Tattletale (Paladin #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

FIONA

“You know what I want, Fiona?” Luca asks, weaving his thick fingers into my knotted hair from behind. He pulls my head up from the pillow.

“I don’t care,” I whisper weakly.

“I want to take these chains off.” He releases my hair, and my face lands back into the soft pillow. Luca tugs on the handcuffs that are binding my wrists behind my back. “I could fuck you properly without your hands bound together.”

Turning my face so my nose is no longer buried in the pillow, I take a deep breath. But it nearly makes me gag. The room is stuffy, and it smells like sex. Luca’s cum is slowly dripping down my lower back. It takes all my self-restraint not to vomit all over the satin pillowcase.

“Then take them off,” I bite out.

“Last time I did that, you hit me. Can you promise to play nice?”

“No.”

He laughs, then climbs off, jostling me and the mattress. I keep my eyes forward, staring blankly at the heinous red wallpaper and the golden Accardi family crest painted on the walls. I have a coping mechanism. If I don’t look, it’s easier. If I can’t see it, it’s not real.

The light switch clicks as Luca enters the bathroom. Then, the faucet runs. He’s washing himself clean of me.

To any other woman, Luca is probably considered handsome. He has a strong jaw and full lips, and his nose and cheeks are carved from sleek, masculine lines. His body feels heavy when he’s on top of me, the weight from his large frame filled with thick muscles.

When I’m alone, locked in this room, which is my current prison, I fantasize about the way I’d slit his throat. A bullet wouldn’t be enough for the man who slaughtered my family right in front of my eyes. Too quick. Too clean. One day, when I kill Luca Accardi, I want to watch the blood drain from his body. I’ll make it painful. He’ll scream like my family screamed. I hope he hits the ground even harder than my father did.

I held Pappa as he took his final breath, telling him it was okay. I’d protect what was left of the O’Leary clan. I promised I’d spend the rest of my life honoring what he built. But they were empty words. I’m barely eighteen. More of a girl than a woman, Pappa always reminded me.

When we lost my mother, I was ten, and my sister, Saoirse, only seven. After a car accident, he was suddenly alone in the world to raise two young daughters. For a while, I cooked, cleaned, and cared for my baby sister as best I could at ten years old. Pappa was lost in grief. For months, he sat stoically in his armchair in front of the fireplace. He barely moved from that stiff, red chair. He hardly ate or slept. I didn’t think he’d ever crave sunshine again.

But finally, after months of the painful ache, he joined me for a walk in the hills. It was in the middle of July, and our beloved homeland of Ireland was the warmest it’d be all year. We walked silently for a quarter mile before Pappa stopped to scoop up something from the dirt trail.

He gently closed his fist, protecting whatever was inside before squatting down so we were at eye level. I’ll never forget his words, eight years ago…

“My little babe, I need you and your sister to stay small like this forever. That way I can keep you close, right in my palm, and protect yeh. Understand?”

I nod, my eager, ten-year-old eyes fixed on his fist. “Yes.”

For the first time in months, he cracks a small smile. “You want to see what it is?”

When I nod again and hold out my hand, he places a small cricket in my palm. I expect it to eagerly jump away, free from my father’s clutches. But the brown cricket is immobile.

“Pappa? You killed it?” I ask.

“No, Fiona. He’s feigning death. Clever little fella. Waiting for the perfect moment to escape.”

I shake my head slowly, my blond ringlets grazing my cheek. Rotating my wrist, I try to move the cricket, but it seems glued in place. “No, Pappa. It’s dead. I think—”

It leaps, leaving me speechless. In one single bound, the cricket is out of sight, chirping its victory. Its song of freedom fades as it disappears deep into the field. “I would’ve kept it,” I say. “ Given it a good home, and plenty to eat.”

“ Hmm,” Pappa replies. “No, Fiona. It’s cruel to cage a cricket. They belong to the earth. When it’s warm enough, they fill the air with songs. Very underestimated little creatures.”

“They are wee things, Pappa. What could we possibly underestimate?”

He points to my open hand. “When I was a lad, a swarm of crickets banned together and cleared half of my grandpappa’s farmland. Most of the harvest was massacred. What was left, rotted. We went hungry that winter. Little babe, crickets aren’t intimidating on their own. But in numbers, they can be devastating.”

