Opening his mouth on a raspy breath, he mumbled something. I smacked him hard across the cheek. The force snapped his head sideways, spittle mixed with blood, flying from his mouth.
“Give me a fucking name,” I growled.
“Please,” he slurred, sobbing like a pussy. “I don’t know.”
Gripping his neck, I leaned down, squeezing hard. “Last chance, Vincent.”
He wheezed, his coughs stalling in his throat and oozing out in uneven pants as he gasped for air. I released my grip and looked at Dario. “Did we find her?” He nodded. “Bring her in.” Something in my words had Vincent looking at me. Nostrils flared, he tried to widen his eyes. “We found your pretty pussy.”
“No. No. Please.” He pulled against the handcuffs binding him to the chair. “Please,” his scream whooshed out in a raspy cry. “Please, Lorenzo,” he begged. “Don’t do this.”
One of my men entered from the adjoining room with a petite woman. With her hands tied behind her back and her eyes blindfolded, he led her toward us. Her soft whimpers reached Vincent. He jerked his head around trying to locate her voice.
“She’s right here,” I said when she reached my side. “Say hello to your husband,cara.” I squeezed her arm lightly. She visibly shuddered at my touch. “Now!” I hissed harshly in her ear.
“Vince,” her feeble voice shook. “Tell them what they want to hear, baby.”
“I can’t,tesoro,” he choked on his blood, sobbing as he tried to speak, “I’m a dead man if I—”
“And what the fuck do you think I’m going to do to you and your lovely wife,” I roared, my voice steel.
“You wouldn’t!” I could hear the alarm in his voice, then desperation as he said, “If I give you one name, will—will you let her go.” His eyes bulged trying to seek out his wife.
For just a moment I smirked at the man’s audacity. Then hell broke loose inside me. Rage gripped my heart and refused to let go as memories of Bella’s last days plague my mind. Shoving his wife aside, I clutched Vincent’s neck again, the fist of my other hand connecting with his cheek. I smashed into his face until I lost all sense of what I was doing.
The man’s howls mixing with his wife’s screams brought me back to the moment. Breathing hard, my chest heaving, I leaned down, bringing my face within inches of his. “This is not a fucking negotiation, Vince,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “You’re a dead man either way, but I’ll let you choose the easiest way out.” I inched closer. “Because trust me when I say this. This pain that you’re feeling right now, it’s nothing compared to what your wife will go through if Remo has his way. He’ll keep you alive just to let you watch and hear what he’ll do to her.” Vincent’s breathing deepened, gasping for air, his sobs strangled. “He’ll torture her for days, months even. Feeding you her blood just to keep you alive. Decide, Vince. Remo or the D’Angelo’s putting a bullet through your skull, no questions asked. It’ll be quick, but my bullet will be kinder, it will spare you the agony of watching your precious wife beg to die.”
Giving him room to think, I straightened and stepped back. Dario handed me a towel to wipe the fucker’s blood off my hands. Glancing at the shuddering woman next to me, I felt no remorse as her lips trembled and she cowered from me. Feeling required a heart and I didn’t have one. I lost mine a long time ago. The day my father pronounced me a made man at the age of nine. While boys my age played Mortal Kombat, I was indulging in my first kill. Gutting a man in our kitchen and painting the white marble floors with his blood as I ripped him from side to side until his intestines spilled and the life faded from his eyes.
Now, I stared at the shaking asshole bound by his ankles and wrists to the last seat his ass would ever feel. Did he actually think I would agree to his request? “What will it be, Vincent?” Slowly, he shook his head then drew in a deep, ragged breath. He mumbled a name. I frowned. “How? What’s the connection,” I seethed, fury curling my fingers around his wife’s arms until she yelped. When I got my hands on the motherfuckers responsible, they were going to wish they’d taken down my entire fucking family.
Vincent shook his head. “I don’t know, I just heard Arabella’s name being mentioned during one of the drinking parties. Please, Lorenzo, let my wife go.”
“I’m a man of my word.”
As if he knew what was coming, his eyes slid shut, tears running down his cheeks. He mumbled the word ‘no’ over and over like a fucking prayer. I withdrew my gun from the waistband at the back of my pants and held the muzzle to his brow, letting him feel the cold steel against his skin, the last sensation he’d ever encounter before the dark pits of hell became his permanent ally.
