Out of Time (Fall of the Morelli Crime Family #3)

22. Chapter 22

twenty-two

Bianca

I hadn’t spent much time at my uncle’s house. There was never any reason to. I stayed out of the family business and only ever really saw him at family dinners, and those were always at my father’s house.

I didn’t know the address, but I knew where it was. I’d sat in the car a couple times when my father and I were out together and he realized he need to pause our outing to do some business. I’d never been inside, but I’d been around enough times to know what neighborhood it was in and the street name. I ordered an uber to drop me off at the nearest cross-streets, knowing I could find the right house on foot.

I paused at the big iron gate. I really didn’t want to buzz my way in, but I was still playing a part; this time of the obedient prodigal niece/daughter, so I needed to play by the rules. I pressed the buzzer and stood patiently in front of the camera, waiting for someone to recognize me and let me in.

“Bianca Rose.” The amused lilt to Angelo’s voice put me on edge. “Did you need something else from me tonight?”

Bile rose up my esophagus, but I choked it back, the sting lingering. I cleared my throat before answering him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Uncle. I would really like to try talking to you and my father. I heard you say that you were coming here. May I please come inside?”

I fought the urge to fidget, to adjust the wire that ran up the inside of my dress. I’d tried my best to replace it exactly as it was earlier after I’d stolen the pieces back from Mark’s pocket, but it was harder with my ribs bandaged up.

Eventually I heard the click of the gate being released and watched it swing open in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said politely, bowing my head in respect before straightening back up to walk inside the large manor house.

It was weird approaching the front doors. I’d never been this close to the house before, but the closer I walked the more massive it seemed. Why did Uncle Angelo need such an enormous house for just him?

And his wife, I remembered. I always forgot about her since she was so rarely seen or mentioned. But even with Ella Louise, the house was insanely large. It looked like a regular Richie-rich house from the road, similar to the one my parents inhabited, but the closer I got, the more it seemed to loom over me. Add in the fifteen-foot-high security gate or the camera that pointed straight into my face as I made it to the large double doors, and I was a nervous wreck.

I knocked purposefully, waited impatiently, and held my breath when the front door creaked open.

It was just Ella Louise. It wasn’t Angelo.

I released my breath, chiding myself for being so anxious. I knew who this man was and what he was capable of before I decided to come. He had no qualms with hurting me if I made another misstep, but I couldn’t let the fear control me. I needed to hold it together.

I knew he enjoyed hurting people far too much, that he wanted to go home to “keep his blood pumping” and offered to let my father watch. I kept my expression blank as I registered what he meant. I saw poor Ella Louise’s bruised face, watched the careful way she held the door as if that was all that supported her, rather than her own muscles and bones.

“In the den, Bianca Rose,” Angelo called, voice calm and relaxed like he didn’t beat two women within an inch of their lives today.

“This way,” Ella Louise said, gesturing me into the house. Her hair shifted when she turned to close the door behind me and I could see wicked bruises forming on her neck. Dear god.

I walked a couple steps behind her and saw the stiff way she held herself, like she was trying not to show any pain. But I also saw the welts across the back of her legs through the rip in her skirt. I fought against the bile trying to creep up my throat again. I willingly walked into this house because I had a job to do.

I would do it, darn it.

I wished I was dressed more demurely. I could have hidden pepper spray or a taser in any other outfit, but not this formfitting purple dress. It was beautiful, classy, something I’d love to have Mark rip off me after a nice date night, but it was lacking in pockets.

I held my head up high as I entered the den, seeing Angelo lounging in an armchair, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who expected his niece to enter at any moment. At least his fly was up, even if his belt was unbuckled. I didn’t see my father anywhere.

“How are you this evening, Bianca Rose? How’s your pain level? Can I get you anything?”

He was seriously asking me that? He was the reason for most of my aches and bruises. But that led right into my cover story, so I went along with it.

“That’s what I wanted to discuss. I’m doing my best to respect the chain of authority and I didn’t want to just call.”

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the sofa opposite him.

“Thank you,” I said, settling down as gracefully as I could, resting my hands on my lap.

“Not you,” he snapped at Ella Louise when she went to sit next to me. “You can stand right there and not move a fucking inch.” She nodded, eyes staring down at the soft rug under her feet. I swallowed hard, pretending that none of it bothered me. “What did you need from me tonight?”