I smile at him, understanding his metaphor. “Stronger with its family?”

Pappa ruffles my hair. “Aye.”

But now, I’m alone.

The O’Leary clan was killed right before my eyes. My sister is also at the mercy of the Accardi mafia. I’m eighteen, at least. God forbid they touched her. She’s still just a child. It’s why I haven’t wrapped these cuffs around Luca’s throat. I would die trying to end him…but he has answers. He knows where Saoirse was taken.

I still refuse to look at him when he exits the en suite bathroom, so I didn’t anticipate the towel in his hand. Straddling the back of my thighs, he runs the hot cloth over my back in gentle strokes, cleaning off the remnants of his release.

“I’m going to take these cuffs off, Fiona. Promise me you’ll behave. I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he murmurs. At some point, while I was drifting off in memories of my childhood, Luca procured a key. There’s a satisfying click as the cuff latch releases on one side. My aching left arm slumps onto the bed beside me.

There’s no hope for escape.

I know his game. I’m treated one of two ways in the Accardi mansion. My wrists are either bound, or I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. “Behave,” is the command Luca constantly gives me.

“There. That has to feel better, right?” Luca asks as the metal cuff falls from my right wrist. “Turn over.”

“You got what you wanted.” I glance at the wet rag he discarded on the ground. “Please just leave me.”

“Fiona, turn over ,” he says again, grabbing my bare hips and flipping me easily.

Sitting up, back against the headboard, I cover my naked breasts. I pretend like there’s a place left for modesty. Luca’s seen me. Touched me. Every part of me. For a month now, since his family massacred mine, he’s kept me locked in this makeshift prison, using me as a toy to play with.

“Look at me,” he whispers. “It doesn’t have to be like this. I could take care of you. If you’d just open your heart to me.”

For the first time since he arrived in my room this evening, my eyes snap to his. “Open my heart to the man who slayed my father?”

He gives me a dark glance. “You weren’t to come to America. My father made that clear. This is the mafia’s territory. Cillian was a stubborn man who started a war he couldn’t finish. You’re a daughter of the mob, Fiona. You know this is the way of our worlds. Messages are sent with bloodshed.”

“How dare you speak his name? Your men ambushed him in the house he shared with his daughters. You shot him from behind. You doused his men in barrels of lighter fluid and lit his home on fire. There’s no honor in that. It was unnecessarily cruel, even for the Accardi.”

Luca’s gaze shifts. “It was not my idea. You’re not the only one shackled by your bloodline. My father is cruel to his enemies. Even more so to his own kin. You’re lucky I’m the one here in America. Had it been my father or my elder brothers, they would not have spared you and your sister.”

“Spared?” I practically spit out. “Is that what you call taking what’s not yours?” I cross my legs tightly, pressing my thighs so hard together they ache.

“Not mine?” He raises his brow. “We had a deal.”

After the Accardi men stormed my home and killed my father and his men, they kidnapped me and my sister, but took us in different directions. I fought, I screamed. They knocked me out with a blow to the head to silence me. I ended up in Luca’s mansion, locked in a windowless room. I know I’m on the second floor, at least. The boards beneath sound hollow when I stomp. But that’s all I know. The door to the room is solid steel, impossible to break down. There’s no lock to pick. The door is automatic, only opened with a code.

The first time Luca visited, he told me he instructed his men to never strike me again. He said I was his guest, not his prisoner. But when his hand crept up my thighs, I headbutted him. He smacked me so hard my head spun for hours. The next day, when he unzipped his pants and put his cock near my lips, I took the opportunity to bite him. He starved me for two days after that.

It couldn’t go on if I wanted to live, which I honestly questioned. It’d be easier if I was buried in the ground with my mother and my father. But if Saoirse is alive, I have to stay alive, too. Luca relished the idea of a living doll he could play with. So, we struck a deal. My sister was safe, in exchange for my cooperation.

But Luca’s had me dozens of times…and still no word of my sister.

“You have yet to fulfill your end of the deal, Luca. Where is Saoirse? How do I know she’s okay?”

He reaches out to run the inline of his thumb against my cheek. “You’ll have to trust me.”

I pull away from his touch. “I don’t.”

“Fiona.” He whispers my name like a lover would. It makes me sick. “I’m leaving America. My work here is done, and with Cillian in the ground, my father is ready to welcome me home with open arms. Come with me to Italy.”

