“Because I didn’t think it was your fight. I thought I could handle it. Now all I want to do is get her out of there before it’s too late and they harm her.” Joey’s phone rang in his pocket. Frankie snagged it—again, without my permission.
Frankie wolf-whistled as he stared at the caller ID. “Damn, that’s her? No wonder you’re worried. I’d have her on her knees, being grateful to me every day.” I snatched the phone as the final ring ended.
“Don’t talk about her like that, you sick fuck.” When I clicked on the contact, this image of Ana smiling nearly stole my breath. It wasn’t a provocative picture by any means. She looked like a damn angel, dressed in a plain white summer dress with a sweet smile on her face. Nothing about the image screamed filthy, but Frankie made it that way, and I had to hold it together. As a man of great control, I didn’t outwardly react when I looked up at Frankie and wanted to shoot him myself. Joey was tied up and still was ready to pound his face in. Calmly, I called her back.
My phone buzzed back.She’s still inside the apartment, but there were some pieces of shit we had to chase away from the door.
They show up again, and you know what to do.
Understood.
I’ll be in touch.
“Uncle Joey,” she cried out with relief. “Please tell me you’re coming,” she sobbed. Her cries did something to me thatI couldn’t quite process. She needed someone to protect her, but Joey had been demoted. I planned to take that role and on a whole new level. As soon as the idea popped into my head yesterday, my mood shifted and I reacted.
“Amore, someone will get you in ten minutes.” They were just down the street, but I was giving her a chance to run and see what happened. Also, I dared any of her enemies to pop up again while my guys lay in wait. “Wait in your apartment until you receive my call.”
“Who is this?” she answered so softly, voice laced with confusion and fear.
“Your fiancé.” The gasps were heard around the room. My eyes lifted not to Joey, who should be concerned that I just traded his niece for the debts, but to Frankie, who ogled my future wife with such disgusting disrespect. The color drained from Frankie’s face when I gave him a look he’d only seen from me before I executed someone.
“No, you can’t be,” her panicked words were the only thing that saved Frankie for the moment.
“I am and you will do as I say. Wait and don’t answer until your escort arrives. It will be soon.” Perhaps I should have been a little gentler with her, but I didn’t have time for that.
Afterward, I tucked Joey’s phone into my pocket and then stepped up to Frankie and then stabbed him in the stomach. “If you live, then your penance is paid. Make note of it. Any word of my wife’s beauty will be treated with respect. She will be treated with respect at all times. Understood?”
“Yes, Don,” he groaned.
“Yes, Boss,” the others repeated.
I untied Joey and lifted him to his feet. “Take him to get fixed up,” I told Paul. Then I looked at Joey and said, “You will drive me to the airport. I have to pick up my bride.”
He stood silent as I wiped the bloody knife on his suit jacket. “I don’t have time for much prep.” I should have made the flight this morning, but I had preparations to make here. I had no idea that she was in trouble. My only belief was that she was poor, and he was helping with bills, not paying off fucking pieces of shits.
On the way, I made several calls while Joey drove. “I need information on who runs Spaulding, Texas’ Washington St area.”
“That’s fucking pretty specific,” Mercado scoffingly laughed.
“Well, that’s my specific problem at the moment. Do you want to make the Sosa district my problem too?” I questioned.
“No, no. Of course not. I’ll get that to you within the hour.”
“That’s good. Nice talking to you, Eddie.” I ended the call and enjoyed the subtle torment I was putting my driver through.
Chapter Two
Ana
“Uncle Joey,” I called out. “Please tell me you’re coming,” I begged through tears that seemed to be endless over the past half hour.
“Amore, someone will get you in ten minutes. Wait in your apartment until you receive my call,” the deep, accented voice didn’t sound like my uncle’s mixed Texas and Italian drawl. Amore? Although Italian, he didn’t sound like my father and Uncle. I knew nothing about that side of the family because discussion of it was forbidden. There were rumors that my uncle had ties to the Mafia.
“Who is this?” I choked out nervously.
“Your fiancé.” I heard noise at the other end, but my brain wasn’t processing anything other than what he uttered. I repeated it in my head, but it didn’t make any sense.
“No, you can’t be,” I argued, shaking my head as if that would help my case. My body sat on the hot, tacky linoleum floor, made worse by the summer heat, with my back pressed against the wall between the stove and the sink. I held a knife in my hand, praying my dad’s collectors didn’t come back again.
