CHAPTER 12
I should not have a fucking boner as I’m watching Viola. This is a job. Considering Mateo fucked up so royally three days ago, I’m not sure why it’s still a job I’ve been tasked with. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to still be watching our woman, but I expected the man in charge to pull me off the job.
You know, now with everything out in the open.
Except it’s not because he’s been wallowing in his own self-pity for days. I can even see the regret in his eyes and Mateo is not the kind of man who regrets much.
The fact that he regrets the words he said to Viola says a lot.
I’m not going to say anything to Viola about it because he needs to fix his own fuck ups. Instead, I’ve made sure to stay in contact with il nostro cuore since I slipped out of her house early in the morning after the whole blow up.
As much as I wanted to stay with her and never let her leave the sanctuary of my arms, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. I haven’t been able to hold her since, and I ache to be closer to her.
For now, watching her at a distance is enough. She has an extra guy on her now when she leaves the house, but it doesn’t mean I think she’s any safer. If Dante does, good for him, but I’ve been on edge all day.
I can’t shake the feeling in my gut. Something is going to happen, and the extra man isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing to stop it. I can only sit and watch.
It’s fucking killing me.
It’s been tense as fuck around the house the last few days too and I’m thankful as fuck that I haven’t spent a lot of time around my brothers. Neither Massimo nor I are talking to Mateo right now and I can see how much strain it’s causing. We shared a womb, but right now we’re not on the same wavelength and until Mateo gets his shit together, I don’t see the stalemate ending any time soon.
I can’t pull his head out of his ass. It’s something he’s going to have to do himself.
Viola seems to be a little listless today as she runs some errands around the city, including going to the grocery store. It’s not something she normally does, opting to have her groceries delivered instead. I have a feeling she’s trying to keep herself busy and I’m pretty sure I know why.
I’ve parked in the perfect spot so I can see the back of the store and the area of the parking lot on the side where her car is parked. Every glimpse I’ve gotten of our heart is a fucking gift.
I want to put a smile on our woman’s face, so I pull my phone out and send her a text.
Are you buying whipped cream in there?
Our Heart:
Why would I be buying whipped cream?
Are you having naughty thoughts?
When it comes to you, I’m always having naughty thoughts.
Miss you.
Our Heart:
Miss you too.
Maybe I should get some whipped cream.
I chuckle at her response and let the conversation go there. It’s not unusual for her to be on the phone, but I’ve found, from watching her, when she’s doing a task, she focuses on it and doesn’t allow a lot of distractions. It’s something I admire about her because she does the same thing with people—gives them her full attention.
There’s some movement at the back of the store and I squint, as if it’ll make it easier to see what is going on. The sound of a van screeching to a halt is loud as I notice two guys hauling someone out of the back door of the grocery store. The flash of green has me on edge because it looks like the same color Viola is wearing today.
I throw my car in drive and move closer. Right before the back doors of the van close, which is where whoever the people grabbed was just thrown, I get a clear view of Viola slumped over, her gorgeous hair falling like a waterfall over her shoulder.
My eyes widen and my heart starts to race as one of the guys who grabbed her jump into the passenger seat, the other having already gotten in the back with our woman. They race out of the alley, and I’m frozen for a second. That second is too long because when I snap back to reality and try to give chase, I don’t see the van when I look down the street in the direction they turned.
I pound on the steering wheel, regret and pure fucking terror filling me.
I quickly pull out and point my car toward the office which is where I know Mateo is. Probably Massimo as well. We might not be talking to our brother, but that doesn’t mean work stops. Massimo has thrown himself into work since he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.
The legitimate trading business we have isn’t exactly a front, but there’s not only legal business going on within our walls.
I’m barely paying attention as I drive through the city, wishing I could break every single traffic law along the way. Cops would only make this situation worse. The thought of Viola being in danger, hurt, or worse, is the only reason I’m able to hold onto a sliver of my control.
I want to scream the entire drive, but instead I’m completely silent except for my ragged breathing.
I’m pretty sure one of the guys I saw throw Viola in the back of the van works for Martinez. Okay, I’m not pretty sure. I’m positive, but if I focus on it then I’ll go and track that scum bucket down right now and put a bullet between his eyes.
I need to be smarter than that.
It’s not easy to do.
I find myself doing something I haven’t done in years—pray. If we can get our woman out of this, if she’s safe and unharmed, I’ll do anything in my power to keep her safe for the rest of her life. I’ll ensure Mateo makes it right with her. I’ll even make sure he puts down his wild vendetta with the Guidice family.
I’d rather the Guidice family be related through marriage than be my enemy.
The thought has my dick trying to twitch in my pants, but now is not the time. Not at all.
I’m almost frothing at the mouth by the time I get to the office, park haphazardly, and race inside. I don’t stop when the lady at the reception desk tries to flirt with me. She can fuck all the way off.
