Marrying the Mob Prince

Tony

2 lines

5 shots of tequila

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Gunner moaned, lifting his dirty, tear-stained face. “Please, stop.”

He hyperventilated as I hogtied him between two other bikers. Gunner had pissed his pants after I’d dragged him into the garage with an ominous, dark brown stain. A metallic tang hung in the air, not unlike the stench in slaughterhouses. The smell of death drove men crazy.

After I slashed the throat of his buddy, Gunner turned on the waterworks. Crying. Loudly. Crimson pooled on the cement as Cloud-or was it Clyde-lay facedown in a pool of blood, drowning. Gunner’s eyes widened as the red tide touched his lip.

Once, I’d experienced the same terror.

It was nothing compared to losing my wife.

“I hate you. All of you.” I pressed the knife into his cheek, and crimson welled around the blade. “I’d happily spend the rest of my life kidnapping scumbags like you, tying you up, and gutting you. I tolerated your filth to spread over Boston, but you’re incapable of behaving like decent human beings. And I’m tired. I’m sick of pretending you don’t disgust me! You’re a dog-shit-covered flea! You’re going to tell me where my wife is, or I will make you suck your dying friend’s cock!”

He whined something, and I slammed my boot into his side. Then I ripped off his patch, threw it on the floor, and stomped it. I smashed Gunner’s nose against the concrete, settling him right beside the corpse. He screamed, which made the other guy tied to him scream. The garage echoed with their crying, and I exchanged an exasperated look with Cainan.

“Can you believe this?”

“Yeah. You started off way too strong.”

Cainan looked out of place in his khakis and a crew sweater, but he was in his element. He cocked his head.

“Some guys don’t last. You know?”

“Isn’t that the truth.” I choked Gunner’s neck, and he gasped like a landed fish. “You might as well get used to this. You’re not leaving until my wife is returned to me. Until then, you’ll know nothing but pain. Humiliation. Degradation.”

Cainan’s hand weighed my shoulder. “T, he needs air.”

“I don’t give a fuck!”

I lifted the pressure anyway. Color flooded into Gunner’s face as he took deep, shuddering breaths. Letting him breathe battled against my instincts. I hated myself for losing my wife to these bastards. I swore I’d stamp out the biker shit when I took her in for her own good, but all I did was grind her spirit to dust.

Fuck me.

I had no idea where she’d gone. As soon as I’d figured out what motel, I called Cainan. He got there faster than I did, avoiding most of the rush hour traffic, but she wasn’t in any of rooms or the parking lot.

All we found was her smashed cell phone and several unarmed stragglers. I offered them a ride to the club. Knocked them out. Brought them to an abandoned auto shop that had plenty of space and no neighbors.

I didn’t have time to waste.

My chest tightened.

Evie. Hold on, honey.

The knot in my throat pulsed.

“Tell me what happened.”

Tears streaked Gunner’s cheeks. “The deal went south. They robbed us.”

“They who? Another biker club? The Mongols?”

“This guy in a suit. Goes by K.” He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. “He took your wife.”

Him.

A light-haired man with a warm smile burned in my mind. K was an opportunist who made his living on the flesh market. I’d lost count of the women he’d tricked, conned, drugged, and stolen so he could force them into slavery.

Not her.

Not my wife.

This had to be a nightmare, but the stench of death reminded me that it wasn’t. A horrific pain wrenched my heart in half. The heavy feeling in my gut doubled. I screamed. The agony wounded me from all angles. It was too much. The guilt, hopelessness, and grief-this was the worst torture.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

It tore out my insides.

It would end me for good. There was no redemption for a man who failed his wife. I’d tried to protect her. I’d done everything in my power to stop this. Despite that, she was trafficked. And it was my fault because I’d pushed her away.

It shattered me.

I kicked him onto his back and swung the knife. I don’t know how many times I stabbed him. Only that when it was over, he was a pulpy, red mass. My last captive bleated like a terrified sheep. I raised my hand. He would die, too. They all deserved to perish for losing my talented, bright, beautiful wife.

Cainan caught my wrist. His soft look muzzled my rage. “That’s enough, Tony.”

“It’s not nearly enough.”

“This doesn’t help Evie.”

I stood on a canvas of red. Crimson splattered my arms, chest, and face. I must’ve looked insane. I backed away, shaking. I needed to kill the last one.

“Where’s your president?”

“H-hospital. Please don’t.”

As the twenty-something-year-old got to his feet, I pulled out my sidearm.

He raised his hands.

I aimed and fired. The bullet struck him between his pleading eyes. It blew out his skull, and then his body hit the ground.

I stared at the pile of bodies.

I’d never killed three men at once.

I disappeared into the office. Cainan joined me, his gaze sweeping the floor. My boots had tracked biker filth inside. I was messy with my prey.

“How do I save her?”

“Easy. You buy her back.”

I ran a jerky hand through my hair. “He’ll recognize me.”

“Not necessarily. You know how K is. Coked up half the time. It’s wonder he’s still alive. He’ll throw a party just to celebrate stealing the girls he stole from Jett. He’ll probably auction them all. Including your wife.”

I sank into a chair, pain building behind my chest. “You can get me inside.”

Cainan said nothing for a long moment.

I could’ve slashed his throat. “You’re doing this.”

“Since when do I take your orders?”

“Do it, or we’ll have a problem.”

He raised his chin, meeting my glare head-on. “You go in there, you’re one of them. You can’t kill K.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“He’s untouchable. Killing a trafficker is like murdering a prince. They’ll never stop hunting you.”

I rubbed my temples, breathing hard.

“Tony, let me do this for you. I’ll buy the girl and get out.”

“No.”

I didn’t trust him within five hundred yards of Evie.

“Then don’t fuck this up,” he snarled. “No heroics. Or you’ll both be dead.

I kept imagining my wife, whose sunny attitude toward life saw rainbows shooting out of mountains of shit. Where was she? What was K doing to her? My heart thrashed with a deranged fury, strangled by images of Evie suffering.

She needed me.

We belonged together, but I’d been too stupid to see it. She wasn’t penance. She was my redemption, and I’d acted like the drowning man, fighting off my rescue.

If I couldn’t help her…I’d always be a monster.

This was my last chance.

I had to save her.