The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3) (2 page)

She opened her door, silently praying David was sleeping. Instead she found him sitting at the kitchen bar of their one bedroom, drinking a glass of wine. Blond hair disheveled, his broad shoulders still tense, but his Irish complexion was ruddy enough to tell her he’d drunk just enough to be an asshole, but not quite enough to make him easy to dismiss.

Fuck.

“How was the show?”

His voice was casual, which had her relaxing a bit as she closed the door and locked it. “It was fine. Tomorrow’s a dark day,” she reminded him as she set her umbrella by the door. “I need the break. Desperately.”

There was a note of pleading in her voice that she hated. She didn’t care that David had managed to lose a sizable inheritance that should’ve kept them wealthy until they died. Now, despite the two of them making more than enough to afford this apartment, they had somehow missed paying rent on the first. The one good decision she’d made in this marriage was to keep their finances separate, because they had known from the get-go their marriage was more of a business arrangement than a real partnership. She paid her half, but he wasn’t coming up with his, and she was generally ambivalent about it. At this point David’s money problems were the least of her issues with this marriage.

She had a place to stay if they got evicted. Her best friend had more money than God. Carina’s two-bedroom apartment was an obnoxious wasted space in Midtown, and the two of them had been happy roommates once before.

And that was what she reminded David of before she’d left for work this afternoon. She was done covering his ass. If he couldn’t come up with his half, then they could just part ways.

“Want a drink?” He gestured to the wine bottle.

“Bath. Then bed,” she said as she tossed the mail on the bar next to David, seeing several envelopes addressed to him that she knew for a fact had late notices.

She left them there and didn’t say anything else as she walked to the bathroom. The two of them hadn’t talked since their blowout. Let him fall into a drunken stupor with expensive wine he couldn’t afford. She pulled off her jacket and set it on the sink, telling herself she’d hang it up later. She was just turning to run the bath when David came into the bathroom.

He had to be kidding.

If he thought sex was on the menu tonight, he was destined for disappointment. It wasn’t like he kept up his end of the bargain in this joke of a marriage.

She ignored him standing there, drink in hand, as she bent down to plug up the tub.

“Who’s Valentino Moretti?”

Brianna physically jolted. She couldn’t help it. That name never stopped affecting her. Like the memory, it was something that was etched bone-deep. It also stunned her, because she had never mentioned Tino to David. Not once. That memory was just for her—something to fantasize about at night when she closed her eyes. He wasn’t supposed to know, and hearing Tino’s name on David’s lips seemed to tarnish it somehow.

“He’s, um—” She turned on the water, keeping her face hidden as she found her composure. “He’s Carina’s brother. Half brother. He lives somewhere else now. Like Kentucky or something.”

“Oh yeah?” There was a sharp edge of disbelief in David’s voice. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” Brianna turned around and arched an eyebrow at him. “Is there a reason why you’re curious?”

“There sure is. I think you’re fucking him. I never needed your love. Never wanted it, but I told you when we got married that I wasn’t putting up with you screwing around.”

“I work six days a week, I have promotional obligations most dark days, and you think I have time for an affair?” She laughed incredulously, before she pointed to the bathroom door. “Get out.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” He set his wine down and leaned against the counter, his casual elegance looking more false than usual. “Tell me about him. Your Valentino.”

She glared at David, sensing the threat throbbing off him, and she was tempted to tell him everything about Tino Moretti. She had one gleeful moment in her mind where she admitted all of Tino’s dark, dangerous secrets just to take some of the arrogance out of her husband, who was always annoyingly superior because he was ten years her senior. Instead she remained stoic, reminding herself of the life Tino was making for himself now, far away from all the bullshit in New York that had been his burden for too long.

Knocking that arrogant smile off David’s smug face wasn’t worth it.

Not even close.

“We dated a long time ago,” she confessed, because it was obvious someone had said something to him. “I was young. He was young. It didn’t last. Now he lives in Kentucky. Look it up if you don’t believe me. He’s a professional MMA fighter. He’s easy enough to find.”

