Chapter 10
The car ride back to the house is quiet– Too quiet for my liking after the grand beginning that our night had.
Sitting across from Echo in the back of the car, we stare angrily at each other. Her arms are crossed under her chest, accentuating her round breasts, but the deep frown on her face mars the beauty I’m used to. She hasn’t said a word since we left the restaurant, and the dark marks starting to become visible on her neck bother me more than they usually would.
She disobeyed me. I try to reason with myself in my mind, but I know that I was wrong.
I allowed my worry to turn into uncontrollable rage when I realized that she doesn’t value her life the same way that I did…. Or do. Because even though she could potentially be implanting the next Bianchi heir right now, she means more to me than just her womb.
That revelation I can’t escape anymore.
She challenges me at every turn but humors me at the same time. She pushes away my advances sometimes, forcing me to leave her alone so she can gather her thoughts, but at the same time, she welcomes me with open arms. Every night, we end up wrapped around one another, helping each other beat our nightmares, and in the morning, I leave as if I haven’t had the best sleep since I met her.
A part of me that I’ve never accepted wants to feel more for her, but I can’t. I know she’s hiding something, whether from me or the world in general, it doesn’t matter. Until I find out, I have no choice but to keep her at arm's length.
The car jolts over a dip in the road, and I grimace at the slight discomfort from the pain in my side. Once it subsides, I look back at her and see a glimmer of worry that flashes over her face. More tension builds between us from none of us saying anything.
Another jolt hits us, and I curse, angry that my driver is careless. I lift my hand to look at the blood that coats it, rolling my eyes. I know it’s not deep, but still, the puncture from the stronzo who cut me stings. I had knocked his gun out of his grasp, but he’d been quick to pull out a knife and swiped at me before I reacted. Though I’d evaded any more attacks from him and taken him down in a chokehold, he’d still managed that win.
What sucks the most is that I liked this shirt.
“Was it Aldo and Tommaso that had us attacked?”
I look up at Echo, surprised that she’s speaking to me. “We’ll find out. We got one of their men.”
“Again?” She asks.
I nod, then stop. How did she know how many men we had before? While I know she hasn’t asked me more about the men we got when we left her old apartment in a hurry, my men wouldn’t tell her anything. Plus, she’s only been around Vlad.
Would he tell her?
My mind races with questions within the few seconds that pass. Is there something more going on between them when I’m not around?
Is Vlad compromised?
I’m aware Ilya vouched for him due to his relationship with Anya, but loyalties can waver when women are involved.
I’m brought out of my thoughts when Echo edges towards me from her spot. I frown, watching her cautiously. “What are you doing?”
She raises her hands in surrender. “Let me see it.”
Her eyes seem harmless, and her actions are slow, like I’m a wounded animal.
I snort. “I’m fine.”
Her eyes roll automatically – Something I’ve come to hate immensely but tolerate because she’s so fucking cute when she does it. “Let me see it, Damiano. I know a lot about cuts.”
I measure the weight of her words, then decide to allow her to look. Removing my hand from my side, I tense as she pulls the shirt up and away from the cut. I don’t look down at the cut, ignoring the sting I feel. Instead, I look at her. For a long time, I can’t read her expression as she looks down at my injury, but when she lifts her gaze, I’m speechless. There’s no mistaking the dark look in her eyes.
The sight of my blood turns her on.
My cock juts against my pants at the idea of a woman that’s not squeamish about blood. “What’s the prognosis, doc?”
I tease her.
Her eyes cut to me, and she smirks. “Did you know when you’re cut, your torn blood vessels release a chemical, activating protein, which prompts your body to heal?”
I shrug. “So, what you’re saying is..”
The mood instantly lightens from my teasing, but I don’t allow it to make me feel relieved. I have business to take care of when we return to the house.
“You’ll live.”
She leans in, pressing her lips to my cut, and kisses it for a long time, then sits back up. Our eyes meet again, and the air around us thickens. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. My mom used to kiss my cuts.”
I figured. “Come here.”
Her eyes betray the vulnerability that she just showed me. Rising from her knees in front of me, Echo plants her hands on each side of my body and leans towards me. Her lips are still slightly tinged red from my blood, persuading me to give in to every desire I want, whether or not it gets me killed.
As long as I taste myself on her.
