Tangled in Vows (Tangled & Torn #2)

40. Holden

Chapter 40

Holden

Day 1498 without you: I tried not to think about you today to see if it would work. It didn’t.

“ W e’re here.”

Archer’s voice drags me out of my thoughts. Thankfully, it took us less than an hour to get to the building where we’re meeting Zeno because I hate every second away from Olivia. I know Jax and the other guys are keeping her as safe as they can, and she also just texted me a cute photo of herself and Stormy outside, but being away from her while some psycho has her on his radar just doesn’t sit well with me.

After sending her a quick message back, I pocket my phone and grab the door handle. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner we’re done, the better.”

We parked in the back alley as instructed, and before we’re even out of the car, the side door to the building opens. Even if I didn’t know who’s waiting for us, the black hair and ice-blue eyes would have been a dead giveaway. Zeno isn’t just one large motherfucker, but the steel in his gaze is enough to keep some cowards at bay, without him ever having to utter a single word.

Even when we were younger, I saw my fair share of opponents throw fights prior to ever setting foot in the ring with this guy. Although, his brutal reputation might have been a reason for that.

“Good to see you guys.” Zeno reaches out a hand, and we take turns shaking it.

“Ditto.” I give him a nod. “I appreciate you helping us.”

“Well, let’s see where this meeting will get us.”

Although Archer traced Marco to the people who shot at us, Zeno found the ex-Mafia man for us so we could question him. We follow our old friend past several office doors, down a set of stairs, and to the end of the corridor.

He pushes the door open, and we march into the unfinished basement.

Several heads turn our way.

I’m not sure who’s who, but considering there’s a group of two and a group of five, I assume the duo is Marco plus one of his guys, while the others are Zeno’s men.

The guy with slicked-back, dark oily hair narrows his eyes at us before spitting out, “Who are they, Zeno? I thought we’d keep this on the down-low. I’m cooperating, aren’t I? You said you wanted to talk, and I’m here. And now you bring in outsiders?”

Zeno shrugs as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. “They have some questions for you.”

So that weasel is Marco.

My chest is heaving with barely restrained fury, and I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from murdering the man right here on the spot.

“I didn’t agree to that,” Marco sneers at us. “Don’t fuck with me.”

Zeno walks straight to the man and squares off with him. “Or what, stronzo ?”

Having Zeno call him an asshole and get in his face seems to change Marco’s attitude. He immediately raises his hands and takes a significant step back. “Nothing, nothing. It’s all good.”

Zeno turns to us and tilts his head in a “come here, he’s all yours” motion.

Archer and I comply. I stay quiet, knowing better than to show my cards to someone I don’t know.

Zeno puts his hand on Marco’s shoulder and squeezes. “My friends here have some questions, and you’ll answer them. Capiche?”

Marco grimaces and mutters something in Italian but nods.

Archer doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Antonio and Ricardo did an unsuccessful hit-and-run for you. Who hired you for that job?”

This information immediately evokes a reaction in Marco. I thought he’d be upset because it was unsuccessful, but he looks anything but. The excited gleam in his eyes is impossible to miss.

You can’t murder him yet. You can’t murder him yet.

Marco steeples his hands in front of his stomach. “Ah yes, I might have heard something about that. The singer, right? I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. Man for hire-client privilege.”

Without warning, Zeno swings his fist and connects with his face. The strike lands with a satisfying crack, calming my anger a small amount.

“Bastardo,” Marco sputters and wipes at his bloody lip. “What was that for?”

Zeno bares his teeth, his jaw twitching like a live wire. “Answer the fucking question while you still can.”

Marco swallows at the barely concealed threat.

After just a few minutes in Marco’s presence, it doesn’t take much to figure out why they threw him out of the Mafia. He clearly isn’t very good at following rules.

Marco takes the handkerchief his lackey is handing him and dabs at his mouth.

What a joke of a man.

He purses his lips in disgust. “It was only supposed to be a scare, in case you were wondering. No kill. Not on this job.”

Archer fidgets next to me, telling me he also heard Marco’s specific wording.

No kill. Not on this job.

I also call bullshit on it only being a scare since they emptied several magazines into our vehicles.

I take a step forward, then another, enjoying the fear that slithers into Marco’s gaze, and stop beside Zeno. “Are you telling me there is a hit order out on her?”

Marco shakes his head. “No, I only had that one job for Olivia.”

Just as before, Marco doesn't see the punch coming.

Contrary to Zeno, I don’t stop after just one. The resistance of flesh and bone sends jolts through my arm and up to my shoulder, and I relish every one of them.

A muffled grunt escapes Marco. His head snaps to the side, and blood splatters in big droplets against the floor.

His body follows, and utter chaos breaks out around me. But I trust Archer and Zeno to have my back or alert me otherwise. My main focus remains on Marco. I crouch and sit on his chest, enjoying how his breathing turns shallow.

After delivering a few more punches, and hearing some satisfying crunching noises, I lean close to his face. “In case it wasn’t clear, I’m done with the games. I want you to tell me everything you know about these jobs on Olivia and the person who hired you.”

