Ruthless Vow (Vegas Vicious #2)

11. Nicole

11

Nicole

Cruelty is nothing new to me. I am Bruno Moretti’s daughter, after all.

But Leo walking out after giving me the most intense sexual experience of my life is a new level of cruel. I tell myself he planned it that way. That he used my desire as a weapon.

Then I think of the look on his face and I can’t make myself believe it.

Maybe I’m the one who’s cruel, trying to trick myself into believing I saw something in Leo’s expression, something more than he meant for me to see. Maybe I’m just a fool.

I’m sitting in lotus pose on the floor, in the dark, trying to meditate and keep my mind clear of any anxiety or distress, when I hear the door open, and the lights flick on. Slowly, my eyes open and adjust painfully to the light as my heartbeat kicks up a notch.

I hope to see Leo, but can’t say I’m surprised that it isn’t him.

It’s Vito.

He brings in a stack of clothing and toiletries and sets them on the chair.

Then he stares down at me and rubs the back of his neck.

“I, uh, thought you might be bored. So I got you this.” He points to the pile and I realize there’s a book of crossword puzzles on top, along with a pen. “I like doing them. You can learn stuff, you know?”

“Thank you,” I say, my throat suddenly thick with genuine gratitude.

He nods and leaves.

The next day, I’m dressed in an ivory sweatshirt and sweatpants, taken from the stack of clothes Vito brought me, sitting on the floor with my back pressed to the wall, doing a crossword puzzle, when the door opens.

My heart gives a little kick before I see that, again, it isn’t Leo. It’s Luca.

“Nicole,” he says. “How’s it going, gorgeous?”

“It’s going,” I reply, wary.

My guard won’t ever be down with Luca, no matter how friendly his tone. I ignore the smile on his face, since I know it’s only surface deep.

He was on the yacht. He was one of the people I drugged. He helped capture me in the graveyard. He follows orders from Leo, no matter what the order might be.

I will go ahead and assume he hates my fucking guts.

For all I know, he’s here to torture me. Or kill me. Or both.

Could Leo order my death after what we shared?

No. There was no sharing involved.

He touched me in ways I’ve never been touched. Rough. Confident. Like my body was his to do with as he pleased. He made me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

But he shared nothing of himself.

Were the things he did to me, the glorious, dirty things he did to me just one more way to break me down?

The possibility makes my stomach churn.

Then I think of the hard press of his cock against me, and I know that I turned him on. I think of that unguarded second after it was over, when he lay me down, when he whispered, “Good girl,” the emotion in his voice. In that unguarded instant, there was something there. Wasn’t there?

I don’t get up. I stay right where I am. I don’t ask questions. I simply wait.

Luca grabs the armchair, drags it over to where I am, and takes a seat on it.

I look up at him from my cross-legged position on the floor.

“Got to say, you surprised me,” Luca says. “Never would have guessed you to be a snake in the grass.”

I say nothing.

“I’m good at figuring people out, too,” he continues. “So it’s, like, severely pissed me off that I didn’t see the signs. That’s kind of my job, you know, to get a read on people. So I have a theory when it comes to you. Either you are just that fucking good at being a coldblooded spy for whoever the fuck you’re working with. Or you are so over your head in all of this that you’re drowning right in front of me right now.” He tips his head and waits. When I offer no reply, he says, “Got anything to say to that?”

“No comment.”

His lips quirk at that but his eyes are cold. “Figured.”

“Did you come here today for a friendly chat, Luca, or do you have anything important to say to me? Because quite honestly? I’m not feeling very talkative at the moment.”

I don’t know how many days have passed since I was brought here. No windows. No watch. But judging by the number of times I’ve slept, the number of meal trays I’ve been brought, I’m guessing three days. Or maybe four?

Leo hasn’t been back since he left me lying naked on the bed. How many days ago was that?

Luca shakes his head. “Cold as ice. Goddamn. You don’t even look scared.”

“Should I be scared? Are you here to hurt me?” I don’t think he is. I’m fairly certain that Leo wants to deal with me personally.

“No comment,” he counters. “Okay, I’ll get right to it. I have two questions for you.”

“Questions Leo wants the answers to.”

“No. Questions I want the answers to.”

