Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

“Don’t click on it,” Trevor said behind me. “Forward it to me and I’ll make sure it’s legit.”

I shook off my tunnel vision, but even for two seconds, it was like my brain had ceased functioning and couldn’t respond to a simple command. I sent the link to Trevor, then turned to my men, who were holding Nico down.

“Let him go.”

His countenance was ravaged, eyes red, and tears tracked down his face. But he seemed to have pulled himself together because he silently joined me behind Trevor. He understood there was time for blame later. In-fighting would get us no closer to finding Bianca.

I was rusty when it came to tech, but I recognized the safeguards Trevor was taking. “I’m quarantining it through a secure browser.” The wait felt like an agonizing drive through Manhattan traffic. Finally, he asked, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Nico and I said.

The screen came on and my world descended into hell.

A suppressed sob sounded beside me.

Bianca was staring straight at the camera. An emotion-filled hitch caught in my throat. My wife was trying to be brave. She was trying to work her wrists free from the cuffs attached to the ladder. Then she would slip and part of her head would submerge in water. Those shoes. She was stepping on a ladder rung. It was giving her a few inches above the water.

“Can she get out of it?” Nico asked.

“It appears to be double-latched,” Trevor responded. “So no.”

Someone was crying behind us. Divina.

I prowled toward her and grabbed her shoulders. “Talk.”

“Hey, get your hands off my wife!” Tommy came between us and shoved me aside. “It’s not her fault.” If circumstances were different, he would have probably punched me.

I jabbed a finger at the scene playing out on the screen. “Bianca took her place in the ambulance. If she’d known something then, she should have spoken up!” My voice rose to a roar.

“I didn’t have time,” Divina sobbed. “I just found out this afternoon, and I hadn’t connected all the dots.”

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“Griselda was embezzling the money that was funneled through the club. I think they killed the accountant because he was being hounded by Gian about the shortage.”

“Griselda? They? Did she stage this? She was working with Miller?”

“I didn’t know about Miller then, but Gian was confronting her. Gian told me that someone from the club was helping her, but he was keeping that to himself.”

The puzzle was falling into place, but I was having trouble wrapping my mind around it. Griselda and Miller?

“That was why I didn’t get into the ambulance. I didn’t know who to trust except Tommy. I didn’t know Bianca was going to get in.”

“You should have said something!” I shouted.

“That’s enough,” Arnie said. “She should have, but she didn’t know this”—he tipped his chin at the screen—“was going to happen.”

“What else?”

“That’s all I know.”

“Goddammit!” I lost it and kicked a box that was on the floor. Flashes of all the people I killed ran on a reel through my head. They deserved to die. But if I had known Bianca was going to pay the price for those jobs, I would have remained the dumbest foot soldier in the mob. I turned myself into the deadliest hit man, learned all the skills so I could protect Bianca, thinking her father had enemies. But it was my past that became a danger to her.

Rage like I’d never felt before reverberated deep inside me. Anyone who thought to calm me down was going to get punched in the face.

“Wait, I know where that is.” It was Sloane who spoke up.

I whipped around and saw her standing behind Trevor.

“Where?” Nico asked.

“That’s twenty minutes from here. It’s owned by the Albanians. It’s one of their interrogation houses. I cleaned it a couple of months ago.” Sloane screwed up her face in disgust. “Last time I’m doing it for sure. They stiffed me on payment.”

“Tell us where it is.”

“It’s better if I show you.”

My jaw clenched.

“You don’t have time,” Sloane said. She pointed at the screen. “She doesn’t have time.”

“Fuckin’ aware. You better be damned sure, Sloane.”

She glanced at the screen and then back at me.

“I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go get my wife.” I turned to Nico, but before I could say anything, he said, “I’m coming with you.”

“I’m not wasting my time saying no. You drive. I ride shotgun. Sloane and Trevor behind me. Tommy, follow our vehicle, but do not engage until I say so.”