“Where I can be passed around like a whore to your brothers as well?”

“Come with me as my bride ,” he says. “Princess of the mob and the prince of the mafia. It’s an alliance that would be celebrated. My father never wanted a war with Cillian. He just wanted his obedience. I promise you, I’d never chain my wife. I’ll make an honest woman out of you. You’ll be dripping in diamonds and drive the fanciest cars. I’ll have a throne fastened for you. If you could just learn to love me, like I love you.”

I’m rendered speechless.

Love?

Is that what this miserable excuse of a man thinks love is?

“Don’t pretend you understand love, Luca. I know the stories about your cold-hearted monster of a father and your miserable, twisted family.”

One side of his mouth curls into a snarl. “Careful,” he says.

Ignoring my good sense, I continue to taunt him. “I was told your mother died giving birth to your stillborn sister. Your father, Vic, was so distraught he chained up his sons and whipped you all bloody, claiming you were wasted pregnancies while he begged his god to take you instead, and return his wife and daughter.”

He flinches. “I’ll say it again… careful. ”

I don’t heed his warning. “You know what my father did when my mother died? He loved me and Saoirse even more to try and make up for the parent we lost.”

Luca barks out a laugh. “What do you know of Cillian? You paint him as some saint, but he was just as cruel as my father. Maybe more so. You don’t become a mob boss without filling a graveyard with your bare hands. But I bet you don’t peek behind the bloody curtains, do you, girl? Wake up.”

“We’re nothing like you,” I practically spit at him. “O’Learys are honor and valiance. You and your cult are snakes, operating in shameful shadows. My father would never do this to a woman.” I gesture to the still tender bruises on my temple and cheek where Luca struck me a while back.

“He was very clever.”

“What?” His statement catches me off guard.

“It takes a smart man to live a double life. Pappa to his daughters, but a ruthless brute to everyone else. At least my father embraced his destiny… It could be different with us, Fiona. We’re a lot alike. We both bear family burdens we never asked for. But we’re strong. We could rule, together . You’re smart, ferocious, and the most beautiful woman who has ever walked this earth. Help me show my father I’m more worthy of succession than any of my brothers. Italy is not Ireland, but there can still be a throne for you.” He points to me. “Born to the mob.” Then, he points to his chest. “Born to the mafia. We have a common enemy, and it’s not each other.”

The chill over my bare skin is brutal. It’s winter, wherever I am, and there’s not enough heat coming from the small vents. “I can’t help you, Luca,” I mutter.

“Yes, you can. We could end this war before it begins.”

He’s wrong. The war has already begun. It started the moment Pappa’s eyes shut, never to open again. “Where is Saoirse?” I ask, shifting my eyes back to the crest on the wall.

“Look at me.” Quick, like a cobra’s strike, Luca grabs my jaw, forcing my gaze into his. He presses his lips against mine, and I cringe as I take in a whiff of his musky scent. “Do you feel that? Your heart is beating so fast. I see the desire in your eyes. It burns in mine as well. There’s no shame in it. Fiona, be honest. What do you see when you look at me?”

Narcissist fuck, whose daddy beat him and starved him of attention. He doesn’t stand to inherit a damn thing from his father’s empire. All he wants is to be loved and honored. But it won’t be from me.

I stare into Luca’s dark eyes, hidden behind a thick layer of lashes. So beautiful…to a blind woman, perhaps. “I see a marked man.”

“What?”

“Your days are numbered, Luca. One day, I’ll dance on your grave after painting ‘coward’ on your tombstone. I promise you that.”

“Such a waste,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “Have it your way, then.” He stands and finds his shirt, pulling it over his head. “I’m leaving for home tomorrow with all my men and staff. This house will be abandoned. And you …” He shakes his head, a pitying expression on his face. “I hope you remember you could’ve had everything with me as you rot to death in here.”

Panic kicks up in my chest as he nears the door. He wouldn’t honestly leave me in here, would he? There’s no way to get out. I’ve tried. He brings all my meals. How long would it take to starve to death? How painful would that be? And what about my sister? Is she behind a locked steel door somewhere in this home as well? I picture the color in her face draining as she wilts.

“Luca!” I bellow. “Where is my sister?”

He pauses at the door. “Dead.”