I wait. I seem calm in every way except my racing heart. Part of me wants to start begging Luca for his help. We’ve gotten along, no conflict, for two years. I know he’s a stone-cold killer, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t without compassion. Again, I wish I were the flirty type, the kind of woman who could twist a man around her finger and get him to do her bidding with a coy look or a come-hither smile.

Hell. Even if I were, nothing about playing the part of damsel in distress appeals to me.

Luca studies me for a few moments in silence, peering at me as if he can figure out an ancient mystery. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”

Ah, the age-old question. I wonder if any of this would be different if I had pulled the trigger. Of course not. The rest of Leo’s family would have hunted me down and immediately torn me apart like hyenas. No question about it.

My ending would be the same either way. This version of the story has simply given me more time for self-reflection.

“I don’t know,” I say.

It’s not a satisfying answer for either of us. And it isn’t the truth. I didn’t shoot him because all along there has been a part of me that has doubted my aunt’s assertion that he planted the bomb that killed my father. As Leo pointed out, he prefers to do his killing in a way that gets his hands dirty. He likes things up close and personal. A bomb is just not his style.

And because I couldn’t make myself kill him in front of the people who love him.

And because I don’t want Leo dead. The thought of killing him, of watching him die, of him being dead, gone from this world…

I swallow and look away from Luca’s too perceptive stare.

“Follow up to that, gorgeous. Why did you drug the rest of us peons?”

I think about this for a moment, how best to put it concisely. “If I hadn’t, it would have been a bloodbath. More would have died.”

“So what?”

“I didn’t want that.”

“Just Leo, then. Because you think he killed your father.”

“Just Leo.”

“Except you didn’t kill him,” Luca points out, his tone contemplative.

“No comment,” I say.

He gets up from the chair and leaves the room. I get to my feet and sit on the side of the bed, waiting for a count of twenty before he returns. To my shock, he carries in a TV. Without another word, he sets it on the chest of drawers and hooks it up.

“Leo’s orders,” he says when he catches me staring. “He said he didn’t want you losing your mind from boredom. Said he wants your mind intact until he gets his answers.”

Well, that’s comforting.

He leaves the room again, and this time when he returns, he carries a stack of murder mysteries. He sets them down beside the TV.

“I know you like these,” he says. “I figured you could read when you’re not watching TV.”

“Have you read any of them?” I ask.

He grins. “All of them.”

No surprise there. Luca’s a bookworm with eclectic taste. I’ve seen him reading pretty much every genre. For the last month, he’s been doing a reread of the Harry Potter books.

He leaves again for a minute and when he comes back he has a laptop in hand. He puts it down beside me on the bed and opens the lid.

“Leo gave me the password. It works for every doc except this one.”

I blink, unsure why Leo would give Luca the password, unless… “Are you doing admin for him?”

“No fucking comment,” he grits out.

My mouth opens. Closes. I got nothing.

“And you better not make a fucking comment, either.” He taps the top of the screen. “What’s in this folder? What are you protecting with a different password from all the others? Something important, I’m thinking.”

“Have you mentioned this to Leo?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

His eyes grow cold. “You’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you, Luca. Go ahead and take a look. The password is your name. First and last. All caps. Zeroes instead of Os.” LUCAR0MAN0

His brows draw together and a sliver of confusion slides behind his gaze. Then he enters the password.

“What the fuck?” he mutters.

I watch as he opens up documents within the folder, his jaw tight. It takes a minute. It’s got a lot of content: spreadsheets, contracts, documents, photos. It takes another few minutes as he reads and processes exactly what he’s seeing.

“Salvatore wanted me to keep that confidential. I’m sure you understand why,” I say. He thought that revealing any of the folder’s contents should be Luca’s choice, when and if he ever felt ready.

For a second, I feel a horrible pang of loss. Salvatore is dead and I miss him. Worse, I have betrayed his memory. He trusted me not only with his secrets, but with other people’s secrets. And I told my aunt some of those secrets. I gave her people access to Leo’s yacht, to his family. They could have all been killed.

But if I didn’t give her the information, she threatened to kill Sofia.

I never thought I had a choice.

