Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One (8 page)

She didn’t say anything, and when he stepped closer, he knew immediately that something was wrong. There were purple smudges under her eyes, and she was at least two shades paler than she’d been in his apartment. Then he saw her blouse, the one he’d left for her last night, and the two safety pins barely keeping it closed.

He was taking in the rest of her, trying to stop the tide of rage building inside him, when his gaze stopped on her arm. It was ringed with deep violet, clearly left by someone’s hand.

“What happened?”

She flinched, and he realized his voice had gone cold. It was the voice he used for the worst of his business associates, the ones Nico didn’t think twice about hurting. He hadn’t meant to use it with Angel, but the sight of her scared, wounded, caused a visceral reaction in him, and he had to fight the urge to put his fist through one of the walls.

She turned her face away. “Nothing.”

He stepped closer and took her chin in his hand, gently tipping her face up until she was looking at him. “Tell me.”

“I guess your friends expect you to share.” She spat the words at him, her eyes defiant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Please elaborate.”

“Let’s just say Dante wanted in on the action after I left your apartment last night.”

Her voice was calm and steady, but he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. It made him admire her all over again. It was one thing to be too stupid to be scared. It was something else to be terrified and keep your head up anyway.

“Did he touch you?”

She glanced down at her arm. “You could say that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re getting at. But only because I lied.”

“How so?”

“I told him you wouldn’t like it if he did,” she said.

“That’s an understatement.” Nico thought he might snap from the fury flooding his body. He took a deep breath and stepped back from her. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” There was a hint of hysteria in her laughter. “I’m as alright as I can be imprisoned in this room, wondering if every day is the day I’m going to die. Or worse.”

He nodded. “I’ll have Luca bring you some clothes. You have my word that you’ll never see Dante here again.”

He left the bag of food on the desk and headed for the door, anxious to reach the hall before his temper got the best of him.

Stepping outside the room, he locked the door and strode to the stairwell. His mind cleared as he took the steps two at a time, the anger that had made him feel hot and out of control receding to make room for cold, hard fury as he headed for the gym.

He burst through the doors and stopped, taking inventory of the bodies occupying the space. Luca was beating on a heavy bag while Marco worked with the Judo coach nearby. In the boxing ring, Gideon and Anthony circled each other, taking jabs when they could get one in.

He turned his eyes to the free weights, his gaze coming to rest on Dante, laying mid-press on one of the benches.

Peeling off his jacket, Nico tossed it aside as he strode across the floor. His soldiers were starting to notice his arrival, but he ignored their greetings, homing in on Dante like a heat-seeking missile, then grabbing hold of his right leg and pulling him out from under the bar in one smooth motion.

Dante lost his grip on the bar, and it crashed to the bench, narrowly missing his head, on its way to the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the fuck…” It was all he had time to say before Nico threw him to the ground, silencing him with a series of punishing punches to the face.

Nico felt none of the rage he had felt in the basement with Angel. Now the stormy sea of his mind was dead calm, nothing in it but the satisfaction of hearing the bones in Dante’s face crunch under his fists. He punched and punched. He punched until Dante stopped moving, until his eyes were closed and he thought Dante might be dead.

Finally, the pace of his punches slowed, then stopped. The room was as quiet as a church. No one moved.

He waited until his breathing was under control to stand. Luca handed him his jacket.

“Take out this trash,” Nico said, slipping his arms into the jacket. “Confiscate his keys and revoke his permissions immediately. Make sure everyone on the street knows that he is no longer affiliated with the Vitale family.”

Luca nodded, his face impassive. “You got it, boss.”

Nico hurriedly walked past the shocked faces in the gym. He had meetings all day.

14

“Brought you some Thai food this time,” Luca said, entering the room. “I hope that’s okay.”

He shut the door, but this time he didn’t lock it. Did they believe she was too scared to make a run for it? Somehow she didn’t think so. She heard Nico’s voice in his apartment.

Do you think I need a gun to make you do what I want you to do?

The gun had never been necessary. She understood that now. Luca had used it because it was a show of force she could understand. But he didn’t need it. None of them did.

She threw her legs over the side of the bed. “Fine.”

She’d given up her hunger strike. In the face of Dante’s assault the day before, it seemed childish and ineffectual. Nico was right; starving herself wouldn’t change anything. She needed to be smart, keep up her strength in case an opportunity to escape presented itself.

Luca set the food on the desk and glanced at her. “Clothes fit okay?”

She nodded. He had brought her two shopping bags full of clothes yesterday, and she’d been surprised to find not only a new blouse, but jeans, a long skirt, two t-shirts, socks, a pair of ballet flats, and even underclothes. She’d felt embarrassed by the bra and panties until she realized some assistant had probably bought them. She couldn’t imagine Luca doing it—even though Luca seemed to be in charge of bringing her things—and she didn’t want to think about Nico choosing the lacy garments with her in mind. It was too personal. Too reminiscent of their moment in his kitchen.

He couldn’t know how desperate she was to ditch the clothes she’d been wearing when Dante put his hands on her, but was still grateful.

“I’m glad.” He pulled a book out of his back pocket and handed it to her.

She looked down at the cover. “To the Lighthouse?”

He shrugged. “The lady at the bookstore said you can’t go wrong with Virginia Woolf. Nico thought it might help you pass the time.”

She looked up at him. “Nico knows about this?”

“He’s the one who suggested it.” Luca stuck his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “He’s not a bad guy, you know.”

“You care about him,” she said.

“Love him like a brother. Would take a bullet for him without a second thought.”

His voice had gone hard, and she had no doubt that he meant every word. What kind of history did the two men share to breed that kind of loyalty? Or was it just a mob thing?

“It’s kind of hard to see him as a good guy when he’s responsible for the fact that I’ve been locked in this room for the last week,” she finally said.