“Permission?” It came out as a question and I tried again. “I know I was supposed to go home tonight and meet up with the man you and my father picked out for me, but I’m in a lot of pain. Bruised ribs, stitches across my face—”

“I noticed. Wherever did you injure yourself like that?” He stared hard, waiting for a very specific answer.

“I…I’m pretty clumsy. I tripped over a loose rug and fell headfirst into the mantlepiece in my father’s office earlier tonight. Landed on the damn metal fireplace tools when I hit the ground and bruised a few ribs, too.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You should really be a lot more careful, Bianca Rose. You could have been seriously injured. Who did you get to stitch you up?”

“I went into the ER. I didn’t know what other options I might have had. I told them exactly how the injuries occurred,” I continued in a lie. “The rug, mantle, fireplace tools. They fixed me up pretty quickly.”

He nodded. “I’ll make sure you have our doctor’s cell phone number in the future should you find yourself needing assistance again.”

In case I was beat to shit again?

“I’d appreciate that. But I’m really not looking or feeling my best tonight. I was wondering if you could call Theo and ask if another night would be better. Tomorrow even, just not tonight.”

He held a finger up to me and reached over for the landline phone on the side table next to him. He dialed a number and waited a beat for the person on the other end to pick up the phone.

“She asked that we put in a call to Theo to reschedule her date for tonight. Yes. I thought so. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and only then did he return his gaze to me.

Any trace of politeness was gone. His eyes were on fire, melting me from the inside out. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say.

Angelo broke the silence.

“Your father confirmed it. Neither of us told you a name, Theo or otherwise, for your betrothed.” My pulse raced, but I couldn’t break my gaze from his murderous eyes. “How did you hear that name?”

“I think you or my father are mistaken, Uncle. One of you must have said it at some point.” My words came out half strangled. They weren’t believable. “Or maybe Daddy mentioned him at some other point and I just assumed the gentleman you were talking about tonight was Theo? I’m not quite sure.”

He glared hard. I finally managed to break his gaze, but the terrified look on Ella Louise’s face wasn’t much better.

“You are a liar, Bianca Rose. No, don’t try to deny it,” he said, stopping my feeble attempts at a defense. Lucas was right; I wasn’t prepared for this. I shouldn’t have come. “You’re lying to my face in my own house. Do you know what happens to liars in my house?”

Ella’s breath stuttered. She certainly knew. Her panicked eyes met mine and I knew I needed to get us both out of there. It didn’t matter if I got more confessions on tape if I didn’t make it out of here alive.

I stood up quickly, backing away toward the door. Angelo still sat in his chair, though he sat up straighter, reaching down to pull the loosened belt from the loops on his slacks. I could guess what made the welts on Ella Louise’s body.

I grabbed her hand, had every intention of pulling her with me as I ran out the door to safety. We could make it out. We could do it.

I wrapped my fingers around hers, but immediately let go when she winced. I glanced down and only then saw that several of her fingers were twisted in awkward angles. Her fingers were broken. This man broke his own wife’s fingers. I couldn’t hold in the glare anymore, but Angelo just stared at me.

He didn’t care. He wasn’t threatened.

I put an arm around her waist, hoping I had the strength to haul her out if she collapsed. Angelo wouldn’t stay passive forever. When I made my move, he would get up and try to stop me. I had one chance.

I tightened my grip around my aunt-by-marriage, though she had to be my age or younger. I took a deep breath, then lunged for the door, twisting the handle with my free hand as I tried to pull her out of the room with me.

But everything went wrong.

Ella Louise had her feet planted and would not move them. I pulled her again, and she shoved me off of her. “I am NOT moving from this spot,” she whispered defiantly. Defiant towards the wrong person. What the hell was wrong with her?

I didn’t have the strength or time to argue with her. The dose of pain medicine I’d received at the hospital was wearing off fast as my anxiety skyrocketed. I released my hold and turned toward the open doorway as Angelo finally stood up, but I couldn’t leave. My father was blocking the door.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Bianca Rose,” he said, shaking his head as if I’d gotten a C on a test. “I think I know exactly where you heard that name.”

In the distraction of seeing my father, I didn’t notice Angelo coming up behind me until the belt wrapped around my neck. I gasped, hands going to my throat, but the belt was there to control me, not kill me.