But there’s always a choice, isn’t there? Why didn’t I tell Salvatore about my father, about my aunt, about Sofia? Why didn’t I ask for his help?

Because I am Bruno Moretti’s daughter, raised to be a pawn, raised to obey orders, raised to know I am not worthy of anything other than being a disposable piece on my father’s gameboard. Now, my aunt’s gameboard.

What would happen if I tell Leo everything, if I ask for his help?

Sure. I’ll just waltz up to him and spill my guts. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to help me after I, you know, almost got him killed. Maybe we can bond over coffee and revenge.

I bend my knees and hug them, sitting in silence as Luca studies the contents of the folder for a few more minutes.

Finally, he says, “I’m deleting this.”

“That’s probably for the best,” I agree.

“Do you have backups?”

I shake my head.

“Why the fuck should I believe you?” he growls.

You shouldn’t.

“Because my track record screams ‘trustworthy,’ doesn’t it?” I say. When he glares at me, I sigh. “I have no interest in taking you down, Luca. Especially not over something like this.”

He looks at me skeptically, but there’s no ice there anymore. A strange vulnerability has entered his gaze.

He drags the file to the trash, then empties the trash.

“That’s not enough,” I say. “Someone with skills could still recover that info. You need to use the file shredder software, too.” I walk him through it and make sure he wipes the free space, as well.

He gathers the laptop and leaves the room again. He’s gone for so long I figure that he’s not coming back, but then the door opens. He’s carrying a plastic container with a gray bottom and a white top, with small slits along both sides. The front is a mesh door.

I hold my breath as he places the pet carrier down on the ground and opens up the door. A kernel of hope unfurls. I try to keep it in check because me and hope are not exactly besties.

A pair of green eyes gleam in the shadowed interior and my hope grows. A pink nose appears at the edge of the carrier, twitching. Then a white paw emerges, tentative, barely brushing the floor before retreating.

My hands fly instinctively to my lips, my heart hammering in my chest.

The paw re-emerges. A second white paw joins the first, the movement slow, deliberate. Finally a sleek body appears, the handsome tabby offering a single flick of his tail as he clears the carrier. He pauses, stretches, then looks around the room, meows softly and trots over to me.

Tears roll down my cheeks.

“Charlie. My baby,” I coo as I gather him into my arms. His purrs are so loud that I can both feel them and hear them. “I missed you, honey. Are you okay?”

“Does he usually talk back?” Luca asks.

“Not verbally,” I say. I wipe my face and look up at him. “You picked up my cat.”

“On Leo’s orders.”

“What? Why?” Leo sent Luca to retrieve my cat. Why would he do that? “Oh, my god,” I whisper, horror slicing through me. Will he use Charlie to get answers out of me? Will he hurt him—?

“Hey, relax,” Luca says, as if reading my thoughts and fears. “I don’t kill animals. Or hurt them. Ever.” He exhales sharply. “No one is going to hurt your fucking cat.”

And for some reason, I believe him.

“Leo said you were worried about what would happen if you didn’t pick up the cat when you were supposed to,” Luca says. “Guess he didn’t want you to worry.”

I am left speechless. Why would Leo care if I worry about my cat? Why would he send Luca to retrieve him? I’m Leo’s prisoner…

“I don’t understand,” I say as Charlie nuzzles my chin and then settles into my arms.

Luca shrugs.

I kiss the top of Charlie’s head. He’s literally the best cat in the whole world. More like a dog, in the fact that he likes to be held like a baby. He’s never bitten me, never scratched me. He’s an angel.

I never want to let him go.

But he can’t stay with me here. Not here. This is no place for something I love.

“Thank you,” I say to Luca.

“Don’t thank me. Like I said, Leo’s orders.” He reaches over and gently scratches behind Charlie’s ear. Charlie presses his head to Luca’s hand and purrs even louder. “He likes me.”

“I think he does,” I say. A dull ache tugs at my heart. “I need you to do something for me, Luca.”

He keeps scratching Charlie’s ear. “That’s probably not going to happen, gorgeous.”

“I said I didn’t have backups of those files, but maybe I do. Maybe I have more collateral than anyone realizes. I’ve seen some shit since working for the Russos.”

The hard edge returns to his eyes as he glances at me. “I have no doubt.”

