Hexed (Never After #6)

43. Venesa

FORTY-THREE

VENESA

I never knew Frankie Bianchi existed, but I know I want him dead the moment I see him.

He looks just like my aunt Antonella, and I’ve always hated her.

She was the Wicked Witch to my Dorothy, the evil stepmother to my Cinderella. She truly embodied everything that I despised about spoiled, rich, entitled people, and frankly, I blame her for the way her daughter turned out. I see a lot of her in Aria, and now that the puzzle pieces of my life are all coming together instead of having someone there obstructing the view, it makes perfect sense why I’ve never truly felt like part of the Kingston Family.

It’s because they never let me be.

We’re in an actual meat locker, and I’m quickly realizing that moving through hanging body parts of different animals is not my idea of a good time. There are even pigs’ heads lined up against the wall.

I’m not normally one who gets the ick easily, but being in here definitely does it for me.

Scotty stayed outside with the car. He’s not a made man, so Enzo said he wasn’t allowed to come inside, but he did let Gio tag along, and Bastien—mainly because I pushed for him to be in here—and the two of them waltz in silently behind us like bodyguards.

I guess, in a way, they are.

In the middle of the room, Frankie’s strung up just like the animals that surround us.

The only difference is he’s still alive.

A shiver races through me because it’s cold in here, and Enzo notices immediately, undoing his suit jacket and placing it over my shoulders.

I’ve never been in a relationship before, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure that’s what we are now, but I like how he cares for me in a way nobody else ever has.

I stand back to let Enzo work, gripping the lapels of his jacket and bringing them up to my nose so I can be surrounded by his scent. My stomach flutters, a cozy feeling lighting me up from the inside out.

Enzo doesn’t speak, and neither does anyone else. Between the silence and the cold of the room, the tension is palpable, a foreboding tingle firing like synapses against my skin. Enzo sighs heavily, tilting his head and watching the way Frankie hangs limply by his wrists, tied together by a chain and hooked to the ceiling. Blood drips from cuts on his face onto the linoleum floor, down a drain that’s directly beneath him.

That’s smart. Why didn’t I ever think of doing that?

I look behind me at Bastien and raise my brows as if to say, Can you believe this room? and notice how tensely he’s holding his body.

Bastien loves his torture. I bet it’s painful for him that he’s forced to be a spectator and isn’t able to take part.

Enzo rolls up one sleeve of the black button-down beneath his suit vest, slowly revealing sinewy forearms and tattooed muscle. First the left and then the right, taking his time with each. Like there’s no need to rush. And I guess there isn’t.

It’s not like Frankie’s going anywhere.

It’s almost erotic watching him prepare himself for this, and I squeeze my thighs together to stem the ache. Now that I know what it’s like to have him inside me, it’s like my body is on overdrive, telling me I need to stop being such a prude and allow him to make up for lost time.

Orgasms and torture. They really go hand in hand.

Also, kissing him is…different from what I imagined kissing would be, and I don’t know if it’s because it’s kissing with him or if I’ve been missing out this whole time.

Probably a bit of both.

There are a few of what look like large orange paint buckets lined up against the wall next to Enzo and a sink that’s just beyond that, and he walks to the buckets and picks one up. It looks heavy, and when he gets closer, I realize it’s filled with ice and water.

What is he gonna do with that?

I don’t have to wait long for my answer because he takes the bucket and throws the water on Frankie, who jolts out of his woozy state with a start and a sharp yell.

“Wake up, sweetheart.” Enzo’s voice is low and controlled.

It’s the same type of tone he gets when he’s fucking me, but lacking the warmth. Doesn’t matter—I find it turns me on terribly anyway.

He drops the bucket next to him and stands directly in front of Frankie, his arms crossed. I can only see Enzo’s back from here, but I wish I could walk up behind him and press a kiss to his shoulders.

Frankie groans, his head lolling to the side a bit before he shakes himself out of the stupor.

“The more you pass out, the longer this will take.” Enzo smacks his cheek lightly with his hand. A double tap, tap, but it’s enough to make Frankie open his eyes more.

Sighing, Enzo cracks his neck and turns to me. “Your turn.”

My brows lift, and I look behind me before pointing to myself. “Me?”

Enzo grins and nods, gesturing to the long metal table he was just at, and that’s when I realize what’s on top of it. Before now, I had just been focused on Frankie and trying to ignore the dead animals and the smell of blood and death lingering in the air.

Do they actually kill the animals down here? Gross, if yes.

“I thought you’d want to play,” Enzo says.

I walk over to the table, realizing there are different things here I could actually play with. My fingers dust over the needles and syringes, then to vials labeled and filled with powders and liquids.

“How did you get all this here?” I ask, glancing back at him.

“I own this city, baby. If I want it, I get it.” He reaches across his chest and grabs his gun from the holster, holding it sideways and flipping it back and forth like he’s inspecting it. “Plus, Gio’s resourceful.”

My heart warms at the touching gesture. “And you did all this…for me?”

He glances up from his weapon and smiles widely. “I’d do anything for you.”

Looking back at the table, I pick up a white powder labeled dextroamphetamine and tilt my head. “You want me to wake him up?”

“It’d be helpful,” he replies.

I take my time with the powder, mixing it in with a bit of water before filling the syringe and spinning around to grin at Enzo. “This is really thoughtful of you, you know? I would have been fine just watching.”

I walk over to Frankie, sinking my teeth into my lower lip while I stare at him.

God , he looks just like my aunt Ella. Fury marinates in my bones.