He nodded. “I understand. I just want you to know there’s more there than meets the eye.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you care what I think of Nico?”

“Because he does.” He turned around. “Enjoy your lunch.”

He closed the door behind him, and this time he locked it.

She dropped onto the bed, still holding the book in her hands. Nico cared what she thought of him? Hard to believe under the circumstances. He’d been angry when he saw what Dante had done to her—when he’d heard what Dante had almost done. But Nico was keeping her prisoner to further his business interests. If he was angry at Dante, it was only because he had violated orders, not because Nico cared. It would take a lot more than a book and some clothes to make her believe otherwise. This was probably some kind of mind fuck designed to get her to trust them.

She dug into the Thai food and opened the book, feeling as close to content as she’d come since the day she’d been kidnapped. She ached to talk to her brother, to know what was going on with her father and why he hadn’t given into Nico’s demands—whatever they were. But she had food and a good book. It was enough for now.

She had just finished eating when the key rattled in the lock. She looked up, her heart picking up its pace. Nico had said Dante wouldn’t be back, but she still felt a jolt of fear when she thought of him.

A moment later the door opened, and Nico stepped into the room.

He avoided her gaze as he made his way to the desk. Spinning the chair around, he placed it a couple of feet away and sat down. She lowered her eyes as the silence stretched between them. The knuckles of his right hand were scraped and bruised. She wondered if he was a boxer.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry about yesterday. That’s not the way I do business.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She couldn’t keep the note of sarcasm from her voice. He might not be a rapist, but he was still keeping her hostage. If not raping someone was the measuring stick for being a good guy, it was a pretty low bar.

“We need to talk,” he said. “I’m trying to make you comfortable, but this can’t continue for much longer. I need information.”

His voice was steely. Where was the Nico she’d met in his apartment? The one with the gentle voice? The tender but passionate touch?

She pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn’t afford to think about him like that.

“I don’t know what I could possibly tell you,” she said.

“I need information about your father.”

Was her father in danger? Would giving Nico the information he wanted put her father at risk? On the other hand, hearing what Nico wanted to know might give her some leverage, or at least help her understand what he he was hoping to gain.

“It seems like you already know a lot about him,” she said.

Nico studied her face, and she felt her cheeks grow hot with the intensity of his stare. “He hasn’t contacted us. We need to know where he might be hiding.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know I’m missing,” she said.

“He knows.” There was an ominous kind of certainty in his voice.

“We aren’t very close.” She was surprised to hear her voice crack. Like admitting it out loud somehow made it more true. “We don’t talk very often.”

“He knows,” Nico repeated coldly. “We’re aware of the house in Boston, the apartment on the West Side, and the house in Miami. We need to know where else he might be hiding.”

“I… I don’t know,” she said.

She jumped as he slammed a hand down on the desk at his side. “You’re only hurting yourself, Angel.”

She was torn between relief at his use of the nickname (it had to mean something, didn’t it?) and fear at his frustration. She’d only seen him a couple of times before this, but he’d always been in perfect control. Even the first day when he’d been angry that she wasn’t eating.

She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I want you to make it possible for me to let you go without hurting you.”

She looked up at him and felt desire roll through her body. She was more fucked up than she realized if she could still want this man while he was threatening her. How could she ever have thought he wouldn’t hurt her? Stupid.

“I already told you; we aren’t close. I see him a couple times a year when he’s upstate. We used to take vacations, but since I graduated, we don’t even do that.” It sounded pathetic, and she suddenly hated Nico for making her say it all out loud.

“Where do you spend holidays?” he asked.

“I spent last Christmas with my brother in my apartment.” Her voice had become as cold as his.

“Where did your father spend the holiday?”

“In Boston, as far as I know,” she said.

He stood and paced the room. “Where did you used to go on vacation?” He continued without waiting for her to answer. “Who are his closest friends? Come on, Angel! Help yourself.”

She threw up her hands, standing as her anger built. “We went to different resorts in Hawaii, the Bahamas. We went to Tahiti once. I don’t remember the names of the places we stayed. You’re asking for information I don’t have. My father was obsessed with his business. It was all he thought about. He didn’t have time for walks on the beach or long phone conversations.” She stepped closer to him as she continued ranting. “And you know what? He may not be a great father, but he’s a decent man! Whatever you want with him, he doesn’t deserve to be hunted like an animal!”

It had been a mistake to get close to him. His scent enveloped her, his raw power filling the space between them, pulling her in like a predator luring its prey.

“A decent man?” he said softly. “Is that what you think?”

It wasn’t what she expected. “It’s what I know.”

“What you know?”

She swallowed hard, dread pulling her under like quicksand. “Yes.”

He held her gaze, and she had to resist the urge to lift her hand to his neck, push her fingers into his hair, dark as a raven, pull his mouth to hers.

“Luca!” he shouted.

It startled her, and she let her eyes skip to the door as Luca stepped through it. He was carrying something in his arms, but it wasn’t until he got closer that she realized they were newspapers.

“Set them on the desk,” Nico ordered.

Luca put them down, glancing at her as he headed for the door. She thought she saw an apology in his eyes, although she couldn’t imagine why Luca would be sorry. He was the only person who’d been decent to her since this whole mess began.

Nico picked up the newspaper on top, letting it unfold. He put it between them, forcing her to look at it.

“CARLO ROSSI INDICTED FOR RACKETEERING,”
the headline screamed.

She lifted her eyes from the paper to look at Nico. “So?”

“So,” he said, “this is your father.”

She shook her head, relief lighting like a flame in the darkness inside her. Nico had the wrong man. The wrong daughter. “My father’s last name is Bondesan, like mine. Like my brother’s.”

He pushed the paper at her. “Look at the picture.”