The Accardi Twins: A Mafia Romance Duet

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Gia

“ G ood girl.” Liam pats me on the head like I’m a dog when it’s over. Pain obliterates me on the inside as I hold on to a chair and climb awkwardly to my feet. I have never been more humiliated or objectified in my life.

I vow here and now that I’m going to kill him.

No one else is doing it. It’s going to be me. Every single humiliation I’ve endured will become his to bear. I will make this fucker pay.

I purposely don’t look at the men standing behind Liam. If I see lust in their eyes or their hands sliding underneath their pants, I’m liable to say fuck the mission and kill as many of them as I can before I’m put down.

“Ready the vehicles,” Liam instructs. “And leave us.”

I glare at him when the men are out of sight. “Fuck you. We’re done.”

He grips my wrist, twisting it at an angle that hurts. “We’re done when I say we’re done, and we’re only getting started, sexy.”

“You’re hurting me.” I drill him with a contemptuous look.

“I’ll hurt you worse if you ever disrespect me again.”

I want to scream and pummel my fists in his face, but I force myself to remain calm. “I’ll bury you if you disrespect me ever again.”

A chuckle bounces off the walls. “If you were anyone else, Emma, I’d kill you for that threat. But I know it’s empty.” In a flash, he has me pinned to the wall by my throat. “I’ve played things your way, and I’m all out of patience.” His fingers tighten around my neck, and I’m trying not to panic. “Now we’re doing things my way.” He loosens his grip, and I suck greedy lungsful of air in through my mouth. “It’s quite simple, really. You do what I tell you, without argument, and I will treat you like a queen.”

I bite the inside of my cheek hard to resist the urge to flinch when he sweeps his fingers across my face before moving them lower. “You’re mine, Emma. My perfect little doll.” His hand slides under the top of my dress and beneath my bra, and it’s a miracle I don’t puke. He fondles my bare breast without permission, and I want to gut the motherfucker until he stops breathing. “I want to fuck these so bad, but it’ll have to wait.” I breathe a sigh of relief when he removes his hands completely from my body. “Go home. I’ve got business to attend to. Be at my place tomorrow at eight. You will cook for me, and we’ll have a nice night. Put all this behind us.”

I suck in a gasp when he presses a gun to my head. “Don’t even think about crossing me, babe. I love you, but I won’t hesitate to riddle you with bullets if you disobey me or try to run.” He pushes the muzzle in tighter. “Swear you’ll be a good girl and behave.”

I nod, unwilling to push anything with this psycho because he’s legit crazy.

“Say the words,” he grits out over a snarl.

“I will be a good girl and behave.”

He arches a brow. “And?”

“I’ll be at your place at eight tomorrow, and I’ll cook you dinner.”

Without warning, he slams his lips down on mine, forcing his revolting tongue into my mouth.

“I love tasting myself on you.” He grabs my ass, hauling me up against him. “Bring a bag with you. You’re sleeping in my bed tomorrow night.”

With those parting words, he stalks off, stomping noisily up the stairs. When the door slams upstairs, I clutch the wall and bend over as a sob rips through the eerie air, traveling directly from the depths of my soul. My breathing gushes out in exaggerated spurts, and nausea swims up my throat. I’m hyperventilating and barely holding it together when I remember my earrings.

Horror washes over me along with a fresh wave of humiliation at the realization some of our men heard what just went down. Joshua couldn’t have been listening as he’s at his party, but I’ve no doubt they back up the audio, and the thought he might hear that sends me spiraling.

Until I remember I’m still in the devil’s lair and I need to get the fuck out of Dodge. I pull myself together and quickly inspect the crates. They only contain bottles of beer and whiskey, which is disappointing but not unsurprising. Finding a side door at this level, I flee through it, avoiding the walk of shame upstairs.

I emerge in a back alley and turn right, immediately jerking back when I spot the cavalcade of blacked-out SUVs. I hide behind an alcove as car doors open and shut. Risking a peek to the left, I spot the open trunk and make a split-second decision, crawling into the space and pulling a coarse blanket over the length of me. My heart slams against my rib cage as I lie still, breathing quietly through my nose and praying this wasn’t a mistake.

About a minute later, footsteps approach, and I hold my breath, hoping I don’t pee my pants. When the trunk slams shut a few seconds later, I offer a prayer of thanks and settle down for the journey.

It seems like we’re on the road for ages. Whoever the driver is, he needs to go back to driving school. I’m betting I’ll have bruises all over my back from being thrown about as he speeds over bumps and potholes and swings dangerously around corners.

