He steps in close to me, like he can’t keep himself away, and takes both my hands.
“Dr. Rossi says the babies are healthy. And I don’t care if it’s fucked up, Giovanna. I’m not losing you. We’re not losingthis.” He pulls my hands up to his chest, then thinks better of it and jerks me into his arms, squeezing me roughly. “Look at me.”
I do, lifting my gaze to meet his. He searches my face, his gaze dropping to my mouth. Then he kisses me, soft, intense, dragging his tongue over my bottom lip until I let him in, let him really kiss me.
I kiss him back, tentative at first, then giving him everything, like I always do, like I can’tnotdo, until we are drowning in each other.
When he pulls back, he rubs his thumb over my lower lip. “Nothing is coming between us.”
His touch is reassuring, his arms around me comforting, his words exactly what I need to hear.
But his eyes are worried.
55
Tommy
Before we leave the bedroom, Giovanna lets go of my hand. Defiantly, with one eye on me like she’s worried I might stop her, she goes to the nightstand and pulls out the gun I gave her. I nod shortly, and she slides it into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. I intend to make sure she won’t need it, but the last 24 hours have been insane. Better safe than sorry.
When we make our way back to the living room, Lorenzo is sitting at the kitchen counter, beer in hand, scowling into the mid-distance.
Giovanna stops short, disgust on her face, then narrows her eyes. There’s movement in her hoodie pocket, and I’m about to stop her from shooting Lorenzo in the head when there’s a knock at the door.
Before I can answer, the door flies open, and Berto is hurled into the living room. He lands on the floor in a snarling heap, his hands tied behind his back. He’s been beaten, his face swollenand bruised. Cuts on his arms and chest are bleeding through his shirt. His jeans are torn and dirty.
Behind him is Antonio, stony-faced and purposeful, as he strides in.
Fucking God damn Tony the motherfucking Hack.
“Is this your so-called package?” I snipe, tracking Berto in my peripheral vision.
Antonio glances at Giovanna, and his hard expression softens into guilt. Fuckingguilt. What’s he feeling guilty for?
Before I can think it through, I’m on him, grabbing his collar and slamming him to the floor. He lands with a thud, throwing a punch that clips my jaw, but I barely feel it. I’m just beating the shit out of him, slamming my fists into him until my knuckles split, until I hear him yelling my name.
“TOMMY!”
Still gripping his shirt, I pause, breathing hard. “What.”
Berto is cackling. He moved away from us while we fought, but he’s half-sprawled against the wall, bleeding and grinning.
“My pocket,” Antonio wheezes. “Go into my pocket. There’s something you need to see.”
“That’s all you have to say for yourself, you fucking rapist piece of shit?”
Antonio’s jaw hardens, and his eyes go black. “Vin and I grabbed the nurse. She confirmed that there was just one rapist. Check my pocket, and you’ll see that it wasn’t me.”
Digging my hand into his jacket pocket, I pull out a cell phone.
Antonio shoves me off of him, then stands. “It’s unlocked and cued up.” In one motion, he turns and kicks his brother in the head. “You, shut the fuck up.”
I swipe up, opening the phone, and instantly freeze, glancing at Giovanna. I know exactly what this is. The thumbnail of thevideo is just like the ones that were sent to me when Giovanna was gone.
Antonio has his eyes on Gi. “It’s one you haven’t seen before.”
Sliding my finger along the progress bar, I get to a screen that’s unfamiliar: Berto’s face next to a passed out Giovanna. He licks her and laughs. The blood drains out of my face as I dart a glare at Berto, oblivious on the floor.
Giovanna is watching me, and I catch her eye, shaking my head. She doesn’t heed my warning. Marching over to me, she snatches the phone out of my hand. She cranks the volume until the sounds of Berto’s grunting fill the room. He’s laughing as he fucks her, calling her names.