I swing Mateo’s door open with so much force that it hits the wall with a loud noise and starts to swing back at me. My brother is visibly annoyed at the sound, the receiver of a phone pressed to his ear, but concern takes over his features when he looks at my face.
“I’ll have to call you back,” he mutters into the phone.
I lean out of my brother’s office and shout, “Massimo!”
Mateo stands up and starts to approach me, his hands out in front of him as if I’m a wild animal who needs to be handled with care. Oh, how right you are, big brother. Am I growling? I might be.
Massimo skids to a stop inside the office before glancing at me and then Mateo. He closes the door before he steps in front of me and grips my shoulders. There’s panic in his eyes, something I feel in the deepest parts of my soul.
He gives me a little shake. “Why aren’t you watching Viola? You should be watching her,” he gets louder with every word.
“She was grocery shopping,” my words are clipped as I try and detach from what I’m about to say. It’s no use. “I was texting her and teasing that she should get some whipped cream.”
“You were texting her,” Mateo’s voice is so fucking angry, and I barely stop myself from punching him.
I flick my gaze to him and then look back at Massimo who is nodding as if trying to coax me to keep talking. I take a deep shuddering breath because it gets worse. So much fucking worse.
“I was positioned so I could see most of the parking lot and the back door. There was a screech of tires and then two men come out the back carrying someone. They threw her in, and I moved closer.” My voice cracks, “They have her.”
Mateo roars, “Who the fuck has our woman?”
I narrow my eyes at my brother and scoff, “Our woman? You mean the one you told, a few days ago, that she means nothing to us? The one you called a whore?”
I’m about to lose my shit and I don’t think anyone is going to be able to stop me. I need blood and if I can’t have the blood of the people who kidnapped Viola, then the blood of the man who hurt her, brother or not, will have to do.
I take a step closer to Mateo, but Massimo is there to stop me. He gives me another shake. “Who took her? Making our brother bleed isn’t going to help us find her. We need to find her,” there’s a note of desperation in his tone which resonates with me.
I look into Massimo’s eyes, so much like mine, and try to stand strong. “I’m almost positive one of the men who grabbed her works for Martinez.”
Massimo lets go of me and spins around to look at Mateo. Is he looking at him to accuse him of putting Viola in danger? It would be accurate as fuck if he is. I can’t help but watch on gleefully. Massimo might be the sweet one of us, but threatening his heart? Putting her in danger?
That might as well be a death sentence sanctioned by the angels themselves.
I don’t expect to witness Mateo crumble in front of us. He drops to his knees and my instincts have me rushing to him.
“Fuck,” Mateo wails, the sound so fucking wounded and full of pain that I feel it in my own soul. “This is my fault,” he whispers.
His eyes slide closed, and I can feel his guilt and shame like it’s a living thing pulsing around us. The three of us have always been in tune. We haven’t always needed to talk to know where we stand. This is no different.
Without opening his eyes, he asks me, “I’m not trying to question you or what you saw, but are you sure?”
“Yes,” I push the word past my lips because I’ve seen the slimy weasel who put his hands on our woman standing with Martinez.
Mateo’s head drops forward as he rests his chin against his chest and takes a few deep breaths. When he stands up, he does it slowly and we help him. The look in his eyes promises destruction and death when he looks at me and then Massimo.
If I didn’t know the man, if he wasn’t my brother, I would be scared of him right now.
My mouth drops open when he brushes off his suit jacket, straightening the cuffs and then strides back to his desk calmly. He sits and takes another deep breath. Before I can berate him and ask him what the fuck he’s doing, his phone rings.
With the press of one button, he puts the call on speaker and shoots me a censuring look. “Falsini,” my brother barks out.
A raspy laugh fills the room, and my gut is screaming at me. I know exactly who is on the other end of the line. The man makes a tsking sound when he’s done laughing, which has me sharing a look with Massimo.
“Mateo,” the man sneers my brother’s name as if he’s an errant child. “It seems I have something of value to you.”
I start to lunge toward the phone, but Massimo catches me and gives me a fierce look. He has a point, it’s not like I can reach through the phone and rip the bastard’s throat out. No. I’ll have to do it in person.
I can’t fucking wait.
“I don’t like being cheated,” Martinez continues when our brother doesn’t say anything. “I think the only way this goes down, fairly,” I almost scoff, “is if the money I paid for those overpriced items is returned to me.”
“We don’t do refunds,” Mateo replies smoothly.
That raspy fucking laugh is back and my fists clench at my sides. “Refund?” Martinez laughs harder. “I don’t want a refund. I’m going to keep the product and you’ll be giving me my money back. Simple.”
“No,” there’s no room for argument in Mateo’s voice.
The sound of a woman, our woman, screaming cuts through for a moment before Martinez hangs up and it feels like my stomach drops to the floor.