He swung his fist and sent a stunning punch straight to my nose. I heard the crack of my cartilage dislocating. Blood gushed out of my nostrils.
I did deserve it, though.
It took me a few seconds to swing back from the pain. And then I saw it behind Tiernan’s shoulder. A flash of flame-red hair. My heart skidded to a halt. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. The need to strangle the life out of her made every nerve ending in my body twitch.
I had no idea how she and my sister became best friends. Lila was a softhearted romantic with frilly dresses, a sweet nature, and an inexplicable love for the color pink. Tierney was a filthy siren, half dryad, half goddess, who dedicated her entire existence to defying and destroying.
“Nobody’s handing anyone anything. We’re taking separate cars to your father’s place and getting this shit sorted.” Tiernan grabbed his jacket from a hanger. Imma, his maid and my childhood nanny, emerged from the depths of the giant-ass house, placing her hand on Lila’s shoulder.
“Vieni con me, bambina mia.” The housekeeper tried steering my sister away from the door. Lila threw Imma’s touch off. She turned to her husband. From this angle, I could see the hearing aid hiding beneath the mass of her golden curls. She clutched her husband’s face. “If I hear they touched a hair on herhead, I swear to Christ, Tiernan, I’ll shoot you again, and this time I won’t miss.”
“I know.” He leaned down to kiss her mouth. He smoothed her hair away from her face. I’d have rolled my eyes if I didn’t know it’d hurt like a motherfucker with my new shiners. “I promise you,Gealach, she’ll walk out of this unscathed.”
“Promise her the moon next. It’ll be easier to achieve,” I scoffed.
I was going to kill this woman, and I was going to make a spectacle out of it.
“Bring her out,” Tiernan barked behind his shoulder. Two Irish soldiers escorted Tierney toward the door. They held her arms back, and my knee-jerk reaction was to pounce on both of them and break their necks. Then I remembered who she was and what she did to me.
“Missed me?” Tierney flashed me a dazzling smile.
I wiped the blood from my nose, giving her my usual don’t-give-a-fuck expression. If she expected verbal sparring, she was mistaken—that ship had sailed when she’d stabbed me in the back. I spat at her feet. In response, she thrashed, trying to break the confines of her captors’ arms and launch herself at me.
The soldiers tugged her back, dragging her into Tiernan’s Mercedes kicking and screaming.
Before they pushed her head inside, I managed to call behind her back, “Watch out for her hair. It’s still full of my cum.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tierney
“You’re goingto tuck tail, shut your mouth, and let me do the talking.”
Tiernan finally opened his mouth after a silent drive to the Ferrantes’ mansion. I thought he’d read me the riot act as soon as we got in the car, but he didn’t speak a word, which put me on edge.
My twin got out of the car, rounded it, and grabbed me by the back of the neck like I was a wild animal, guiding me across the winding pathway toward the grand double doors.
When I confessed to him over coffee that I spoke with Agent Rothwell, my brother went ballistic. I’d expected this reaction, but not that he’d hand me straight to the Ferrantes. A few minutes after my confession, Tiernan got a call from Don Vello himself, demanding my head on a platter.
Someone snitched, and I didn’t know who.
Considering Tiernan and I were alone in his backyard when we discussed it and that I didn’t tell another soul, it left me wondering if Tom Rothwell was a dirty fed getting a paycheck from Vello.
It didn’t make much sense, but who else could it be?
“What do I need the Camorra’s pardon for, anyway?” I bit out, trying to shrug Tiernan’s touch off my neck. He gripped me harder in response as he let himself into the mansion and led me up the curved stairway to Vello’s office.
“If you don’t get pardoned, you’ll spend the rest of your life running. Vellowillcatch you, even from prison.” Tiernan gave me a less-than-pleasant shove up the last stair. “And when he does, death would be a sweet, unattainable fantasy.”
A chill ran through me. Tiernan kicked the door to Vello’s office open, dragging me into the lion’s den by the arm.
I’d been here before, when Tiernan negotiated his marriage to Lila. The office, like the man, was vast and imposing. Heavy mahogany desk, upholstered velvet settee, and a gold-plated mirror gave the room a dramatic flair, all bracketed by pictures of the Ferrante family. A legacy of violence, cruelty, and tradition.
Behind a chessboard with gilded, hand-carved pieces sat Don Vello Ferrante.
To his right stood Luca and Enzo. To his left, Achilles, the now-errant son. He looked like he’d been beaten to near death.
Terror twined around my spine. I was deep in enemy territory with no one but my brother to count on.