I gently take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, edging her closer. The familiar scent of copper wafts into my nostrils, and instead of the disgust I expect to feel from it being my blood, I embrace it. It smells enticing on her lips, like I’ll walk into a new dimension and become overwhelmed with sensations I’ve never been allowed to consider.
Instead of attacking her lips like I want to, partially because of my discomfort and two because I want to savor this unique moment between us, I touch my cheek to hers and inhale her scent. She breathes out, and I can tell her eyes are closed from how her body relaxes into me, swaying with the car's movement. My nose gently runs down the side of her face, caressing her chin, then rubbing over her lips. Her soft skin that smells of things I can’t place makes me wish I was the substance on her. She moans, and I pull back, looking down at her.
She’s nothing like the calculated, raging woman in the restaurant not long ago. Right now, with her guard slightly down and her yearning emanating off her, she’s something else. She’s someone else.
Someone I don’t know.
As if she senses my hesitation, she moves up, and her lips touch mine. Immediately, need courses through me. I return the kiss with more passion and fervor than I thought I could have at the moment. Her lush, curvy body presses upwards into mine while her right hand moves up to my chest. I wince in surprise when she pinches my nipple through the shirt. It doesn’t hurt but sends me spiraling until I grasp reality.
A woman has never touched me as freely as Echo, let alone had the nerve to pinch or twist my nipples.
Did I like it?
I don’t allow myself to delve into my feelings. I wrap my left arm around her waist and pull her up more, crushing our lips together in a fierce kiss that fills the back of the car with her throaty moans. Moans I relish are for me.
My tongue thrusts into her mouth without warning, and she responds by lashing out hers to touch mine hungrily. Her eager energy spurs me further, and without thinking, I hoist her up on my lap.
Mind-numbing, searing pain shoots through me, blinding me momentarily and stopping everything. I groan, throwing back my head against the seat's headrest. I breathe deeply through my mouth with my eyes closed.
“Oh, shit.”
Echo moves back but doesn’t get entirely off my lap. “Are you okay?”
She pulls my shirt back up to look and sighs. “It’s bleeding again.”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “It’s okay, Bellissima.”
Ignoring my pain, I inch in, running my tongue upward on her lips to distract her. “I’ve had worse.”
She nods, barely acknowledging me. Grabbing the end of the shirt that is stained with blood and ripped from my earlier attack, she tears a piece off, applying pressure.
Quiet, I watch her, amused that not long ago, we were ready to fight or kill each other, and now she’s tending to my superficial wound. “Can I see them?”
Puzzled by the question, I look at Echo. “Them?”
I don’t correct her and say that only one of the four men survived.
“The men you got tonight. I want to see if they were at my house when my family was killed.”
She doesn’t look up from what she’s doing, and I know she’s avoiding my gaze.
“Why?”
I want to laugh, but all I can get out is a half-assed scoff. “You have a list of the men who you are going to kill?”
The car starts to slow down, and I know we are approaching the gate. Echo vibrates with anger. When she attempts to get off my lap, I stop her. I look her in the eyes, waiting for her to answer me.
“Yes.”
She finally responds a moment later.
From outside, I can hear the gate opening. “Tell me, Bellissima, how will you kill them? Tell me your list?”
I urge her.
“It won’t matter if you don’t believe that I will. And if you’re not going to let me see them and get the pleasure of witnessing you kill them, then at least ask if they were involved to give me solace in knowing they’re finally dead.”
The car comes to a complete stop in front of the house. Echo moves to get off me, and I stop her again. We stare at each other for a second. I see she needs closure in this tiny fraction of time. She needs to know that the men responsible for her family’s deaths have been dealt with. “I will ask them for you, and if they say that they were there, I will give you the gun to pull the trigger. But you don’t need to be there to see what I will do to them.”
Echo’s head tilts downward, and what looks like a dark glimmer of hunger and satisfaction spreads on her face while the corners of her lips beg her to smile, but she doesn’t. “Thank you.”
It takes no time for us to reach the front door. From the back seat, I hesitate. Any other time, if I didn’t have Echo with me, we would have entered the back entrance to take the man we took from the restaurant.
My eyes cut to the front of the limo, meeting Gio’s questioning gaze. He and I don’t say anything but hold a conversation based on that look. He’s uncertain if I should agree with Echo’s request, but a large part of me wants to see how she will react if these men were involved in her family’s murders.