The shock paralyzes my body. I gasp for air, but my lungs won’t fill. “Liar,” I manage to whisper.

Luca takes a half step, slightly turning his shoulders. He’s not quite facing me, but also not facing the wall. “She never made it off your property. She bolted into the night. We shot, she fell. She’s food for the wolves, now.”

“No,” I croak. My eyes begin to sting with hot tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Last chance,” he warns. “Come with me willingly or die here all alone.”

In a moment of weakness, I’m almost tempted. It’s a physical response to the suffering that I know awaits me. But I’m an O’Leary. So is Saoirse. She’s not gone. It can’t be. Maybe she’s playing like a cricket. Lying in the field, pretending to be dead, waiting for the perfect moment to make her move. I hope she runs far from here, back to Ireland. Back to the flower-filled field where my beautiful mother lies in peace.

I inhale deeply, accepting my fate. “Fuck you, Luca. I’ll see you at the gates of hell.”

The door opens, then slides shut with a heavy thud behind him.

Then, I’m alone.

The only clock on the wall has stopped ticking. I don’t know how long ago the battery died.

I have no idea how long I’ve been trapped in the Accardi lair, but it’s long enough for the hunger pains to be unbearable. My body screams at me. It needs nourishment, and I have nothing to give. The sink water has kept me hydrated, but it’s not enough.

I’m going to die here.

And it hurts.

I spoke to Luca like I was fearless. Fiona, princess of the mob. Eldest daughter of the great Cillian O’Leary. And yet here I am, too weak to stand, barely able to breathe. I’m in so much pain, that as I lie in the large bed with the luxury comforter, I’m embarrassed to be filled with regret. I should’ve gone with Luca. Everyone is brave in the face of a quick death.

Torture is another story.

Laying my head back down on the pillow, I pull up the cover to my chin. I pray for death to hurry along. Let it be swift. Let my feeble heart stop beating while I sleep. I only want this misery to be over.

I’ve nearly drifted off to sleep when I hear a soft beeping coming from the door. For so long it’s just been silence. No footsteps. No muffled whispers. As Luca promised, the mansion was abandoned. But now…

Beep…beep…beep. It speeds up, and I realize too late it’s not the number pad to unlock the door. That’s the warning sound of an explosive. Covering my ears, I sit up and curl into a tight ball, bracing for the pain, tears spilling from my eyes as I clamp them shut. I wished for a quick death…

Here it comes.

Mama, Pappa, Saoirse… I’m coming home, and I’ll see you soon.

There’s a loud hiss as the steel door peels open. The entryway is covered in smoke, and the smell is foul, but no bomb has gone off. Instead, a man—a little larger than Luca—walks through the haze, his gun pointed at my forehead.

A new fear washes over me as he steps under the overhead light. He’s wearing an intimidating glower. He lowers the pistol in his right hand but keeps his icy blue eyes fixed on mine.

“Who are you?” he asks in a deep gruff. “We were told the Accardi abandoned this house.”

My lips crack painfully as I try to speak. I wet them with my tongue and taste a hint of blood. “Their prisoner,” I answer.

“They left you here to die?”

I nod. “How long has it been since they left?”

“Six days, give or take.”

I guessed four. I’m more resilient than I thought. I relax from my curled-up position, stretching my legs. It’s not that I’m comfortable around this stranger, or certain that he won’t hurt me. It’s that my body is finally giving out. Six days. No food, sunlight, or sense of time.

I can’t…think…straight…

My vision goes blurry as my body slumps to the side. I must be closer to the edge than I realized because I topple to the floor, too weak for my reflexes to kick in.

“Vesper!” the man shouts. “Help.”

Another set of soft footsteps hurry down the hall.

“She fell,” he explains. “I don’t want to touch her. I think she needs a woman. They imprisoned her in a room with nothing but a bed. I can only imagine what Luca did to her.”

“Jesus,” the woman says, before kneeling beside me and brushing loose strands of hair from my face. She hooks her elbow under my head, so I’m resting on the inside of her arm instead of the hardwood floor. “You’re still just a girl.”

I keep my heavy eyelids open so I can study her face. It’s an odd dichotomy. A maternal warmth, mixed with cold malice. The same look a lioness has when she’s ready to kill for her cub.

“Fiona O’Leary,” she says.

