3. Dante
Chapter 3
Dante
It’s the middle of the night, and I’ve been back in Australia for less than a day, but I can’t sleep. It could be jet lag, but I know it’s more likely to be my need to eliminate every threat to my wife’s life.
I don’t want our marriage to be a secret any longer, but I know there are still people out there who will want her dead.
Eduardo Gallo for one.
Perhaps more, once Lia Bailey’s real identity becomes common knowledge.
As I work out my next move, the only thing that will help me plan is pounding a punch bag.
After stepping into the gym, the automatic lights flicker on just as the scent of lemon air freshener greets my senses, and the spacious room stretches out before me.
It's filled with exercise equipment and mirrored walls that cast my reflection. I look tired, a stark reminder of the battle that burns within me and the days I’ve spent ridding the world of anyone who will harm my wife and our babies.
The rhythmic thud of my footsteps echoes through the space as I make my way to the center. The cold, hard metal of the weights beckoning me, promising an outlet for my pent-up emotions, and with a sharp exhale, I grab a barbell and load it with heavy plates.
Gripping the bar as frustration surges through my veins. Or is it anger? Ready to be unleashed as it has since someone shot my wife.
With a primal grunt, I lift the steel. The burn in my muscles mirrors the searing rage that rushes through my veins.
I grunt with each repetition.
My breathing gets heavier, the sound filling the room, drowning out the fury that plagues my mind.
Fury for those trying to harm my wife and babies.
I grab my cell and call my brother.
“Hey. Where are you?” Rafe asks the moment he answers.
“Home. How’s Lia?”
“She’s fine. Resting in the apartment. She’s asked about you a few times.”
I smile. “Has she?”
I release a heavy breath, my resolve strengthening. Her darkness consumes her. Mine consumes me. But it’s time to confront her, to face the truth head-on and offer her an alternative because she wants me, despite her protestations.
She also knows I can’t let her go, regardless of how much she is planning a life without me in.
And I can’t give her up.
“Yeah. We all need to sit down and talk about how we keep her and the babies safe. When is your castle due to be complete?”
I chuckle. It’s big but hardly a castle. “A couple of weeks. Cade just needs to sign off the security now the furniture and internals are finished.” I don’t trust anyone to not try to bug my home while it's being finished.
“I’ll let Cade know. But I need to go because we’ve had a few problems at the club tonight. Come to the apartment tomorrow and we can sit down and talk.” Rafe disconnects.
I step away from the weights and walk to the punch bag. Throw my arm back and smile when the sound of my knuckles connects with leather, reverberating through the room. Each strike causes the bag to swing in response to my powerful blows.
Sweat pours down my forehead. My muscles strain with each punch of the bag. But the sting in my fists is still not as bad as knowing Lia didn't want me to know about the babies.
“Lia...” Her name slips off my tongue, intertwining with a mixture of anger and longing. The image of her face stirs a storm of conflicting emotions within me.
As beads of sweat drip down my face, I can’t help but question why she hid the pregnancy from me, but I know she isn’t the only one at fault.
I slam my fist into the punch bag again. Then my foot. As I punch and kick, the ache in my muscles reminds me of the battle I’ve had with her ever since the day outside the Brisbane Courts.
And now she is carrying my babies and wants a divorce.
I don’t think so, Lia.
And now I have one more thing to do, because her safety is bigger than getting one over on my father.
Another quick punch and then a kick of my foot, and I’m getting closer to feeling like myself.
Now it’s time to eliminate every threat.
I grab my phone and make a call.
"Romeo, I need a favor," I say the moment he answers.
"Always, Dante. What is it?"
"Meet me at the club in an hour."
Riding through the hills, the engine of my motorbike roars against the stillness of the evening. The cool breeze of the Queensland night does little to ease the tension gnawing at my insides.
The winding roads and rugged terrain are a necessary evil to get to Eduardo’s home, knowing that what I’m about to do is necessary to protect Lia.
As I approach Eduardo’s large estate, I cut the engine, coast silently to a stop, and leave my bike under the bushes along the roadside for a quick getaway later.
After removing my helmet, I place a black balaclava over my head, securing it inside my black tee shirt. I check my gun before sliding it back into my holster.
Normally, I would ask for help from other mafia sons, call in the favors I've stacked, but this is personal. I want to extinguish this man myself.
Though, creating an alibi with Romeo is in my best interests.
Luckily, Eduardo thinks he is impenetrable. Otherwise, why would he not have the same high fenced security that other Syndicate leaders have? My father thinks the same. But at least his house is more secure than Fort Knox.
The man pacing the grounds is tall, rugged, and extremely vulnerable as I listen to him talking on his cell in Italian.
The Queensland heat is cooler at this time of the evening, but there’s still no need for the overcoat he wears or the boots on his feet. Maybe it’s his armor, or maybe the heavy coat is hiding a bulletproof vest. Whatever his reasons, he’s camouflaged against the night sky, draped from head to toe in black. I suspect he thinks he’s indispensable.
He’s about to find out how wrong he is.