I have to see how she will react.
The car continues to move without exchanging words. Next to me, Echo looks at me bewildered but doesn’t speak, either. I’m sure she believes that if she says anything, I will change my mind, though I won’t. I’ve been testing her this entire night, so I may as well continue.
We go to the garage, waiting until the door is closed before we get out. In the area's safety, the car door opens for us, and Echo gets out first, reaching out to me. For a second, I hesitate, uncertain if I want to get her help and if it will make me look weak. I decide to take her hand after a slight movement sends an ache up my side.
Out of the car, I urge her to start walking, but she stays still. I realize she’s frozen in her spot, and I turn around. A stern glare is on her face as she watches while the lone guy is dragged out of the trunk. Bloodied and unconscious, Gio drops him to the floor with a sigh.
Echo turns back to me. “There’s just one?”
“Si.”
Gio straightens his back, wiping transferred blood from his hand onto his pants, which are already stained. “Want me to call Benicio?”
He asks, looking at me.
I look down at my torn shirt and shake my head, noting that my cut has stopped bleeding. “No, it’s not deep.”
My second nods in simple understanding, then calls to Marco Jr., who helps him grab the guys’ feet. As if this is an everyday occurrence, they carry him to the private section of the house where we’ll interrogate him. Before Echo came into my life, that space hadn’t been used in over five years. Since then, I’ve found an invigorating sense that makes me happy to know I’ll use it more often.
I turn to face her fully. Her look of anger and disappointment is all I need to see to know that the guy we have isn’t someone she recognizes but somehow hates already.
“Hey.”
I touch her shoulder. “You don’t have to stay. You saw him. You know he wasn’t there. There’s nothing else for you to do, yeah?”
Staring at but not seeing me, she sighs and squares her jaw. “He came after me. He needs to spend his last moments knowing that he fucked up.”
Fuck.
Could I grow harder at a time worse than this?
Instead of responding, I smile at her, then turn. Too familiar with the action, I snatch my shirt open, the buttons ripping off and scattering across the garage. The open wound didn’t start bleeding from that one move, so I assume it’s safe. Without much care, I reach into a floor-to-ceiling cabinet, grabbing wound adhesive glue and the necessary supplies. I clean the small cut, then pat the area dry before I apply the wound adhesive glue.
“Should I even be concerned that you have that ready to go?”
Echo asks, a hint of amusement in her tone.
Though I chuckle at her question, I don’t look at her, trying to focus on the task. Accustomed to this, I unscrew the top and apply some to my wound. “Gotta be prepared for everything,”
I say through gritted teeth.
The glue itself doesn’t sting, but pressing my skin together hurts more than a motherfucker every time. It takes a few seconds of concentrated breathing before I can stand up straight. I dab on some numbing cream, then cover it with a bandage.
“Ready?”
I turn and face Echo.
By now, I’m sure Gio has taken care of our guest and seen that he’s comfortable. Typically, they wait for me to do anything, just making sure to restrain anyone downstairs, but I don’t even feel like dealing with an interrogation.
The adrenaline is dying, and I’m exhausted from it all. I want to go to bed, take fifty painkillers, and sleep for twenty-four hours. That’s too much to ask for, though.
Behind me, Echo nods. “Yes.”
I hate this part.
It takes a second longer than usual, but I eventually feel disconnected enough to proceed. I allow my emotions to be locked away, bringing my fury forth. As my father trained me, I exhale one deep breath and turn into the soldier he groomed me to be.
Without a word to Echo, I start towards the back, going through a different floor-to-ceiling cabinet built to hide the entry where almost four generations of Bianchis have interrogated people. This is the first time a spouse or woman of the house has been here, but it’s owed to Echo.
She deserves to know. She wants to see.
We make it to the room, where Marco Jr. opens the door before we get to it. Walking in, I ignore the shocked faces of Gio and Marco Jr. I look at Vlad, who shows no care that we’re here but stands straight once he sees Echo.
All our eyes fall to the guy in the chair who’s awake. Bewildered to find himself naked and strapped to a chair, his eyes shift between all of us. Rapidly, his chest rises and falls in nervous anticipation when he looks around the rest of the room.
“Hey.”
I attempt to get his attention but see that he’s too frantic. “Look at me.”