Eventually we slow down, and I prick my ears, listening to the myriad of doors opening and closing. Footsteps crunch over gravel, and I wait until there are no sounds, until it’s completely quiet, before I make a move. I press down on the lever on the back of the trunk and push with my shoulder until the seat moves forward.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I climb into the back seat, keeping down low. I drop to the floor and take a minute to compose myself, remembering others are listening and they know where I am thanks to the tracker in my arm. Breathing deeply, I shove the seat back into place and briefly lift my head.

We’re at a construction site with row upon row of scaffolding on the front of the high-rise. I count nine cars in total. Five appear to belong to Liam and his crew, meaning they are meeting others here.

Very carefully, I open the back door and crawl out of the car, shutting it quietly behind me. Crouching down, I move between the cars, keeping low in case any men are watching the parking lot. Rounding the front of a Lincoln town car, I dart into the open doorway of the building undetected.

Muffled voices filter into the room through large thick sheets of plastic covering the window spaces on the other side. I can’t risk being heard, so I sit on the dusty floor and remove my boots. The salty air and icy breeze confirm we’re close to the ocean. Wishing I had taken my warm coat tonight instead of my flimsy jacket, I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill as I tiptoe carefully across the space, sidestepping bits of rubble and trash littered on the floor.

When I reach the far wall, I kneel behind one of the window coverings and extract my cell, setting it to record because I don’t know if the audio will pick up everything.

“It’s not our fault Rizzo took one for the team,” Liam says in that haughty voice I’ve come to know and loathe.

“He was our don,” a man with a slight southern twang says.

Liam snorts. “Don’t play dumb. Rizzo was a don in name only. You ran the show. Like me, everyone knows you’re the true leader. They did you a favor. I wouldn’t be grumbling if I were in your shoes.”

“We lost other good men that night, and we lost men to the water the night of the hijacking.” He pronounces water like wooder, and I immediately recognize the Jersey accent.

Excitement trickles through my veins at the prospect of gleaning some decent intel.

“You knew what you were signing up to, Calabro. Casualties are normal during war.”

“The Barone knows that better than anyone! We have painstakingly rebuilt our famiglia after we were all but wiped out. The boss promised retribution, but there won’t be anyone to avenge our name if we all die before D-day!” Anger underscores his tone as I’m wracking my brain trying to remember where I’ve heard the name Barone before.

“Calm the fuck down,” Liam snaps. The clicking of multiple weapons ensues, and I hold my breath to see how this plays out. “Acting like a hysterical schoolgirl who just got her period is not helping your cause.”

“Those backstabbing bastardi must pay.”

“And they will. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“We’ve waited years,” he hisses before adding, “Lower your weapons. The Irish aren’t our enemy.”

“Stand down,” Liam tells his men. “You can wait another few months. You need to learn patience.”

I clamp a hand over my mouth to smother a snort. That asshole could benefit from listening to his own advice.

“Don’t pull that shit again,” Liam warns. “I’m showing you a courtesy by giving you a free pass. If the boss knew you went after the boy alone, you’d already be swimming with the sharks.”

What boy? I ponder.

“I’m grateful for your mercy, McDermott.”

“You’re all out of free passes. Remember that.”

“Remember who brought you in on this.”

“Remember who we both report to,” Liam retorts. A few tense beats ring out before he adds, “Get the fuck out of here. We’ll be in touch when we get instructions from the boss.”

Gravel is noisy underfoot as the men separate and leave. I hold myself still, afraid to even breathe. I don’t budge for ages after I hear the last car pull away. When I’m certain the coast is clear, I walk across the space and put my boots back on.

Walking out through the open doorway, I inspect my surroundings, looking for any sign of a bus or taxi stop, but there’s none. Industrial buildings and warehouses surround me. On my left, in the distance, I spot the boardwalk, confirming I’m in Atlantic City. It’s going to cost me a small fortune to Uber it home from here, but I’ve got no choice. I’m not calling Joshua to come get me.

I’m opening the app on my cell when a black Land Rover swings around the corner and pulls into the lot in front of me. Headlights pin me in place as I flick the button on my cell to withdraw the small dagger embedded inside. I’m preparing to fight when the driver’s door swings open and a familiar face comes into view.

A look of thunder is etched upon Joshua’s face as he stalks toward me. If glowering was a weapon, I’d be dead ten times over by now.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?”