Twisted Hearts(41)

I twisted in his hold and drove my fist upward, ramming the heel of my hand into his nose. With a muffled groan, he released me, staggering back. He looked pissed. His nose spurting blood, he lunged at me at the same time as I aimed a high kick at his head. My foot collided with his chin, throwing it back. It smashed against the edge of a wall cabinet and his eyes went out of focus. He fell forward. My eyes went wide when he collided with me, taking me down with his much heavier body.

My head crashed against the floor. Stars burst in my vision and then all went black.





“We should talk to a few of the Underbosses with stronger Bratva Outposts and plan a simultaneous attack. They are getting too bold. We need to kill as many as possible in a single effort,” I said.

Diego nodded, scanning the map of our territory where Nino had marked the biggest Bratva strongholds. Diego had started working as an Enforcer alongside Fabiano, but because I trusted him the most from all the soldiers, he still accompanied me to dangerous missions. Despite the mess with his sister, he and I had come to a silent agreement—by pretending I wasn’t engaged to his sister. It was a cowardly thing to do and I knew I needed to get a grip, man up and finally ask Gemma to set a date for the wedding, but I had cold feet.

Diego pointed at L.A. and San Diego. “What about them?”

“No signs of Bratva yet,” I said. “They’re trying to get Las Vegas first. It’s a matter of prestige. Remo’s killed and tortured so many Bratva fuckers these last few weeks, but they keep popping up like weeds.”

My phone rang. Remo. “What’s up?”

“The Bratva attacked the Amalfi.”

It took my brain a moment to register his words. Gemma worked in the Amalfi every day. Even if I hadn’t contacted her in the last two months, I’d kept an eye on her.

“Nino and I are on our way.”

“What about Gemma?”

Diego rose from his chair, paling.

“We don’t know anything,” Remo said.

I pushed to my feet, staring at Diego. “The Bratva.” I didn’t need to say more. The Amalfi had been attacked before. In the fifties and sixties, it had been a Russian restaurant, run by the Bratva, before the Camorra had taken it from them. We ran toward my car, jumped in and I floored the gas, my heart beating in my fucking throat.

Diego clutched his phone against his ear, but no one was picking up in the restaurant.

“Call Gemma. She always has her phone with her to talk to Toni!”

He tried—nothing.

Diego gripped his hair. “If…if…fuck.”

“Nothing will happen to anyone.”

Nothing would happen to Gemma.

Diego called home, reaching his mom who was taking care of Carlotta.

I slammed on the brakes in front of the restaurant and shot out of the car. Remo’s SUV was already parked in the front. Pulling out guns, Diego and I stormed into the restaurant.

Remo whirled around, pointing his guns at us then pointed them back at the kitchen doors, approaching them slowly. Nino knelt beside a body. Diego rushed toward them.

His father lay in a pool of his blood. Bullet wounds littered his body. His eyes stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. Diego made a small choked sound. Two dead assholes lay near the bar, dead. Russians, no doubt. The waiters next to the bar were dead as well.

“Where’s Gemma?” I asked.

“We arrived shortly before you,” Nino said. “We didn’t have time to check the kitchen yet. There wasn’t a sound though.”

Which meant everyone still around was dead. Whoever had done this would be gone by now.

“Gemma and Nonna were supposed to be here,” Diego said tonelessly.

Remo motioned for us to follow and together we went toward the kitchen. Raising our guns, Remo shoved open the swing door and we all rushed inside. Like Nino had said, nobody inside the kitchen was capable of making a sound.

Diego’s nonna lay on the floor, a bullet hole in her forehead. Dread settled in my bones and my heart slammed against my ribcage. Diego pushed past me and Remo, and stormed toward his grandmother, then he looked at something to his right.

He let out a hoarse cry, his face scrunching up with despair and he dropped his gun. “No!”

He rushed forward and I followed after him. Then I saw Gemma on the floor in a pool of blood. A tall man lay half on top of her. I froze and everything seemed to stand still.

My breath lodged itself in my throat. My fingers around my gun loosened.

Remo grasped my shoulder, looking at me. “Get a grip!”

I gripped the handle of my gun, even if I hardly felt my fingers or any other part of my body.