I snap my fingers. “Look at me.”
He finally does. Brown eyes that are wide with fear look at me. “Where am I?”
They always ask that.
As if he senses my next move or how exhausted I am, Gio plants a chair in front of the guy, and I sit. My forearms rest on my knees, and I lean to get a better look at the guy.
He’s young.
Though he has a beard, it looks like he’s no older than twenty-five. I want to feel bad that this kid is about to meet his demise, then remember what I was doing at twenty-five. I also remember what my father had me doing at thirteen when I’d returned from Italy.
‘People die every day, Damiano. It’s better if it’s them rather than you.’
I push down my hesitation.
This man would have killed me or Echo just as quickly as he needed to without any hesitation.
“What were you doing at my restaurant?”
I don’t raise my voice, and the room is eerily quiet. Everybody seems to be waiting for the answer we all know will be a lie.
Nobody being interrogated answers correctly at first.
Persuasion is the best part of it.
“Your restaurant?”
The guy’s voice raises at an octave that sounds shrill. “Holy shit, man, I didn’t know anything.”
My head angles to look at him. “Nobody just knows nothing.”
I reach behind me, and something is placed in my hand. When I notice how heavy it is, I look down then back at Gio.
A fucking nail gun?
Our silent, unspoken language passes between us without fail. Gio shrugs, unbothered, and steps back.
I sigh and turn back to the young man, whose eyes are wide. I imagine that when he woke up this morning, following someone’s cockamamie plan, he didn’t expect that his friends would be dead and he’d be here.
I’m more than positive that he hadn’t thought he would be staring death in the face.
“The way that this works is simple. I’m going to ask you simple questions.”
I present the nail gun to him as if it’s a toy or trophy. “If I feel like you’re lying to me, I’m going to ask my wife which part of your body she wants me to nail to the chair each time.”
His eyes fly to Echo nervously, then back to me. From the fast way his chest rises and falls, I see that he’s trying to mentally prepare himself for what will come but is failing. “Okay.”
He nods his head. “Okay, I got nothin’ to lie about, man.”
I doubt that.
“Good,”
I lay the nail gun across my lap, “good. What’s your name?”
The young man’s eyes shift to Echo, then back to me. “J- Jay. Jaime, but they call me Jay.”
Truth.
“Good. Where’d you grow up, Jay?”
I ask him.
Confused, Jay looks away, then back at me. “Wuthers area.”
Truth.
“Any siblings?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, it was just me and my moms. She passed three years ago.”
Truth.
That sucks.
“Any children?”
At my question, Jay looks down. He’s quiet for too long. “Yeah, I got one.”
He looks down again, nervous.
Lie.
Without saying anything, I glance back at Echo. Though I was expecting to see her unnerved or partially scared, the amusement and enjoyment on her face are evident.
She looks down at Jay, and a smirk brushes across her lips. “Right foot.”
For a second, I believe that she’s being sympathetic, but the glint in her eyes makes it clear that she’s intent on building up his pain to see how much he can take.
I don’t hesitate, don’t give myself time to think twice. With deliberate slowness, I pick up the nail gun and lean forward. I tune out Jay’s yells and protests as I press the tool against his foot. Tied to the chair, he still tries to wiggle his foot out of my reach but can’t. It’s not until I squeeze the trigger of the nail gun and feel the release that I hear Jay’s screams of pain.
Nobody says a word, but we all can see where the nail is embedded in Jay’s foot, puncturing the bone and impaling him into the concrete. He could release his foot with more wriggling, but that would take more energy than necessary.
Completely red in the face, Jay’s screams continue when I place the gun back on my lap. “Jay.”
I wait until I have his attention. His face is redder than it was before. I watch as he tries to calm himself. Breathing through his teeth until fast and harsh, saliva falls down his chin. “I have a feeling that was her going easy on you.”
He curses under his breath. The veins in his neck bulge with every deep breath he takes. “I already told you. I don’t fucking know nothing!”
Lie.
My eyes move to Echo. She pushes her hands into her pants pockets. The pure expression of disdain moves me. “Left knee.”
I love that she’s being specific. Even if he were to leave here—though he’s not going to—walking for the rest of his life would prove difficult for Jay.