Yet. Angelo pulled it tight, forcing me back against his chest, standing on my tiptoes so I could breathe.

“Oh? Do tell, brother.”

“San Francisco Police Inspector Mark Rosenberg.” My eyes darted frantically around me, trying to think of an escape plan. They knew.

How?

“She was spending time with a man until recently, you know that. Probably the good inspector. Most likely why she destroyed that beautiful watch. The GPS in her car put her near his residence a couple times, along with credit card transactions dating back almost two months. And, well, we know enough about his little girlfriend’s condition to put two and two together and make an assumption. An accurate one I’d wager, with the way she looks so guilty.”

I wasn’t feeling guilty. I was feeling despair. Mark was as good as dead if I didn’t warn him first. Hopefully he’d listen in on these recordings and know to protect himself. If they killed me now, it would be on tape. He and Lucas could get them. Mark would be safe, even if I didn’t make it out of Morelli Manor alive.

My hands stopped clawing at my neck and reached instead up to Angelo’s face. I tried to scratch at his eyes, but he just stood there and took it, pulling the belt tighter so I struggled to breathe. My body jerked violently as I tried to scratch him, hit him, kick him, anything, until the pressure released, the belt loose around my neck as I fell to my hands and knees at my father’s feet.

He took a step back, as if avoiding a sick person in public. Like my traitorous tendencies were contagious.

But it wasn’t over. Angelo stepped hard on my back to force me flat on the ground and then used the toe of his boot to roll me over onto my back. He sat down on my thighs, the weight of his solid body stopping me from kicking out at him. Then, quick as lightning, his hand shot out and ripped the tie of my wrap dress open, exposing everything—exposing the wire.

He ripped it away, following the cord down to the receiver box tucked into my panties. I felt disgusted as he reached down and took it, the tears finally falling and cries leaving my throat. Then he grabbed hold of the belt again, pulling the tail through the buckle so it cinched tight around my throat. I gasped for breath as he wrapped the loose end around his wrist with one hand, his other fist pressing against my chest so I couldn’t sit up and loosen the pull against my throat.

I struggled uselessly, wishing I was stronger, smarter, that I knew how to defend myself. But I didn’t, and I was going to die because of it.

“Angelo, please. This is my daughter. I can’t look at her like this, it’s not right.” A new tear leaked out of my eye. My father did care. He didn’t want me to die.

To my surprise, Angelo listened. He dropped both hands, the belt around my neck going slack again. With the same gentle hands that had helped me off my father’s floor earlier in the evening, he did it again, making sure I was steady on my feet before pulling my dress closed around me. My hands shook as I secured the knot again. Was I going to live through this?

“Ella Louise, come here,” Angelo said, voice gentle but firm. She appeared by his side instantly, and he handed her the hidden microphone and all its components. “Take this and dispose of it, please.”

“How?” she whispered, avoiding my gaze.

“Use your fucking brain!” he roared at her, the volume even more shocking in the suddenness of his outburst. “Flush it, obviously. Fucking moron. Then you go to your room and stay there until I come get you.”

He didn’t look to see if she obeyed his words. He didn’t need to. The way she stood stock still in the den until he told her she was allowed to move again proved how well his poor little waif of a wife obeyed him. I watched her skirt around my father and saw her open the door under the large staircase. I caught sight of a small powder room before the door closed behind her.

I didn’t hear the toilet flush or see her come out of the bathroom again before Angelo pulled the belt tight, forcing my face up to meet his.

“This will teach you to go against your family, Bianca Rose. I thought you understood me earlier. You belong to The Family and you will submit if you want to breathe another breath.” Then he jerked the belt again, dragging me toward the grand staircase.

Whatever was waiting for us upstairs couldn’t be a good thing.

“No,” I choked out, my voice raspy with the stress of pushing through the leather around my throat. “Don’t take me up there. Please. I’m sorry. Let’s stay down here.”

Angelo pulled harder and I lost my footing, stumbling to my knees and gasping as the belt tightened. Angelo didn’t stop moving, didn’t pause for me to right myself, so I stumbled back upright, using a small table we passed to pull myself back up.

There wouldn’t be any fighting, not unless I wanted to strangle myself when I inevitably lost my footing on the stairs. I hurried to keep up with the pace of Angelo’s longer legs, my father trailing quietly behind.

We were halfway up the steps when the glass window in the foyer exploded inward.