A stark contrast to the dark red cloud that stains my mind and the jagged pieces of my memory. I clutch the bedsheet in my fists.

  Wait, where the fuck am I?

  I slowly turn my head to one side where a stream of light peeks into the pulled curtains. My mother’s body is folded over in a recliner next to the window, and memories pop between my ears like exploding bullets.

  My Sweet Eighteen, what was supposed to be the happiest night of my life.

  The elaborately decorated room, draped in black, white, and sparkles, filled with family and friends excited to celebrate with me.

  Tommy looking like sex on a stick in his tux, undressing me with his deep, dark eyes.

  Tommy…

  The rush of anger and agony consumes me as the rest of the evening unravels in my mind.

  Tommy’s hands on my hips, squeezing me tight, his heart racing against mine.

  Tommy’s harsh words shattering my heart and m
y dreams for a future together.

  Papa taking my hand and spinning me around the dance floor to our song, fear for our family etched into his lined face.

  Tommy watching us on the dance floor, anguish and regret soaked into his features.

  He was supposed to protect Papa.

  Papa!

  A choked gasp escapes my lips and tears spring to my eyes. “No!”

  Mama jumps up from the chair, startled, her face, makeup-streaked and blotchy. “Gemma, mi amore.” She leans over me, stroking the side of my face as the tears slide down our cheeks. “Thank God. I was so afraid we were going to lose you, too.”

  “No,” I weep. “Don’t say that! He’s alive. He has to be alive! Please tell me he’s okay!”

  Mama sniffles, but she doesn’t respond. She just dips her head lower and grazes my forehead with her lips, hugging me tight against her as my body quakes with grief.

  “Is it true?” I finally rasp, once I am able to breathe through the sobs wracking my body.

  She nods. “Yes,” she says, her voice trembling.

  That one little word immediately turned my world into one clouded by despair, agony, and grief.

  “What happened?” I ask, squeezing her hands tight. “Who did it?”

  “There was a shooter who somehow got into the party,” Mama says in a quiet voice. “He managed to get close, and you and your father were both shot. One of the bullets went through you and hit him in the stomach. He…” Her voice cracks and her shoulders shake, but she doesn’t stop. “He died before we got to the hospital.”

  “I saw him with Tommy before we danced. He was upset about something. So was Tommy. I asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me. Oh my God,” I whimper. “Could we have stopped it? Did Tommy know? Was he trying to get Papa away from there?” The machines surrounding me bleep louder and faster as the hysterics start. My chest heaves as the realization crashes over me. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t we run?”