I smile, loving that he’s so distracted by his call that he doesn’t have a clue that I’m so close I can see the muscle sliding in his jaw.
He’s tense.
His hand lifts with his voice as I creep closer. I halt when his deep brown eyes glance around, flashing with annoyance.
“Who killed him?” he asks in a deep Italian accent, surprising me as he switches from speaking Italian to English. “Do you have proof?”
I glance at my watch. Time ticks by ominously as I wait for him to finish his call and stop his heart ticking forever.
I could send a bullet through his brain right now, but that would alert Eduardo and his guards. This kill has to be deadly silent. I also want to be so close to the fucker that he sees it’s me who takes his life; me who watches him when he takes his last breath.
Just like I’ve planned to do since the moment he landed in Australia.
“Fascinating,” he says, his voice low before a smile forms on his lips. “Is that so?”
Crickets chirp in the grounds as I wait patiently for the call to end. But it’s my nerves that are rattled when he says, "Lia Bailey … The girl who works in Rafe de Luca and Cade Saunders club, Angels and Sinners?"
My target is within reach, but I force myself to remain calm. I can't let the thrill of eliminating the man who wants to rid the world of my wife get to me. Not when he is talking about my wife to an unknown person.
As I wait, my mind flashes back to the first time I learned Lia was back in Australia. It was a blow to my heart, a betrayal that I felt in every cell of my body. But nothing hurt me more than finding out she kept the knowledge of my babies from me.
I get it now.
What I don’t know is if she always knew about the assassin hired to eliminate my wife, and if so, why she came back to Australia at all.
And why did he?
Eduardo claimed he was here to protect him, but I have a sneaky suspicion Eduardo is not telling the other mafia leaders the full truth.
Does that mean Eduardo knows exactly who Lia is?
I’ll assume that’s a yes. Which means it’s time for me to up the ante and eliminate every single fucker who impedes me being with my wife and unborn children.
“You claim Cade, Rafe, or Lia poisoned Leonardo’s cigar? Why not anyone else?” he asks and pauses, shaking his head. "I didn't come here for this." His free hand lifts to his face, he pinches the bridge of his nose as he listens. “Why are you adamant it's Lia Bailey?”
He paces up and down as he listens.
He turns his face to me, not that he can see me like I can see him. But there is a flicker of uneasiness in his gaze. One I’ve seen before. Normally only on men who are about to die.
“Okay. Before I can act on that, I’ll need proof.” His eyes narrow as he listens again. A shiver runs down my spine, causing my back to tense up. “But I don’t work for you.”
Like a heavy storm cloud looming, the tension in the air thickens. “Look, I’ll find out more about Lia, but she's Dominic de Luca’s stepdaughter, and that makes it very difficult. You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”
Knowing that Lia is closer to danger than ever before rattles my nerves.
He listens again before he laughs menacingly into his cell. “And like I told you, I don’t work for you.”
With a smirk, he stares at his phone and ends the call.
I was planning to swiftly end his life with a single, decisive slash of my knife across his thick neck. But it’s quicker to put a bullet through his brain.
With the silencer firmly screwed onto my gun, I shuffle with military precision along the damp grass.
Taking a deep breath, I kneel and wait in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike. The target's breathing is steady and even as small puffs of warm air billow from his mouth into the cold air.
He sings to himself, totally unaware of the looming end to his miserable life.
My heart pounds as I shuffle closer again, closing the distance between us with stealth like precision. Then I rise from my knees and within seconds, I press the cold steel of the silenced gun firmly against the back of his head. “Tell me who killed Leonardo Bianchi?” I ask.
Not wanting to ask direct questions about what I overheard. But the only person to die from poisoning lately was Leonardo Bianchi.
He doesn't even twitch at the unexpected contact. “Fuck you.”
I cluck my tongue against his ear. "You should tell me what I ask, otherwise I might as well pull the trigger right now. Or we can make a deal and you can leave Australia and go back to your family in Italy," I whisper harshly into his ear, keeping my voice steady and my will unshaken.
He chuckles, the sound wicked and meant to be unnerving, but I’m the one holding the fucking gun.
“You want to kill something that is mine? And I’ll do the same in return for you. I’ve already killed the two men in New York who were looking for my wife, and another in Italy. No hard feelings. You’d be the same. I have to protect what is mine.”
He grumbles in Italian.
“And while in Italy, someone kindly let me know you’re married. I’ve researched you, Genero Costa. I know where your secret wife lives, your two teenage boys, your eight-year-old daughter. The family you’ve successfully hidden from everyone … but me.”
“Figlio di puttana,” he mutters, but his eyes flicker with concern.
“Is that your worst?” I chuckle. “Tell me who you took the call from and I’ll spare your family,” I hiss into his ear.
“Fottiti!” he yells.
"To Hell you go." I pull the trigger. The gun discharges into his temple, blowing his brain matter from the hole the bullet exited onto the floor.
A puff of smoke fills the air as the hitman crumples to the ground, lifeless.
I grab his cell, scrutinize my surroundings, before soundlessly exiting the grounds as Eduardo’s men run to the sound.