Chapter 35 Kane
Kane
Lorenzo swerves out of the way a fraction of a second before the iron poker splits his skull open. I swear the old bastard has nine fucking lives.
It’s a shame Chiara missed. The world would be a better place without him in it. Time slows down as the poker completes its arc, and then my gaze snags on the dark bruises flowering around her neck.
Without thinking it through, I charge into the room.
Only Angelo reaches Chiara first. Lorenzo releases his grip on Chiara’s throat. She falls to the floor, choking and wheezing. As I move to grab her, Angelo slams his fist into his father’s face with a satisfying crack.
From Lorenzo’s shocked expression, Angelo’s attack came out of left field, but there’s only so many times you can kick a dog before he bites back.
Chiara doesn’t protest when I pick her up and pull her out the door. She pushes something into her purse and lets me tug her down the hallway toward the main entrance.
A woman screams from deeper inside the house, and a few moments later, Lorenzo’s guards rush past us, heading for the study. Lorenzo must have pressed his panic button. There was a time when he’d have bested Angelo in a fight, but not now.
“Will Angelo be okay?” Chiara frowns as we hurry outside. Several servants mill around, confused and worried, but I pay them no attention.
“He’ll be fine, kitten,” I reassure her. Lorenzo might be mad as a hatter, but he’s not stupid enough to kill his son and heir. “Did he hurt you?” When we reach the Escalade, I stop and examine her neck and face. Fingerprint bruises mar her perfect skin, and there’s a nasty bruise on her cheek.
If Angelo doesn’t kill the old bastard, I will.
“A bit,” she admits before grinning. “But it was worth it.”
A chuckle escapes. “You’re crazy, you know that?” She really is the perfect match for us.
“Not crazy. Just awfully drunk.” She giggles before her smile fades. “Fuck. What about Fina? We can’t leave her in that House of Horrors! Not with Santini slobbering over her like a dog with a bone.”
Her gaze skitters over my shoulder toward the gardens, and we both hear the dogs howling in excitement. Has Lorenzo unleashed the hellhounds?
“Quick, get in the car,” I urge. He’s insane enough to set the dogs free in a tantrum, even if innocent guests end up mauled to death. The mad bastard would see that as unavoidable collateral damage.
“I don’t want Angelo to get eaten by a Hound of the Baskervilles!” Chiara cries as I yank the car door open and push her in. Her dress rides up, giving me a glimpse of thigh. Fuck, this is a seriously bad time to pop a boner, but my dick doesn’t care.
“I thought you hated him?”
“I do, but he doesn’t deserve to end up as dog chow. And we need to rescue Fina!”
“She’ll be fine. Angelo will make sure of that. I promise.” She nods, apparently pacified, so I hurriedly close her door and jump into the driver’s seat before gunning the engine.
More guards spill from the house, some of them heading our way as Angelo comes storming down the steps. He looks unscathed, thankfully.
He shoves a guard out of the way and climbs into the passenger seat. “What about Fina and Matteo?” I ask. “Are they still inside?”
“No, Matteo messaged me to say they’d left and will stay in the city tonight, as it’s closer and Fina’s not feeling well. Now go before Dad locks the gates.”
I don’t need asking twice. This car is armored and more than capable of crashing through Lorenzo’s reinforced gates, but I’d rather not make a mess of it. Not with my girl on board.
“Want to tell me what happened?” Angelo doesn’t respond for a few minutes.
He’s vibrating with rage but masking it well.
Probably so he doesn’t wake Chiara up - she dozed off a few miles from Lorenzo’s estate.
When I glance in the rearview mirror, she’s slumped against the window, relaxed for the first time all evening.
“He laid his fucking hands on her,” my friend seethes.
I understand how he feels. “She was laughing when I pulled her outside, but that’s the alcohol numbing her emotions. Once she sobers up, she’ll be a mess again.”
He clenches his fist, drawing my attention to the dried blood all over his hands and pants. “Lorenzo’s?”
“Some of it is Santini’s.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”
I’m not exactly surprised. The stupid fuck went to great lengths to push Angelo’s buttons this evening, which is always a colossal mistake.
“Yeah. He’s dead.” The steering wheel jerks in my hands at his calm statement, and we almost veer off the road until I quickly course correct. Chiara stirs before settling again with a faint grumble.
As much as the thought of Santini lying dead pleases me, I don’t like the prospect of whatever revenge plan Lorenzo will cook up to make Angelo pay.
“What the fuck, Angelo? Your father will go nuts!”
“Yeah. Dad’s staff will probably have found the body by now, although he might not realize it was me.
” Unlike Angelo’s house, where the security system is state-of-the-art, Lorenzo is Old School.
He relies on vicious dogs and armed guards.
No cameras except for a few around the perimeter of the estate.
I’m guessing he might change his mind about that after tonight.
Angelo smirks before sobering. “After what he’s done to Chiara, I don’t give a fuck whether he finds out it was me. He can deal with the mess.”
“So did you get any information out of Santini before you killed him?”
“Not really, no. The bastard started telling me what he planned to do to Fina. I lost it. Shot him in the head.”
His jaw ticks, and he clenches his fists harder. “The only useful thing he said was that Dad is working with Tim Remington.”
I slide a confused look in his direction as we reach the road back to his estate. It’s pitch black out here, the moon hidden behind the clouds, and there are no farms for miles.
It’s a perfect night for disposing of a body or two.
“That’s interesting.” Very interesting. “We could go back and intercept Remington. I doubt he’ll have left before us.” It would be an awful tragedy if Remington had an accident on his way home.
“No, not with Chiara in the car. She’s my priority.” Angelo goes silent, thinking. He frowns. “Why would my father want to strike a deal with Remington? I don’t see how he benefits. Remington’s business doesn’t intersect with ours, unless…” His voice trails off.
“Unless?”
“Unless he’s planning to get into the flesh trade behind my back.”
We both know Remington’s high-end Gentleman’s Clubs are a front for sex trafficking, which Lorenzo has expressed an interest in. Mostly so he can have his pick of the whores shipped in from the Baltic States and Africa.
Francesca is the whore he parades in public, but I doubt even she can stomach the fucked-up shit he likes behind closed doors.
“Fuck, if he’s done a deal with Remington, I wonder what else he’s been up to while I’ve been distracted? Was Remington behind Chiara’s kidnapping?”
I don’t reply because I honestly have no clue, but if he was behind our girl’s ordeal, he’ll pay with his life.