“An MMA fighter? Are you sure?” he questioned in that irritating way of his, as if he assumed she owed him an explanation. He’d read somewhere that men who demanded answers got respect, and he clung to that idea. “Hard to believe Carina’s brother’s not doing something a bit more…colorful. Especially with a last name like Moretti.”

“Why don’t you ask her about it?” Brianna suggested smartly. Carina always made David very nervous. “Since you’re so interested in the Morettis’ business, go straight to the source.”

Suddenly, David threw the glass of wine, making it shatter against the wall as Brianna screamed and ducked for cover on instinct. She had her head down, so she didn’t see him jump at her.

She ended up crushed against the wall like the glass.

David’s big, meaty hand was wrapped around her throat. For one long moment, when she realized he was actually cutting off her air supply, she considered letting him.

She was just sick of her life.

Of pretending that everything was okay.

And hiding from the world that she was married to a man with a rampant gambling problem who was drowning in debt.

Most of all, she was so very tired of pretending that her heart hadn’t been shattered a long time ago. As much as she loved her job, it wasn’t enough anymore. It didn’t erase the pain like it was supposed to.

Dying for loving Tino didn’t feel like such a bad thing.

She wilted rather than fight, though she was clutching at David’s hand on instinct, as if a part of her couldn’t help but cling to life even if it sucked.

“Want to know how I knew you’re fucking him again?”

Brianna blinked at him as she dug her fingernails deeper into his hand.

“’Cause Aldo Moretti told me to kill you in retribution for whatever the hell your Valentino did to piss his grandfather off.”

Brianna fought harder to pull his hand free as she stared at David’s flushed, triumphant face, trying to figure out why she thought he was Broccoli. She could see now he was nothing but undiluted poison, and he had been poison to her for four years, slowly sucking out her will to live, and she had let him.

She started dying the moment life ripped her and Tino apart.

“Just like Aldo told me to marry you to keep him in check. I don’t know what your Valentino did to make his grandfather so fucking nervous, but Aldo seems to think the only way to control him is you. I guess once you die, it’s over for both of you, and I get the life insurance as a replacement for the high-class ass the mafia handed me.”

Black spots formed in her vision, but some of the words filtered into her hazed mind. She wasn’t sure if it was a pure need for survival, or a knowing that if she died, it was going to somehow drag Tino down with her.

She fell completely limp and held her breath even though her lungs were on fire. She didn’t work out every day and perform every night without a powerful set of lungs.

David let out a shocked laugh of disbelief, as though he couldn’t believe it was that easy. His grip loosened when she landed on her ass on the bathroom tile in a pile of broken glass and wine.

She gave him about half a second to gloat in his misogynist, arrogant belief that his silly, twentysomething trophy wife would go down that effortlessly.

Then she punched him in the balls with all the strength CrossFit training five days a week had earned her. She scrambled to her feet when he doubled over, but couldn’t get out the bathroom door before he grabbed her leg. Her cheek smacked against the sink when she fell, making her vision haze out from the pain as she coughed and struggled to regain her breath after nearly being choked to death.

She kicked back in retaliation, catching him in the nose with her sneaker. David howled in response, because if there was one thing Brianna knew how to do, it was kick.

Then she jumped to her feet once more and ran out of the bathroom.

Regardless of how tired she was before, it felt as if she had just sucked down five macchiatos. She was out of the apartment and down the hallway before she heard David coming after her, but he drank too much expensive wine, ate too much rich food, and had gotten a little too thick as of late to keep up with her.

She ran past the elevator and went for the emergency stairs.

Brianna threw the door open and started taking the stairs like there was a fire on the seventeenth floor. After five flights she grabbed the railings on either side and lifted her feet. She slid all the way down like she had when she was eighteen. In a weird way, she could almost hear Tino and Carina behind her, laughing and encouraging her, because the two of them were always just as fit and prone to finding trouble in the most inconspicuous of places.