Again, I lift the nail gun. “No, wait, wait, what do you wanna know? Just ask m–”
Jay yells as the second nail pierces him. This one goes through the bone, only stopping when it’s embedded partially in the wooden chair and Jay’s flesh.
“Those were the easy questions, Jay.”
I make eye contact. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
From my mouth, I hear my father’s words. I recall his harsh punishments. His words were supposed to teach me a lesson. I remember the crack of a whip splitting the air before it crashed against my skin. Kneeling in ice outside over a bed of rocks in the winter when I didn’t get up in time for school. My knees had been swollen, blue, and full of pebbles that had dug into my skin.
Most of all, I remember how he said I was making it harder on myself every time.
“You brought this on yourself. You made this harder than it needed to be.”
A second later, I clear my throat. “Why did you and your friends attack us?”
“I don’t know!”
Jay cries, then immediately realizes his mistake. “Because! B-B- Bec- Because Ace said we had to.”
He stammers.
Ace? The name sounds familiar, but I’m unsure where I’ve heard it. “Why did Ace tell you all to?”
He stammers.
Red-rimmed, tear filled eyes meet mine. Jay stares at me for too long, and I know he’s torn between giving up information and keeping himself alive. “Joey said he was looking for his brother.”
It doesn’t make sense. I look back at Gio, who confirms that he’s looking into everything as we interrogate Jay. “Don’t stop now, Jay.”
The young man sighs in a cry-like fashion. Saliva that he can’t wipe away drips down his chin, pooling on his black shirt that is soaked with blood from earlier.
“Man, it wasn’t even supposed to be like this. Joey said it was gonna be a quick in and out. He thought he could go into the restaurant, talk to you, and find out where Ace’s brother is.”
Could they have been any more stupid? A group of hot-headed men with guns had stormed into the business of a future Don and figured that they would make demands, then walk out. It was no wonder things hadn’t gone sideways quicker.
“Who’s Ace’s brother?”
“Or-Orlando.”
He answers.
The name doesn’t ring any bells or evoke memories of a man named Orlando. However, I could have encountered them recently or in the past few months. I’m not always the most amicable person and am known to rub people the wrong way.
“He disappears all the time, but when he talked to Ace last, he told him he was doing some job.”
“What job?”
I push for an answer as the puzzle pieces start to come together.
Managing his pain poorly, Jay throws his head back against the chair and cries out in frustration and agony. “I don’t know! Fuck!”
He yells at nobody in particular.
“His balls.”
Echo doesn’t waiver behind me. Her tone carries more infliction and anger than it did earlier.
“Wait!”
Jay coughs, sputtering unintelligible words that meld together behind his pleading. “Wait, listen!”
He begs me. “He was watching some bitch’s apartment. Him and Antonio. They were supposed to come back weeks ago and never did.”
Fuck me.
Aware of who exactly Orlando is now, I school my features to be void of any emotions. It takes a moment for his words to register. Lifting the nail gun, I don’t waste my time looking to make sure I hit a testicle or not when I pull the trigger. Jay’s screams vibrate throughout the room, and he thrashes back and forth against his binds that don’t show any sign of loosening up.
“What the fuck, man?”
He screams. “Why you’d do that? I was telling the fucking truth!”
“Oh, I know.”
I angle my head towards Echo. “They were watching her apartment. Orlando’s mistake was calling her a bitch.”
I don’t need to know how Ace knew where to find us. I don’t doubt that he reached out to Tommaso, who directed him to us. More than likely, they had someone watching the house, then followed us to the restaurant. They’d thought they were men going to war and had gotten slain like boys in the first battle.
So much death, and none of us know what the fuck we’re fighting for.
Tired, I stand, placing the nail gun on the chair. Below me, Jay stops his crying temporarily to look up at me. “What? Are you gonna let me go?”
“No.”
I look at Gio. “Send them all back to Ace.”
With a curt nod, Gio steps forward. I ignore Jay’s cries and curses, reaching out to Echo, and she takes my hand. I expect her to seem shaken or frightened, but her resolve seems perfect.
If anything, she seems happy.
Content.
Before leaving the room, Echo stops at the door and calls to Gio. Partially garbed up for whatever heinous act he’s about to do, my second looks at her.
Her eyes fall back on Jay, who is silently crying, most likely resigned to his fate. A look of hate crosses her face. “Send only their tattoos.”