He doesn’t immediately answer me, so I wrap my bloody hand around his throat and squeeze. “Did I not make myself clear enough?”

He sputters under the pressure and manages to nod, so I ease up on my grip and wait, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“I don’t know who’s behind it, okay? My whole business is built on anonymity and not asking any questions.”

This guy is such an asshole. I want to knock the lights out of him for good.

He wriggles under me, probably trying to see if he can somehow get me off him. He’d be stupid enough to try. When he realizes I’m not going anywhere, he sighs.

“People fill out a form online with all the details and pay there too. That’s it. If there’s any more contact, it’s handled via email.”

I pause. “Let me get this straight. You have an online form that people can fill out to hire you for a job?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question than anything, but this fucker actually nods proudly and says, “Yeah. Cool, right? I’m going with the times. Everything’s online now.”

Wow. He’s even more dense than I thought.

Zeno lets out a growling noise, and I’m sure he’s just as baffled by this guy’s stupidity as I am.

Archer glares at the smiling man still beneath me. “I need the entire exchange and whatever info you have on the guy who hired you.”

Marco points a meaty finger at me. “Get him off me, and I’ll give you what you need.”

Reluctantly, I climb off him and watch him scramble to stand. He waves over one of his guys, and after Archer tells him where to send the info, the other guy whips out his phone and types away. Murder inquiries on the phone. Priceless.

Archer gets his phone out and nods to me once he receives the data.

I turn to Zeno, who walks away from the crowd with us so we can’t be overheard.

Zeno studies me. “I assume this was about your wife?”

“Yeah.”

He rubs a hand over his face. “And you’re sure you got everything from him? We’re going to have to take care of him.”

Archer raises a brow. “Make sure you get his entire system taken care of and all of his data. I can look through it to help if you need me to. Who knows what shit this guy has been up to.”

Zeno exhales harshly. “Nothing good. I’ll get on that and will have our guys contact you. Matteo regrets ever giving Marco a chance. We should have taken care of him last time.”

Matteo is Zeno’s best friend and the head of the New York Italian Mafia. I’ve never met him personally, but I’ve heard through the grapevine he’s brutal but fair. I guess that sometimes bites you in the ass, like in this situation.

Zeno turns toward his men. “Keep him here. I’ll walk them out.”

They all tip their head at him, and as one, we turn toward the door. We haven’t made it a step before Marco’s shrill voice reaches us.

“I want to negotiate.”

Zeno groans, but we all stop to wait for what Marco has to say.

The man in question looks at us expectantly. “Well?”

“Tell us.” Zeno’s reply is clipped, his patience thin to nonexistent.

Marco’s wrangles with his hands. “I want to have some reassurance first from you.”

Zeno moves toward Marco, who immediately throws up his hands. What a pussy.

“Fine, fine. The job for Olivia wasn’t the first or only job that person sent. There were smaller ones before, as well as another pending inquiry.”

The hackles rise on my neck, a million questions rising to the front of my mind.

But Zeno beats me to it. “What’s the open one for?”

“A hit.”

“On who?” Zeno’s voice is so low I almost flinch.

Marco can’t stop his reaction, his gaze nervously flicking between us as he says, “Holden Donahue.”

Zeno pulls a gun from the back of his waistband and aims it straight at Marco’s head. “I swear to God if I have to drag out one more word.”

“The hit is for next weekend. That’s all I know. It was supposed to be done in whichever way possible, as long as it’s done and recorded for proof.”

Archer is by my side, and Zeno narrows his eyes at me. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I wish I knew.” I blow out a breath, my brain reeling from the news.

Marco got a hit order on me. He’s supposed to kill me in one week. One. Week. My brain circles around that tidbit and the possibility that my life could be done in mere days. The next day is never guaranteed, but having someone tell you exactly when you should cease to exist hits differently.

At least the hit isn’t on Olivia.

The mere thought of not being with her anymore causes utter devastation to course through me so violently my knees almost buckle. A wave of cold sweat rolls down my spine at the idea of having that imagined life with her ripped away from me.

Pressure builds in my chest, followed by a wave of dizziness, I realize it’s because I stopped breathing. The dizziness subsides, giving room to an all-body numbness until a firm hand clutches my shoulder.

Archer is getting in my face, patting my cheek. “Nothing will happen to you, you hear me? I got everything we need for now, and Zeno will get us the rest later. Let’s go home.”

Home. To Olivia. To my wife.

He says something to Zeno and pushes me toward the door. The second we step into the hallway, several gunshots ring from inside the room.

Zeno catches my gaze. “Everyone who’s been working with him will be dealt with. This time, we won’t keep a leaf unturned.”

I focus on my breathing, and by the time we slip into the alley, my brain has mostly restarted. Anger has taken over, pushing aside the overwhelming shock and sorrow that wanted to swallow me whole.

I’m so sick of this shit. Of feeling like someone else is pulling the strings and having more control of my life than I do. It doesn’t matter which corner we turn; the puzzle only gets more complicated.

Nothing ever seems to be within our grasp, and I’m done with this game. I’m not a damn puppet, and this isn’t over until I say so.

No one touches my wife or me. Whoever tries anyway has to die.