When she hit the landing, it was like she could feel the memory at her heels, motivating her, reminding her she still had something to fight for. David never had a chance to catch her. She literally glided down the last thirteen floors and then burst out into the lobby, making the doorman jump in surprise.

“Are you okay?” Greg asked, looking at her with wide eyes.

She didn’t answer, because she saw the two men standing outside, trying to look casual, but she could spot mafia from a mile away. She’d grown up around them. She’d been in love with one since she was a teenager. Tino probably wrote the rule book they were following, because she could tell these guys weren’t enforcers. They didn’t have the same chilling confidence of the mafia’s grim reapers, but they were certainly muscle sent to get a job done, and a fool with a gun could shoot her as easily as a trained killer could.

Brianna just stood there, staring at the hit men dressed in jeans and leather jackets. That was a bad sign. Usually mafia preferred suits, unless they were doing the dirty work. She knew they’d spotted her, and worse, she recognized one of them. She couldn’t place his name, but she knew she’d seen him the last time she’d visited Carina’s grandfather with her.

As crazy as it was, everything David said was true. Aldo Moretti had been part of this horrible scheme. They’d been pawns all along.

Tino’s voice from the past echoed in her consciousness.

“Anyone ever pulls a gun on you, you run, Bri. Run as fast as you can. It’s hard to hit a moving target. Trust me on this.”

Brianna glanced behind her as one of the men opened the door to her building. She knew there was no other way out, so she made the crazy decision to charge right at them. Never let it be said she didn’t have the balls of a born-and-bred New Yorker.

As she ran to the door and certain demise, she screamed.

Really loudly.

With the lungs that she’d been training since she was a kid.

The one thing mafia avoided above all else was accidentally drawing attention to themselves. Most of them had been taught since birth to be secretive. To stay in the shadows. To never make themselves a target and possibly hurt the Borgata, which was an unforgivable sin in mafia families.

Nothing like a screeching redhead on the curb in Midtown to have both men backing up like she had the plague. She didn’t look back. She just kept running toward Broadway.

It started raining harder.

After a few blocks, despite the adrenaline pumping through her system, she was forced to notice she’d forgotten her jacket. Her jeans were heavy, but her sneakers were serving her well. Still she was shivering, either from fear or freezing her ass in the chilly midnight air.

Likely a combination of both.

She looked back and didn’t see anyone following her. Not knowing how long she had until a large black vehicle pulled up in very mafia-like fashion, she ducked into the next building.

The doorman looked affronted as Brianna stood there dripping on his floor.

“I just need to make a phone call.” She pushed her soaked hair away from her face and looked at him pleadingly. “Gimme five minutes.”

“Are you in trouble?” he asked in concern.

She shook her head but looked past the door, watching the traffic.

Then she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Fortunately, she was a very practical New York girl, who didn’t like purses. She had a wallet in her phone case, and if she needed money, she had some.

She hesitated as she stared at the last text from Carina, knowing it was Carina’s family trying to have her killed. She didn’t like that she was hesitating, but she was.

Then, before she could change her mind, she texted.

AIUTO!

She stared at her phone, wondering if Carina was still doing her set. Her latest gig was at a place way over in Brooklyn. One of those very trendy, very indie clubs where most people ordered Red Bull instead of wine at midnight and enjoyed listening to
real
artists perform.

If Carina ever got a record deal, she’d lose most of her fan base.

Not that she’d ever get a record deal.

She was too hip for that.

Luckily, Carina’s inheritance afforded her that luxury.

The rest of them, Brianna included, were slaves to the paycheck.

The art was the bonus.

Carina texted her back in less than a minute.

Where are you?

Brianna asked the doorman the address and texted it to Carina with the thought that if her best friend was in on this whole thing, she might as well just give herself up anyway.

She’d be done.

So she stood there, staring out the rain-streaked windows, watching the cars driving by.