Diego fell to his knees beside Gemma. “No,” he roared then softer, “No, God, please.” I staggered toward him and helped him shove the Bratva asshole off Gemma. At least, she was still dressed. She wasn’t raped before they killed her. That was the only consolation. She didn’t have to suffer.

My eyes prickled and I swallowed. The sensation was foreign, one I hadn’t felt since I was a little boy—a heavy pressure in the back of my throat and in my chest. Diego pressed his forehead to Gemma’s stomach and began to cry.

With a shaking hand, I touched his back. Remo appeared beside us.

I looked up at him and for some reason he was blurry. I couldn’t stand the look on his face and so I looked back to Gemma. Fuck. The last words I’d said to her flitted through my head, the horrible things I’d told her, how badly I’d treated her. As if she was nothing but a sex toy for me, nothing important when she was the only girl who’d ever been a friend, the only girl I’d ever wanted for more than sex. Yet, I hadn’t shown her. I had clung to my freedom, because the rush of those meaningless flings and party nights had brightened the darkness that so often filled my insides. It hadn’t worked, not for long. Like a flash that broke through the night for only an instant, the thrill of my flings hadn’t banished that darkness for long.

I bent over Gemma’s head, cupping her bloody cheek and kissed the tip of her nose. She was even still warm. She couldn’t have been dead for long and that realization made this even harder. If we’d been quicker, maybe we could have saved her. Regret over the past is wasted time—that was Nino’s credo. The fuck did he know?

Stroking her blood-covered face, I leaned down to her ear. “I was an asshole. I’m so fucking sorry, Gem, so fucking sorry. I’ll miss you so fucking much, every annoying little thing. You are the only girl I ever truly wanted, and I fucked it up.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. My fingers traced her throat, so soft. So fucking gorgeous even in death. I’d thought I’d have time, that we’d have time to be together, had taken it for granted. The speared watch on my forearm taunted me as I stroked Gemma’s skin. Outsmarting time, what a stupid thing to think.

A gentle pulse throbbed against my fingertips. I jerked my head up, staring at Gemma.

“What is it?” Remo asked immediately. Diego lifted his tear-stained face.

I dug my fingertips into her throat. A pulse. A fucking pulse. For a moment, I didn’t dare believe it. “Remo,” I got out. He knelt beside me and shoved my hand aside, then he pressed his fingers against her pulse point. “Nino!” he roared.

“What… what’s going on?” Diego whispered.

Nino came in then rushed over to us and bent over Gemma, feeling her pulse. “She’s alive.”

Diego sucked in a sharp breath.

Relief washed over me.

Remo moved to the Bratva asshole. “He too.” He grinned twistedly.

“He’s mine,” I said. Once Gemma was taken care of, I’d turn the last few hours of that asshole’s life into a nightmare.

Remo inclined his head.

Nino felt Gemma’s head then moved on to her ribs.

“What are you doing?” Diego asked, eyeing my brother’s hands on Gemma’s belly.

Nino cocked an eyebrow. “Making sure she stays alive. Back off.”

Diego nodded and crawled to Gemma’s head, stroking her hair. “Gemma, can you hear me?”

“Don’t move her yet,” Nino said.

I took Gemma’s hand, linking our fingers. They twitched. Then her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes, fixing me with those stunning olive irises. Confusion showed on her face. She glanced from me to Diego who looked a teary mess.

She frowned. “Diego, what’s—” Realization flashed in her eyes. “Nonna?” Her voice was small, bringing out my protective side. There were so many things I wanted to tell her.

Diego closed his eyes and gave a small shake of his head. Tears gathered in Gemma’s eyes. “Where’s Dad?”

Diego didn’t react, but got up and turned his back to us, covering his face with his hands. Gemma looked at me, her eyes two pools of misery. “Savio?”

I squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Gem.”

She shook her head in denial, then winced, her eyes going out of focus for a moment. She tried to push up into a sitting position, but I grabbed her shoulders, stopping her. “Careful. We don’t know how bad your injuries are.”

Tears slid out of her eyes, and the sight of them trailing down her cheeks cut me deeply. I promised myself to never be responsible for them again.

“Let me take a look at your head,” Nino said. Slowly he and I brought Gemma into a sitting position. I steadied her with an arm around her shoulders, feeling her shake.