I didn’t wait for anyone to contradict me and headed for the exit. My Expedition with its own veritable armory was parked outside. I tossed the keys to Nico. It was only when we were on the road and our plan was set that I clicked on the link again.

The video came up. Tremors shook my body and I whispered hoarsely, “Sunlight.”

The water had risen and she kept slipping and sputtering.

“How is she?” Nico asked from beside me.

“She’s hanging in there. Your sister is a fighter.”

“She is.”

I wished I had a pill that would numb me through all emotions so I could remain clear-headed to execute this task. I was too close to this, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else to get it done.

“Miller is Kaz Doku’s bastard son,” Trevor said behind us.

Fuck. My first kill. The Albanian mob boss that cemented my place in the Rossi crime family as their assassin-for-hire. The Rossis awarded me that Harlem kingdom. It would explain why Miller went after it. Most of the puzzle had fallen into place.

“He’s planned it for a while.”

“He was using his mother’s last name. That was why we couldn’t link him immediately to Doku. From what I can tell, he landed in Iowa after his father’s death and assumed the identity of an army veteran named Crowe Miller.

“The Albanians run a stolen identity ring. They keep track of returning veterans who join support groups for PTSD.” Trevor’s voice grew progressively sharper, angrier, but I could see where he was going with this. “Veterans who’ve been abandoned by family and friends because they can’t cope. So when they go missing, nobody questions it.”

“Someone has access to government databases and changed the fingerprints and pictures?” Nico asked.

“Yeah, so they have connections to the FBI’s fingerprinting system,” Trevor said. “The Office of Personnel Management holds all information of government employees. They might have changed current details like photos. That is why I dug up the archives.”

“That’s fucked up,” Sloane said.

Nothing surprised me anymore. Everyone had a price. And the Albanians were ruthless. They targeted veterans because they would have enough combat experience to infiltrate an organization’s security regardless of what background check was done. When Miller joined, it was for the security of the club.

As I continued to keep my eyes on Bianca, details about Miller’s secret life emerged. Did I think my life as an assassin wouldn’t catch up with me? There was never any association between my kill list and myself except that very first job. Raffa was the last one alive who knew about it.

“Right here.” Sloane pointed at the street coming up.

The Expedition turned into a narrow road. That was when Bianca slipped again and went underwater. “How many more minutes? Bianca is almost outta time!”

Panic warred against my ability to stay coherent. She was bobbing under water but coming up just enough to suck in air.

It was a four-lane road that narrowed into two lanes until houses with acres of land between them surrounded us.

“We’re coming up on it, right?” Nico said.

“Yes. Next property after the crossing, but you might want to set up on the street over,” Sloane said.

“I wish I had my drone and shit,” Trevor said.

Nico parked. He grabbed his phone and called someone.

“I have two sniper rifles with infrared scopes,” I said. “A couple of pistols.”

“I can work with that,” Trevor said.

I turned to Sloane. “You don’t have to come.”

“Tell me what you need.”

I was used to working alone, but I was learning to trust the people in my family. And Sloane was family. I handed her my phone and a gun. “Keep me sane. Tell me how many minutes I have.”

Nico was still talking on his, but I gestured we were moving out. Tommy and his crew were waiting at the cross street for my signal to go in.

The plan was for Trevor and me to take out the night guards.

The house was in front of a swath of undeveloped land, which provided perfect concealment for our approach. We trekked the short distance to the spot parallel to the front of our target house. I crouched and then shifted to crawl on my belly and studied the structure with night-vision goggles. According to Sloane, the backyard where the pool was located had ten-foot-high concrete fencing and would need someone on the inside to open the metal gate.

When the house was occupied, the Albanians frequently spent time in the living room or the kitchen. Both areas were at the front of the house.

“Nico is asking where you want him,” Trevor asked.

“The rear of the property by the gate. We’ll let him in. We got the front and sides covered.”

“I’ve got two guards in sight,” he said. “Someone is in the living room.”

“We take them out simultaneously. Stat on Bianca?” I asked Sloane.

“You’re good. You’re going to make it… Just take the shot in the next two minutes.”

