Dario had fallen into step on the other side of her, shielding her from the others. When had he taken to doing that? She could have texted the information to Val’s phone, but Bernado Macaluso, Val’s resident hacker whiz, had cautioned them against doing just that. He could hack phones, said it was too easy.
She matched her steps to Val’s as they approached the car that would take him to the first of many of Miceli’s businesses. “Stefano says for certain, Marge is holding women somewhere in her strip club beneath her underground dungeon club. Ricco is looking with him, but he says no doubt she would let them burn before she would give up their location.”
Her voice was pitched very low so only he could hear. His gut twisted. He knew Marge was hard, but to allow innocent women to die a horrific death sickened him. The worst of it was, he could see her doing that. Not just because she didn’t want to get caught, but because she enjoyed hurting others. She would want Valentino to know he had killed those women. She would taunt him with the knowledge.
Marge was one of the pieces of Miceli’s trafficking ring, a huge part of it. She had knowledge of it, but she wouldn’t easily give it up. Val could take men apart, compartmentalize, but he couldn’t do the same to a woman. His father could, but he wasn’t built that way. He didn’t like inflicting pain on women.
Not being able to extract information from a woman was a weakness Giuseppi had tried hard to stamp out of him, but had never managed to do. Dario had covered for him time and again. Now, facing the possibility that he would have to take Marge to the interrogation room made him feel sick all over again.
“Wait for me at home, Emme,” he said suddenly, cupping her face between his hands. He looked into her blue eyes. The world was there. His world. He needed something fresh and clean to come home to. “You don’t need to see me like this.” He hated the pleading in his voice.
He bent his head and kissed her. Taking her mouth, not caring if his men waited on him. Not caring if they saw he had a weakness. He held her face between his hands and kissed those perfect lips of hers. That perfect firestorm that seemed to cleanse him from the inside out. When he lifted his head, he traced her swollen bottom lip with his thumb.
“I see the man I love, Valentino,” she whispered. “I’ll always see the man I love. Get going. The others are waiting for you. And stay safe. I mean it.” She turned her head to look at Dario. “You, too. I don’t know why, because you’re an ass who thinks he’s superior to all women, but I’ve grown fond of you, so come back safe.”
She didn’t wait for either of them to reply. She walked away, again without looking at the other three men who stood by a car, doors open. She felt their eyes on her, so she kept her head up. Valentino could break her every time. She rounded the corner and stepped into the first shadow that would take her out of the underground in the direction she needed to go.
Valentino was hitting Miceli’s smallest restaurant. It laundered more money for him than businesses ten times its size. It was very popular and stayed open nearly all night. The back room had a narrow staircase that led to a wine cellar with a variety of Italian wines in tall racks. The staircase was narrow for a reason. It allowed the security people to see anyone coming at them that shouldn’t be downstairs. The illegal gambling was extremely lucrative for Miceli because his very wealthy patrons were allowed to bet on various opportunities, which he provided through closed-circuit screens.
They could request shows and pay for them. Everything from raping women to raping children. There were fights to the death between men and between boys. Miceli provided anything his patrons wanted. Valentino wanted a list of those patrons, but he knew shutting down the ring was the most important thing he could do first.
Valentino had a secret crew in the Ferraro brothers. They would enter the gambling pit through the shadows. He didn’t want Emmanuelle anywhere near those depraved screens. She didn’t need to see helpless men and boys when they couldn’t get to them. That would break her heart and give her nightmares. It was impossible to unsee what one saw. He knew because he’d tried.
His men would go in through the front and back doors, taking over the restaurant, herding any innocents out and closing and locking doors before they proceeded with their grim task. He’d chosen the early morning hours, when the fewest people frequented the place, but the gambling hall beneath was still heavily occupied.