Chapter 43 – Liam
Finn deposited a plate in front of me and a second to Don Morelli. The pasta strands were twisted in a neat ball. Little pieces of deep pink meat dotted the sauce.
There was no other protein.
I frowned. Didn’t a white sauce come with chicken? Or shrimp? Well, if my wife made it this way, then I supposed it was correct. Someday I would ask her why she served the meat separately. Almost like a second course. I would ask her soon, when we had time to just be us.
Picking up my plate, I slid it to Gabriella’s seat. Her head snapped up. That pretty pink lip tucked between her teeth.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. Her fingers played with that funny necklace she sometimes wore. It was like a chili pepper, but research told me it had a more significant meaning.
A horn to ward off evil.
I wanted to pluck her fingers and kiss them. No one would touch her. Not here, not in my house.
You’re safe, little bird.
“He didn’t bring yours.” I picked up my whiskey, swirled the amber liquid over the single cube of ice, and brought it to my lips. “You need to eat.”
Gabriella flushed. “I gave him a crash course in waitering. He was supposed to serve you and Signor Morelli first.”
I sucked the booze between my teeth. The icy burn slid down my throat. “And I’m serving my wife first.”
She relaxed a fraction, the worry brushing off her face. “Oh, well…thank you.”
A snort cracked from the other end of the table. It took everything in my power not to stab my fork in the fecker’s eye. He was a guest in my house. He sat at my table. And he still refused to show my wife a drop of respect.
No matter, Gabriella’s father was here to publicly answer for his crimes…before he paid for them privately.
Finn delivered three more plates. Signor Messina picked up his fork and twisted the strands of pasta around the tines. Connor dug in like a starved animal, the entire clump on his fork as he took a savage bite. Deluca sneered at his plate.
“Something wrong with the food my wife spent all afternoon preparing?” I shot down the table.
Morelli, chewing thoughtfully, slid a look at his capos. Messina shook his head, tapped his napkin on his lips, and murmured, “Delicious, Gabby. Truly. It’s so nice to have a homecooked meal.”
Deluca said nothing.
Finn brought the last plate of pasta, looked at my empty setting, and gave Gabriella a worried frown.
I took it from his hands, mad that everyone else was enjoying the fruits of her labor and not me.
Connor, sitting to my left, smirked. “He’s right, missus. It’s good.”
“Thank you,” Gabriella murmured, smiling softly.
I tried to ignore that as I cut into my food. The first bite was an explosion of flavor. Creamy and savory, the little bites were like bacon, which gave the dish a rich quality.
She was going to make this once a week. If I had to get on my knees and beg, I was going to request it. We would make it a ritual. Sacred. No work would keep me from sharing this dish with her.
But first….
“I want to thank you for coming on such short notice,” I said after swallowing several bites.
Don Morelli inclined his head. “Of course.”
“There’s a matter of some urgency, and as new allies, we have a vested interest in dealing with it as soon as possible.” Fecking hell, I sounded formal.
I sound like Da.
As if that realization summoned his ghost, a chill rattled through me, and I shivered slightly.
“What’s happened?” Messina set down his fork, steepled his hands, and stared at me. “Vincenzo told me everything was fine.”
Connor slurped his last strand of pasta.
I leveled a look at Messina. For his son’s sake, I wouldn’t harm a hair on the capo’s head. Vincenzo was a killer, but that wasn’t what stayed my hand. I respected V. Maybe even liked him. And so far, his father hadn’t done anything wrong.
“There’s a rot in your organization,” I said harshly. “I’m dealing with it before it infects mine.”
Deluca’s face turned putrid. “You little whore!”
Gabriella winced. She set her fork down, her food mostly untouched. But she didn’t drop her gaze.
No…my wife stared at her father.
Such a little warrior.
“What lies have you been spewing?” Deluca hissed.
“She hasn’t said anything.” I reached into the pocket of my jeans. Producing the slim, circular piece of metal, I set it on the table. “I figured it out.”
Gabriella paled. “Liam, I—”
Gripping her palm in my bare hand, I squeezed it. “She’s done being your unwilling spy, Deluca. If you want me dead, be a man and do it yourself.”
Don Morelli pushed to his feet, knuckles on the table’s edge, as he glared between his capo and me. “Explain.”
“Your piece of shit captain has been forcing his daughter to track my whereabouts.” I drummed my fingers against the table. The middle hit the tracker every time, driving the point home. “I’ve had enough.”
The Italian boss pressed his lips into a tight line. “I thought this was about his personal life.”
Deluca threw his napkin on his plate and began to shout in Italian.
Gabriella winced.
“I’m getting to that.” I rose and pressed a kiss on my wife’s forehead before straightening. “I just wanted to lay the groundwork.”