I jab the needle harshly into his thigh and press the syringe, watching the amphetamine go into his system. I didn’t weigh it out, but I know from eyeballing it that it should be enough to get him going: heart racing, feeling euphoria, and my favorite—the chatty-Kathy syndrome.

It might also backfire and cause him to panic since he’s hanging from a ceiling with blood dripping from his wrists. It looks like his right shoulder might be dislocated, and there’s definitely something wrong with his foot based on the angle it’s bent.

He jolts awake with a start, inhaling a heavy gasp, his eyes flinging around the room.

Recognition flares in his irises, his body flailing even though the movement is only hurting him.

I spin around and beam at Enzo, and his eyes soften. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, the gun in his hand resting on top of his right bicep.

“Frankie, you know why you’re here?” he asks.

Frankie grunts but doesn’t respond. He stops trying to fight his chains, though.

“Do you know who I am, Frankie?” Enzo asks again.

A shiver runs down my spine.

Frankie licks his cracked lips. “Yes.”

Enzo nods. “Good. Then you know it’s in your best interest to be one hundred percent real with me right now, correct?”

Again, Frankie creaks out a faint “yes.”

He isn’t arguing, which is a little disappointing because I wanted to see Enzo in his full glory, but it’s great he isn’t being difficult, especially because it seems like Enzo thinks Frankie is going to be the missing link to everything.

A shot of anxiety rushes through me.

“Tell me how you’re related to Aria Kingston, and don’t lie to me, Frankie, because that’s only gonna piss me off.”

Frankie grits his teeth, his jaw stiffening, and I can see the vulnerability shining through before he even says anything.

“Hey.” Enzo snaps his fingers in Frankie’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

Frankie rasps, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just let me die with a little dignity.”

Enzo tilts his head, the hand holding his gun reaching up and scratching at his temple. “You tell me what I need to know without argument, and I’ll let you die with honor,” he confirms. “I can respect that.”

Frankie sniffs, droplets of blood dripping onto the floor from his swollen and broken nose. “I’m Aria’s uncle.”

I truly didn’t know she had a living uncle, and it just drives that knife deeper into my chest—yet another thing proving I never really was part of the family at all.

“And tell me, Frankie, are you close with your niece?” Enzo asks.

Frankie shakes his head and spits out a clot of blood. “No.”

“How about her father?”

There’s a tense silence, and Frankie’s jaw twitches. “Yeah, okay? I’ve been doing business with Trent for going on two decades now. He’s the one who sent me out here in the first place.”

I tilt my head, watching him, letting the betrayal of my uncle stream through me like static, filling every fissure in my heart that he caused. I thought we worked together, and now I know we never did—I was always just a puppet on invisible marionette strings.

The anticipation in the air heightens. “And what business do you have with Trent Kingston lately?” Enzo continues.

Frankie lifts his head and looks at Enzo, spitting more blood from his mouth. “The same business I have with your father.”

Enzo physically stumbles back but recovers quickly.

Shock filters through my system, and I step forward, unable to bite my tongue. “Are you telling me Trent and Carlos Marino are working together?”

Frankie turns his focus on me, recognition flaring in their depths. “You’re Venesa.”

His eyes volley from me to Enzo in confusion. A jolt of panic hits me dead in the chest, and I move quickly, walking to Frankie and bringing my hand back, then connecting with his face to keep him from saying something he might regret—or more likely something I’d have to make him regret.

Enzo laughs like he’s happy I stepped in and bitch-slapped his hostage.

I lean in close to Frankie and murmur, “I’d watch your mouth if you know what’s good for you. Enzo might be scary, but I promise I can be worse.”

Frankie swallows, but I know he got the message.

I hope.

Enzo stares at me in awe as I spin around and move away. “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

I grin and wink at him, trying to hide the tremble in my hands. “Focus, Lover Boy.”

He looks back at Frankie. “I’m tired of this game. I have a woman to keep happy, and every second I spend here with you is a second longer I’m not alone with her, so tell me what I need to know.”

Frankie shifts, the chain clanking, and he grimaces. “Your dad came to me a few years back, worried…panicked, even. Like he was losing his mind.”

Enzo’s chin lifts, the barrel of his gun tapping against his thigh.

“There were whispers in the ranks, he thought,” Frankie continues. “He needed someone who was connected enough that he could trust but not anyone in his circles.”

“And that was you,” Enzo confirms.

“Yeah, that was me.”

“And?”

“Your dad, he’s…you know he’s not right in the head anymore, don’t you?”

Enzo’s jaw clenches. “You let me worry about what I know.”

“He’s crazy, man. Paranoid. Thinks everyone’s out to get him. He told me he needed to make connections. Wanted to know more about my sister’s husband, and I’m just ecstatic because I figure, if I can be useful, maybe he’ll remember it when it comes time for the books to open, you know? So I hooked him up with Trent. Told him my brother-in-law was a powerful man in the South. Had secret weapons.” His eyes flick to mine. “Things could get taken care of easily without ever tracing back to Carlos.”

A sick sense starts to crawl its way through my middle, anxiety pumping through my blood.

“What things?” Enzo presses.

“Things like being able to do whatever you needed—kill anyone you wished—without all the bullshit tape and blowback. Things that won’t get traced to you.”

Enzo moves forward and pistol-whips him across the face.

Frankie lets out a curse, blood pouring from a large gash on his cheek caused from the sight on the gun. “Fuck, man, I’m telling you!”

“Quit being cryptic and spit it the fuck out, or I swear to God I’ll make sure you rot with no honor,” Enzo spits.

Frankie inhales a quick breath and then looks Enzo in the eyes. “Your dad is the one who tried to kill you, and he used Trent Kingston to do it.”