I froze and slowly turned to her. “Why?”

“Head in the game, Sandro. She’s fine.”

“I got the guy on the right,” Trevor said.

I cracked my neck before lining up my sights on the rifle. The two guards were not moving and just sitting on the steps chatting and smoking.

“On three,” I told him. “When I say one, shoot.”

“Glad you clarified that.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

The two men flew backward.

I spied Tommy’s crew moving in. We dropped the rifles and sprang to our feet to join them.

A man stepped out of the house, but one of our soldiers took him down.

Trevor and I rushed inside, with Tommy and his crew following behind us.

“Sloane!”

“I’m here.”

“Stay behind me.”

Where the hell was that motherfucker? Footsteps stampeded down the stairs, but I left my crew to handle them.

“Turn right,” Sloane shouted.

With my gun raised and leading the way, we moved through the maze of the house.

Just when we passed a crisscrossing hallway, a blast sounded behind me.

“Shit,” Sloane cried.

I whipped around to look at her and spotted a man on the floor cursing her.

Dom.

Fucking fuck.

“You fucking shot me,” Dom groaned.

“You surprised me!” she screamed.

I tipped my chin at Trevor. “Check on him.” And told Sloane and a couple of soldiers behind me, “Let’s go.”

We passed the kitchen and could see the pool.

My wife’s head was submerged.

Motionless. Her hair floated in a mass around her.

“Bianca!” I roared and tore through the kitchen exit. A force knocked me to the side, but my forward momentum sent me into the water.

The lining of the pool was dark. I could still see bullets streak past me. A dark cloud rose and in the back of my mind I knew I was hit.

But I didn’t feel any pain.

My life had always been preordained.

I did not save Bianca from the pool when she was five years old, only to have her die in one eighteen years later.

Nothing, not even if they riddled me with bullets, would stop me from saving her.

I reached her motionless body and lifted her up just in time to see Nico sliding to his knees and working on the cuffs securing Bianca’s wrists.

“We got Miller. He’s alive, but I shot him. He was waiting for you.”

Shudders wracked my body and I was slightly lightheaded.

“You’re shot!” Sloane appeared beside us.

“Bianca first.”

The second the cuffs fell away, I heaved her out of the pool. Nico grabbed under her armpits and dragged her to the ground.

I hoisted myself out of the water and shoved Nico aside, and started mouth-to-mouth.

I blew once.

Twice.

Three times.

Bianca remained motionless.

Bianca

I was getting tired.

Exhausted.

My shoes kept slipping, and I continued to swallow more water. My throat had never felt more raw.

I couldn’t keep my eyes on the camera anymore. Sandro was watching. I didn’t know how he could save me this time. But no matter what happened, I wanted him to know that I fought hard to have the life I wanted with him. That I didn’t simply give up. I fought until it wasn’t humanly possible anymore.

It appeared our story would begin and end with the pool, only this time I couldn’t hang on long enough for him to save me.

I’m sorry, Sandro.

I tried.

I really tried.

I love you.

And I’ll love you until my last breath.

A burning sensation pierced my chest, and I panicked. I kicked and I took in more water, but relief was beyond my reach. Excruciating pain crushed me and then suddenly, there was peace. The tranquility of calm water surrounded me.

I am at the bottom of the pool. Frankie Rossi pushed me. He was an asshole, so I punched him between his legs the way Nico taught me.

A big splash fills the pool with light and then strong arms scoop me under my arms.

It’s Sandro!

He’s carrying me up and up!

He’s my superhero.

Well, Dad too. And my brothers.

He lays me down beside the pool, but wait, who is that woman? It’s not me.

Why is Sandro crying?

Why is Nico crying?

Bianca!

You wake up, wife!

Don’t you dare die on me.

Wife?

My chest expands and I can’t breathe. I start to choke. I swallow my tongue.

I’m yanked to a sitting position and vomit and it won’t stop.

