32. Heaven
CHAPTER 32
HEAVEN
“T his is it. He’s in here.” Just like the last guy told us before I stabbed him. Silent is the way to go and getting my brother to comply is harder with each move we make.
But he’s scared of Sergio like he was—is—of Matteo, so he’s toeing the line. For now. Behind us, the floor is littered with bodies, and I know there are more people somewhere. The sooner we get this done the better.
Conor opens his mouth, but Sergio steps in. “I’ve got your back, Natasha Romanoff.”
“Ready?”
They both nod. And I count to three with my fingers. I reach for the door and shove it open.
Sergio takes one guy, Conor the other, and there I am in a dark, smoke-filled room with girls cowering, some half-naked. I glance at Sergio, who herds them to the door. They don’t need to be told twice. They run. And I keep going.
One more door.
Everything I am is focused on it as I grab the handle and turn it.
It opens wide and there he is. Dominguez. Spread-eagle on a leather sofa. He’s got a blunt hanging out of his mouth, a thick stream of smoke billowing into the air above him.
He’s naked from the waist down, a young girl who looks to be about sixteen on her knees in front of him, sucking his dick. I can see the tears glistening on her cheeks and my gut clenches. I take a few steps toward him, waiting for a guard to jump out at any second.
He’s alone from what I can tell.
Weird.
The guy is worth billions. He’d really leave himself this vulnerable?
I clutch the knife in my hand, creeping toward him. His eyes are drooped closed as he face-fucks the girl.
My blood bubbles to the point of eruption as I inch closer, so close, the noxious scent of his cologne making me retch. I close my hand around his neck. His eyes open, red and bloodshot. His mustache quirks upward when he smiles at me.
“Did you really think you’d be able to turn the tables on me, Heaven? You thought you could beat me at my own game, didn’t you? Your husband couldn’t stop me, and neither can you. When your brother took the life of my daughter, you all failed. But you will pay, Heaven. Your family, the Villanis. What happens today doesn’t matter. There is still a debt to be paid, and you will all suffer just as my family has.”
I squeeze my hand harder and he grips my wrist with more force than I’d think he could muster since he’s probably higher than the fucking heavens right now.
“No,” I say, my voice shaking. “This is over, right now. You’re finished.” The girl who’d been sucking him off scrambles away, seeking refuge in a corner of the room. “Take your debts and shove them up your fat ass, ese .”
Gunshots explode behind me, the impact so close, it rattles my brain. A loud crashing sound makes me shudder. I clutch Dominguez’s thick neck, bringing up my knife.
“Heaven! Get out now!”
It’s not Conor’s voice but Sergio’s. My skin prickles, fury consuming me when the realization strikes.
Someone has hurt Conor. I may hate him right now, but he’s still my family.
I let out a roar, kicking my foot against Dominguez’s chest, sending the couch flying back against the floor. He jumps up, still half-naked, and grabs my hair, flinging me against the plaster wall.
My knife clatters as I hit the wall, but I spy Dominguez’s gun on the floor. It must have fallen off the couch. I grasp it and turn toward Dominguez who finally looks like he knows how fucked he is right now.
“You’re finished.” I fire off as many bullets as the gun has left, and his body jerks as they rip through him.
The girl on the floor screams, clutching the sides of her head while I empty the mag. I drop the gun once he falls to the floor like the sack of shit he is.
My chest heaves as I run to the door. Conor’s on the floor, Sergio kneeling right next to him. There’s a bloodstain spreading over his shirt, his face paler than usual. But he’s alive. Awake. Relief floods me.
Sergio hoists Conor up. “Let’s go.”
“We need to get out of here,” I say when we get to the car. “You drive, I’ll take your phone.”
After putting Conor in the back seat, Sergio tosses his phone to me, gets into the driver’s seat, and slams his foot on the gas once the car is in gear. The car jerks backward and he throws it into drive, peeling around the bend and kicking up a cloud of dirt in our wake.
With shaking fingers, I go to his recent calls and click on Roman.
But nobody picks up.
My pulse rockets and I scrub a hand down the front of my face. There can be a million reasons why.
The ringer might be off.
The phone may have slipped out of Roman’s pocket and he doesn’t realize it’s gone.
He might not have service in the hospital.
He might be talking to the doctor.
Fear clutches me like an icy cold hand to the throat, squeezing hard and constricting my breath.
Matteo might be dead.
Sergio’s jaw tightens as he heads back downtown toward the hospital. “Don’t get crazy,” he says. “You don’t know why Romo’s not answering.”
I nod, blinking fast to keep the tears in check. Jesus Christ, I’m the lead car in the hot mess express right now. My husband, my enemy, might be dead, or he might be fighting for his life. And while I have so much to say to him…so many things to yell at him, I have no idea if I’ll even get the chance.
I also don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look him in the eye again and tell him that despite everything, I’m evidently a glutton for punishment and I love him.
We finally get to the hospital. I rush inside as Sergio leaves Conor with the ER nurse. My aunt’s still here so she can take care of that mess.
I need…I need…
I stop when I see Roman, Dante, and Matteo’s father seated in a corner. “Have you heard anything?”
Dante shakes his head, pushing back his longish, dark hair. “No.”
I meet the tired and drawn eyes of Paolo, who’s hunched over in the chair across from me, his head in his hands.
My father-in-law.
“He’s a good man,” he says to me in a thick Italian accent. “He was doing right by his family.”
“And wrong by mine,” I say in a low voice. “By me .”
Paolo shrugs his shoulders. “When Matteo was younger, he suffered a lot of loss and it taught him plenty. I watched him become the man he is today, a strong, disciplined, and strategic thinker. I trust him and his decisions. We may not always agree on the ‘how,’ but we agree on the ‘what.’ Family and loyalty are most important. If you have those things, you can battle any enemy.” Paolo takes my hand in his. “And he needs an equally strong woman by his side.”
“He saved my life,” I say, my voice trembling. “After I’d overheard the whole plot this morning. He came after me…to protect me.”
“Because he loves you,” Paolo says. “I know you’re confused and you feel that he betrayed you, but he wants to make it right. Give him the chance to do what he vowed to do.”
I let out a deep sigh, but I don’t say the words in my head.
Love is love. But trust?
If he survives, can I trust him? Now that Dominguez is gone, I want Matteo to live. I love him. I can’t change that. But his love came in a hail of bullets. An act of selflessness, one that smacks of heroism, but not the long haul.
Will he still feel the same if he lives?
Will we ever find trust?
And will I ever have the chance to find out?