Crimson Vows: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 16

My hand slams the phone back on the cradle after another useless conversation with a cop we own. “What’s the point of dirty badges if they can’t pull their weight when it matters?” I snarl into the empty room.

“I need to talk to Judge Bishop,” I bark into the phone after I dial another number. My sharp voice cuts through the excuses on the other end. The clock ticks ominously, mocking the chaos of my multitasking—dialing, talking, commanding. None of it seems to be getting me anywhere.

“I don’t give a shit who he has in his office. You tell him Marco King is on the phone for him, and it’s urgent,” I snap. The innocent woman on the other end of the line is clearly unnerved by my demeanor as she places me on hold to do as I have instructed.

My morning began with a call to tell me one of our captains, Bobby, was arrested last night during a raid. When it comes to a captain, every second counts. If one of our guys doesn’t respond to the call, some eager detective is always bound to pressure them, hoping to get them to flip on someone higher up in the organization. That’s the least of my concerns, though, as my faith in Bobby is rock solid. My only concern right now is proving that I can handle everything while Vincent is away. How can I possibly expect people to listen to what I have to say if they can’t trust me to handle situations as they arise?

Gia’s image dances behind my closed lids as I wait on the line. Dark hair and eyes that see right through me. I can almost feel her, the ghost touch of skin on skin. It’s been days since she was tangled up with us, lost in a haze of lust and twisted sheets. Days since I’ve even seen her face, her absence an ache in my chest that rivals the pounding headache from the endless calls.

A moment later, the muffled voice of the judge comes over the line. I explain the situation about our captain but am only greeted with excuses.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” I growl into the receiver. “If our guy isn’t out in the next hour, a certain recording of you will be the top story on the news tonight, got it?” I slam the phone down, not waiting for a response. I hate calling in a favor with the judge on something that should have been so simple, but Bobby has already been inside for far too long.

My fingers drum impatiently on the desk. It feels like everything erupted into chaos as soon as Vincent left for his trip, and I’ve been swimming against the tide ever since.

There is a knock on the office door. “What?” I shout, my annoyance flaring up at the intrusion.

“Marco, we need to talk about Gia,” Dante says, urgency lacing his tone as he bounds into my office.

“What’s wrong with Gia?” I ask, panic gripping my chest.

“Well, nothing besides the shit Vincent did to her,” Dante says, and Nico enters the room behind him.

“I told you not to fucking bother him,” Nico grunts.

My jaw clenches in response to the interruption. “I told you both I’m handling it.”

“Handling it?” Dante scoffs. “Doesn’t look like it from where we’re standing.”

“Nico, you better remind your boy who he’s talking to,” I warn. “Or I will!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Nico says, pulling on Dante’s massive frame and trying to shift him toward the door.

“No.” Dante pulls away. “That’s bullshit. Tell him what you said earlier.”

“Shut up,” Nico hisses in his friend’s direction.

“Don’t be such a coward,” Dante taunts him. “Maybe if he heard it from you, he would see what a good idea it was.”

“Shut the fuck up! I mean it.” The firm manner in which Nico silences Dante only serves to pique my curiosity.

“Fine, come on, out with it,” I huff. “What’s he talking about?”

Nico’s eyes flick to mine, a silent command for Dante to keep his mouth shut. But Dante looks back at me, defiance sparking beneath those blue irises.

“Marco, man.” Dante’s words tumble out, reckless and raw. “Nico thinks—hell, we all do—that Gia hit the nail on the head that night. You’re the one who should be leading us, not Vincent.”

My heart hammers, the words striking like a match to dry kindling. “What did you say?” I demand, every nerve ending on fire.

“Jesus Christ, Dante, will you shut the fuck up already?” Nico growls, eyeing me as he speaks.

“No, it’s bullshit. Vincent isn’t the kind of boss anyone’s lining up to follow,” he continues each syllable a bullet. “You’ve got just as much right, maybe more. You’re the one keeping this family together, and you were Edward’s nephew.”

Nico moves in a blur, hand outstretched to clamp over Dante’s mouth, but the damage is done. The words hang heavy, laden with truth and treason.

“Shut your damn—” Nico starts, eyes flashing a warning.

But the buzz of my phone slices through the standoff. Vincent’s name flashes across the screen like a bad omen. My blood runs cold, fury twisting in my gut at the sight of his name. It’s as if he sensed our conversation inside his office at that very moment. I hold up the phone for them to see the caller ID, finger pressed to my lips, demanding silence.

“Vincent,” I answer, voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

“Marco, I almost didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I figured you might be busy out there doing the fucking job I asked you to. Apparently not, though, so I’m glad I reached out. Now do you care to tell me what the hell you are doing about Bobby?” he spits out without preamble, venom laced with every word. “Our captain’s in a cell, and it seems like you’re not doing a goddamn thing about it.”

I grip the phone tighter, knuckles white, and my emotions churn like a whirlpool. “I’m on it, Vincent.”

“If you were on it, I wouldn’t be getting calls about it. Your fuckups reflect poorly on me. I don’t want to hear any more excuses.” Selfishness drips from his every syllable like poison. “Fucking get it done because if I have to call about this again, you won’t like what happens next.” Then, without warning, the call ends, leaving his final threat lingering in the air.

I stare at the silent phone, the urge to crush it in my fist nearly overwhelming. Nico and Dante watch me, statuesque in their silence. They know better than to speak now.

My pulse thuds in my ears before I turn to Nico, eyes narrowed to slits. “What did you say to Dante?” My voice is low, dangerous. “About me... about Vincent?”

Nico meets my gaze. He hesitates.

“Talk,” I command, the anger from Vincent’s disrespect seeping into my pores.