Strong arms hug me against a hard chest, and I can’t breathe again. I push him away. The arms loosen and I look up into the fierce gaze of my beloved husband.

Sandro?

“Sandro?” I croaked, my voice scratchy, throat burning. His eyes were red, face pale, and his mouth was stretched into a thin line before he gave me the slightest kiss.

Then, gingerly, he scooped me up. He staggered forward.

That was when I saw Sloane and Nico.

Sloane reached out. “Sandro…”

“I got her.”

“I can carry her,” Nico insisted.

“I. Got. Her,” Sandro gritted.

My mind swirled in a daze, trying to rewind what happened as Sandro carried me into a house. I was in a pool. How did I get into a pool? Then events came crashing back. Swallowing water. Trying to keep my head above water. My shoes. I was thankful for the platforms. But how…Miller! That fucking son of a bitch! He and his men ambushed the ambulance. They shot the EMT. Grabbed Griselda and me.

Griselda!

“Where’s Griselda?” I whispered. My throat was so raw, it hurt to speak. No one answered. Sandro continued moving. “Sandro,” I pushed out. “Where’s Griselda?”

Still, I received no response. Growing alarm spiked inside me. Men seemed to converge around us in a protective formation, but I heard a man’s wailing somewhere.

That was when I saw Tommy.

I squirmed in Sandro’s arms. I spotted Tommy kneeling over a body. His hand was at the back of his head and his body was shuddering. “Oh my God. Is she dead?”

“Don’t think about that right now.” Sandro’s voice was strained. Was it my imagination, or did he stumble? Nico was hovering, and I could feel the rumble of a growl in my husband’s chest. My thoughts spiraled. Did they have to trade me for Griselda? I couldn’t remember much other than Miller saying that Sandro was going to pay.

My whole concept of time and space was whacked. We moved from room to room but finally made it to the outside.

“How is she?!”

Dad.

My heart pounded. Apprehension seized me. Would Dad take me from Sandro because he thought this was all his fault?

“She’s okay,” Sloane said.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

Sandro stopped walking and Dad’s face came into view. “Bianca…”

“I’m really fine, Dad.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” I responded.

But that was when I noticed he was addressing Sandro.

“I’m fine,” Sandro clipped.

“No, you’re not,” Sloane said.

“Shut up, Sloane,” Sandro hissed, but the strain in his voice grew more pronounced. Things started making sense: His uncharacteristic quietness despite the relief that I was safe. The lack of answers to my questions. The single-mindedness of getting me out of that house became his singular purpose.

I scrutinized my husband’s face. He was almost white beneath his tan. Sweat trickled from the side of his face despite the chilled air. It wasn’t from the water of the pool.

“Sandro,” I whispered.

He swung me into an SUV, relinquishing his hold on me. And that was when I saw it. The track of blood that followed him.

“You’re hurt!” I shrieked, unmindful of the burning in my throat. That was the reason he wasn’t all over me. He had channeled all his remaining energy into getting me safe.

“Yes, and he’s a stubborn fucker,” Sloane said. “Now, will you let me look at you?”

“Not now, Sloane. I need to get Bianca to the hospital.”

“You know what, you’ll be the one they’ll be admitting if I don’t stop the bleeding,” she retorted.

I was so thankful for Sloane doing the talking because all I could mutter was, “Do it, Sloane.”

I glared at Sandro to make my point.

He returned my glare for a beat, still breathing heavily from his exertions in his weakened condition. “You’re going to the hospital.”

Because I was tired of speaking, I clutched my throat to make my point and then twirled my finger for him to turn around and face Sloane to make a further point.

Sandro looked like he wanted to argue but did as he was told.

Stubborn, overprotective man.

The door on my other side opened, then Dad got in. “Are you really okay?”

I smiled at him, and clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze, then croaked, “Help him.”

Dad’s mouth tightened. I knew he wanted to grab me and run, but he also knew I wouldn’t forgive him if he did.

Sandro and I were in this together.

In sickness and in health.

And despite how we said our vows, we were upholding them now when they mattered.