“You know me?” I take a moment to study her clothes. She’s dressed in dark, leather pants. A matching trench coat.

“I just came from your house in New York City.”

“Where am I now?”

“Upstate. A few hours outside the city. This property is desolate. A good place to hide an armory.”

“You’re a cop,” I murmur. “Looking for Accardi weapons.”

“No, I’m not,” the woman says, shaking her head slowly. “You need medical attention. Can you stand?”

“I won’t do a damn thing until you tell me who you are.” I mean to sound intimidating, but I know in my state, I only sound pathetic. But who are these people? For all I know they could rescue me from this room, just to lock me in another.

The woman hoists me up so I’m seated, back secured against the wall. She’s a small woman, but moves me easily, with strength that doesn’t match her size.

“I’m Vesper. I’m the leader of an undercover operation. This is Linc, short for Lincoln.” She glances over her shoulder. The man ducks his head, acknowledging me. “I know about you, Fiona, because of your father.”

“You’re law enforcement? You were going to arrest him?” I’m not surprised. My father was indeed an elite criminal.

Vesper shakes her head. “No. We leave that for the police and FBI. We aren’t concerned with the interworking of crime organizations until civilians are affected. We’re here because there was a rumor…that the Accardi family and the O’Leary clan had established a partnership. That was an alliance we could not allow. That crime ring would be too powerful.”

“It was a setup. The Accardi wanted sole control of the docks. But my father staked his claim by moving us to America. The mafia offered a peaceful partnership with split territories. It’s the only reason why Pappa gave up his location. Then, they shot him and his men to death before lighting our house on fire.”

“The rain stopped the fire from spreading. We found your father among his men in your home. But I thought Cillian had two daughters.” She holds up two fingers.

“My sister was shot down while fleeing. She’s lying dead somewhere outside by the house.” My bottom lip trembles, picturing my poor baby sister cold and pale on the ground.

“No,” Linc chimes in. “Our team scoured every inch of the four acres. We found a lot of bodies. But not one female.”

My eyes widen. She’s alive?

It’s the hope I need for my heart to keep beating. Smart girl. She must’ve fallen in the brush and waited for them to leave. Playing dead, until she could escape.

“Will you help me find her?” I ask. “Are you search and rescue?”

“I can’t tell you anymore, Fiona, for your protection. We are an invisible team. No witnesses, no outsiders—”

I grab her hand. “I pledge myself to your organization. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do. I have no one else who can help me find Saoirse in America. I have no one left. Take me with you.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Vesper says, pity in her eyes.

“I do… please ,” I plead. I need a family. I’m nothing without one. Like Pappa told me about the crickets in the field—helpless alone, but in numbers, they are mighty.

I will find my sister… I will avenge my father.

She’s quiet for a moment. “Have you ever held a weapon?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Are you willing to learn?” she asks.

A chill goes down my spine. At the same time, my stomach lurches with hunger pains. Who are these people?... But what choice do I have?

“Yes,” I say. “I’m handy with a rifle. Bow and arrow, too. Pappa taught me how to hunt back home.”

Linc grunts. I turn to see his bemused expression. “We operate in obscurity. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb with a bow and arrow.” He clears his throat. “Vesper, we can’t take her. She still looks like a young girl. This is too much.”

Looking over her shoulder, she shoots him a pointed look. “And you were just a boy when I found you. Remember? Two years later…now, look at you.”

He exhales and ducks his head. “Fine. We’ve been here too long. Luca, his men, and all their equipment are gone. We need to move before we’re spotted.”

I try to rise, but my knees buckle, and I stumble. Vesper catches me, holding me in place. “Linc is right, though. You don’t have to do this. There’s still time to have a normal life. We can take you home,” she says.

“What home?” I ask in a gruff whisper. Warm tears streak down my cheeks. “It’s all gone now.”

She looks torn, but finally, she says, “Then welcome to Operation PALADIN. There’s a lot to go over when you’re feeling well. But right now, we need to go.” She wraps my arm around her shoulders and helps me take a small step. Then another. One more. It’s easy to walk with her steadying me.

Slowly, we approach the doorway, inching toward my first taste of freedom in months. Linc follows behind. “You’ll need a new name,” he says. “Fiona O’Leary died in this room. What should we call you moving forward?”

I take another step and stumble, but Vesper doesn’t let me fall.

“Call me Cricket.”