“I want you to do this because you have a heart,” I say. “But I’m not above blackmail. I’ll share the contents of those files if you don’t do this one thing I ask.”

“Be careful what you say to me next, Nicole.”

I know I’m poking a bear. I know he could kill me with his bare hands in five seconds or less.

“Look after Charlie,” I say, my throat tight. “If… when something happens to me, Charlie will need a home. For all our differences, Luca, I know you’ll take good care of him.”

He stares at me for a few moments, brow furrowed, as the realization sets in that I didn’t just blackmail him for anything truly dire.

He glances at the cat in my arms, then back to my face.

“Fuck me,” he says.

“He’s a good cat, the best. He won’t give you any problems. Just feed him, clean his litter. And love him. That’s all.”

Silence. And then. “I fucking hate you for this, Nicole.”

“Is that a yes?”

If his frown were any deeper, his eyebrows would touch his cheeks. Then he shakes his head and says, “Fine, yeah.”

“Good. Thank you.” My eyes are stinging as I kiss the top of Charlie’s head and ease him back into the carrier. I want to keep him here with me, wrapped in my arms. But that’s selfish. “You should take him now. This isn’t a good place for him. This isn’t a place he can be happy. No scratching post or cat tree. No window for him to watch the birds. No catio.” I glance at him. “He’s going to need all those things.”

“What’s a catio?” Luca says.

“It’s an enclosure so he can go outside and be safe. Not wander off and get hurt or hit by a car. You can order one online.”

Tears prick my lids as Luca grabs the handle and lifts the carrier. He moves toward the door, then spares a glance back at me.

“You are a goddamn mystery to me, Nicole.”

And then he’s gone. And Charlie is gone.

My heart breaks even though I know I did the right thing. He’ll be safe with Luca.

Numb, I cross to the TV and turn it on, then settle in the armchair, scrolling mindlessly through the channels. I watch a sitcom. Then another. As soon as they’re over, I’ve already forgotten what they were about. I click through channels, finally stopping at the local news.

“Good evening,” a female voice says. “Tonight we begin with breaking updates on the explosion that destroyed a local motel and left the community shaken. Four days ago, a powerful blast tore through the Desert Mirage Motel, reducing much of the building to rubble and leaving investigators scrambling for answers.”

“What?” I surge to my feet, a shiver chasing along my spine.

I was staying at the Desert Mirage.

“Local authorities have confirmed that the blast was caused by an improvised explosive device planted in one of the rooms. Eight people sustained injuries, ranging from minor cuts to broken bones and serious burns. There were no fatalities. The surrounding area remains cordoned off as investigators search for clues.”

The image on screen cuts to the smoking remains of the motel.

The majority of the damage is at the south end of the single-story building. The walls are blown out, chunks of debris scattered across the ground, extending into the parking lot. Blackened scorch marks stain the ground. The roof in that section is caved in, with beams and insulation hanging loose.

I feel like I’ve been dropped in an ice bath, a chill sinking through my bones.

The image cuts to a police spokesperson.

“We are looking at surveillance footage from the area and asking witnesses to come forward. Any detail could be crucial to the investigation.”

I watch as the image cuts to an on-scene reporter and then back to the anchorwoman.

“Authorities have yet to determine the motive behind the bombing, though they believe it was targeted.”

She doesn’t identify the target. I don’t need her to.

The target was me.

If Leo hadn’t kidnapped me from the cemetery, I would have been in that room. I would be dead.

I stumble back and fall into the armchair, my whole body shaking.

Who tried to kill me? No one knew I was staying at that motel, in that room, except…

I remember the note I left for my aunt at my father’s grave. On it were the motel’s coordinates and a single word: please. The only ones who would have seen that note are my aunt’s people.

And now the motel at those coordinates is a pile of ash and rubble and debris.

Two bombs targeting two Morettis: my father and now, me.

Leo was holding me here—wherever here is—when that bomb went off. He had no reason to blow up the Desert Mirage Motel.

Whoever planted that bomb expected me to be at the motel.

Fear chokes me.

Someone in my aunt’s organization is planting bombs, and the Morettis are the target.

I need to reach Bianca, warn her before it’s too late. I need to protect my sister. What if Sofia is next?