“Groundwork?” Morelli repeated.
“Yes,” I said smoothly. “So, they’ll be no misunderstandings between our organizations.”
“I’ve had enough.” Deluca shot to his feet. No doubt he felt the current of violence and like the rodent that he was, he knew it was time to scuttle to safety.
“Sit down,” Morelli boomed.
“No, don, he’s free to leave.” I walked to the dining room door and held it open.
Deluca gave me a wary look, before scanning the rest of the room.
He took one, pointed step toward me.
“After I do this.” I pounced.
Gabriella’s father was not a small man. It took a concentrated effort to shove him against the doorframe. A slippery fecker, he nearly escaped my grip on his dress shirt. The buttons tore in places. His bellow rang through the room.
“Watch his hook!” Connor chortled from where he sat.
I dodged the blow, managed to press my left forearm on the bastard’s windpipe, and pinned him to the wall. Reaching my gloved hand to the back of my waist, I pulled out my gun.
There was no plea from the room behind me. That answered the question as to her loyalty. No love was lost between father and daughter.
Pointing the barrel of the gun, I emptied the clip into the wall.
Deluca stretched his neck and leaned out of the way, face scrunched up in misery as the bullets popped beside his ear.
In the roar of the silence that followed, I bent forward to speak directly into the undamaged ear. “Next time you think about laying a hand on my wife, I’ll empty it in your skull. Got it?”
He heard me. The fecker nodded once.
I pressed my arm into his throat, grinding the tendons and vertebrae under my grip.
It was a promise that I wasn’t waiting for the next time.
I was coming for him. In the dark, when he least expected it.
But for pretense, I did my husbandly duty.
Our alliance was safe. And I had Gabriella’s promise secured.
That was what card sharks would call the perfect hand.
I released him, and Deluca slumped to the floor.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I barked.
Turning, I faced the music. But it wasn’t Morelli’s somber glower or Messina’s sharp shock. Connor’s wry mirth was the melodic background to the pair of gorgeous brown eyes flecked with gold. I stared at my wife, who wasn’t smiling at me.
It’s for her own good.
Assassinating someone was a messy business. If word got out what I was going to do, I wasn’t risking Gabriella being a coconspirator.
My beautiful wife stared at me and swallowed thickly. Slowly, she pushed to her feet.
Disappointment was etched across her beautiful features.
“Excuse me, Signori. I’m not feeling well.” Gabriella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and scooted around the table.
I waited for her to look at me. She dipped her chin and, staring hard at the floor, rushed past me.
My hands fisted at my sides. It was necessary. I needed the truth if we were ever going to move forward with our relationship. She would always see me as a monster, so what did it matter if I acted like one?
She hates you.
Fuck…maybe I screwed up.
The dinner was effectively ruined. Finn brought out the second course, a delicious cut of roasted chicken and toasted vegetables. But the guests were already saying their goodbyes. When it was just Connor and I, we took our dinner to the kitchen island, where Finn was already eating.
Through the window, Gabriella wandered the backyard, occasionally throwing the yellow ball for Storm.
I’m going to fix this, little bird.
The truth would set us free.
“You think it was only him?” my best friend asked.
I shook my head. “Deluca would have gained nothing from my death.”
“His daughter would be a wealthy widow,” Connor pointed out, tearing a piece of breast from the bone.
Finn picked apart a thigh. “We wouldn’t let her move back in with him, though.”
“He might have forced her.” Connor paused to suck the juices off his fingers. “He’s a manipulative sonofabitch.”
This talk of my demise and Gabriella left on her own soured my stomach. I could see it, plain as day. She would be free to marry whoever held a claim on her heart. The fingers of my gloved hand curled into a fist.
Not fucking happening.
“Watch Deluca,” I ordered my second in command.
“I’ve got Seamus and Collin on it.” Connor waved his breast absently.
I plucked the damn meat from the air and dropped it on his plate. “He’s going to react.”
“Is that why you didn’t kill him, boss?” Finn flashed me a toothy grin, pieces of skin stuck to his teeth.
I glared at him. “Yes.”
That detail just so happened to be an added bonus.
“Now we’ll see who he’s working with. Smart.” Finn rubbed his hands together before reaching to pick chicken from his teeth. “I’ll come with you, Con. Unless…you need me here, boss?”
“No. Go.” I crossed my arms and went to stand at the sink.
Storm capered and ran about, and the beauty?
My little bird just stood there, staring at the sliver of moon, hands wrapped around her stomach.
The black stone in my chest fucking bled to see it.
If I had a heart, I’d tear it out and give it to her.
Maybe smashing it to pieces would finally turn those rosy lips up.