Savage Mafia King (Vicious Heirs #3)

Chapter Thirteen—Marcus

We drive in silence. I can feel the anger coming off her in waves, and I can hardly blame her. She's clearly pissed that I'm even making her contend with these accusations against her, but if she thinks I'm going to let this drop just because of the connection we share, she's got another thing coming.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looks beautiful, as she always does, her hair swept back from her face, a leather jacket clinging to her slim frame, and a pair of jeans showing off her slender legs. I want to reach over and grip her thigh, tell her I'm sorry for ever even thinking about doubting her, but I know she doesn't want to hear that shit.

We're heading to the fight, where the Castellano bastard who has been working against us will be. As far as they know, we haven't found out that he's been working there, and I'm going to use him as a litmus test for Isabella, introduce the two of them and see how both of them react. I'm not sure exactly what I expect to happen, but I need to feel like I have at least some inch of control over this situation.

Giovanni and Valentina did their best to talk me out of coming here tonight, but I ignored them. They want to hole up in the house and hide out. But that's how the Castellanos want this to unfold. They want us to wither away on the vine in our place, give up our power by hiding out. It's not going to happen. Not as long as I still have breath in my lungs.

We pull up outside the warehouse, and she's still not looking at me as I open the car door and gesture for her to get out. She sweeps past me without a second look. It's obvious that she's pissed, but I'd rather she get pissed at me and we figure out the truth than play nice and lose what little safety my family still has left.

I secure her hand in mine. She tries to pull it away, but I grip tight.

"We're together, remember?" I growl at her. Her hand slackens in my grip, giving up the fight as we head inside.

Maybe it's just my imagination, but there's a crackle in the air that normally isn't there. It's more than just the smell of cigarette smoke, more than just the sticky booze on the floor, more than the tension as people lay down their bets. It's something worse. Something heavier. I scan the room, searching for my trusted staff, and eventually, my eyes land on Teyona, who's running the financial side of the game tonight. She lifts her head at me in greeting, and I make my way toward her.

"Who's working tonight?" I ask her.

"Uh, we have Polly, Paula, and Marco," she replies, running her finger along the clipboard she's holding.

My ears prick up. "Marco?"

"Yeah, he's relatively new," she replies.

"Where is he now?"

"Outside, I think." Her eyebrows raise at my sudden interest in the staff. "Having a smoke. Why?"

I don't answer, instead leading Isabella out the back, where the staff usually duck out to smoke. And sure enough, a few moments later, we come across a man working his way through a cigarette. His hands are shaking slightly, like maybe he knows he's doing something he shouldn't be doing. I reach his side, still holding on to Isabella tight. This is the key moment. If they look at each other and show even the barest hint of recognition, then I know that something is happening between them.

"Hey."

I catch his attention. His head snaps around. He's a young guy, doesn't look much older than me, his uneven hair and jumpy attitude telling me everything I need to know. He's been sent out here to keep an eye on our business from the inside out. And as much as it infuriates me that he's been allowed to get away with it this long, I need to know whether he and Isabella know each other.

His eyes flick over to hers for a moment. I study his face, taking it in. I wait to see a flicker of shock or recognition or even a slight greeting on his part, but there's nothing. I glance at her. She's staring back at him with a similar impassiveness, not breaking his gaze. Her lips are pressed together in a hard line, as though daring him to claim some kind of knowledge of her.

"Got a smoke?" I ask him, holding out a hand.

He hesitates for a moment. He looks like he wants nothing more than to tell me to fuck off. But I run this joint, and he's not going to get away with brushing me off like that.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the pack of cigs, then holds them out to me. I take one and reach for his lighter. I'm not much of a smoker these days, but if it gives me a reason to stick around here a little longer, to figure out this fucker, then I'll do it.

"You're new, right?" I ask as I take a long draw of the cig.

Isabella grips my hand a little more tightly, as though she's fearful.

Marco nods. "Yeah."

"How'd you find out about this place?" I keep my voice as casual as I can. "Not exactly like you can apply with a resume."

"Uh, my cousin told me about it," he replies.

He's lying. His eyes slide away from mine, dodging my scrutiny.

"Oh yeah?" I shoot back.

The smoke is tearing at my throat. I take another long draw. Anger is starting to get the better of me. When I think of what they did to Giovanni, how much further they could take it if they wanted to, it's hard not to just take him on right now.

"Yeah."

"Because I heard that you worked for the Castellanos," I remark, venom rising through my words. "What do you know about them?"

Marco's head whips around in a panic. His eyes are wide. Now he knows what I'm talking about.

"I… uh, I don't—"

He tosses his cigarette to the ground and makes a dart for the door. I drop Isabella's hand and shoot my arm out in front of him, sending him crashing backward. He staggers, and I round on him, my eyes narrowing.

"Oh, so now you know who I'm talking about?" I snarl at him, rage rushing through my body.

Isabella tries to catch my shoulder and pull me back. "Marcus, he's not—"

I ignore her and catch the man by his lapels, then slam him back against the wall behind me. I'm still holding the lit cigarette in one hand, and I can feel the heat of it burning down toward my fingertips.

"Tell me what the fuck you know about the Castellano family," I growl at him.

He squirms in my grip. "I can't—"

"Either you fucking tell me, or I'll make your life a living hell for the short time you have left," I warn him.

I lift the cigarette, hovering it in front of his eye. He stares down at the smoldering tip, and the burning reflection is visible on the surface of his eye. He pulls back, but it's not far enough. He knows damn well that it will take just one wrong move for me to take him out.

"Jesus, man, I'm just trying to work," he protests, and I let out a bark of laughter.

"You want to work? How about you get up in that ring and go against one of my guys?" I demand. "Let them beat the fucking shit out of you, and then we'll see how loyal you are."

I inch the cigarette closer to his eye. He lets out a groan.

"They just wanted me to work here to keep an eye on you, man, that's all it was! I don't know what they wanted the information for, I never asked, I never wanted to know..."

"Oh, you wanted to pretend you didn't see anything?" I spit. "I can help with that."

And with that, I push the cigarette into his eye. He lets out a howl of pain, so loud it almost deafens me, and I hear Isabella suck in a sharp breath of shock behind me. I don't move the cigarette as it burns through the soft tissue of his eye. I need to punish him, not just for working against me, but for making me doubt her, too. For making me think, even for a moment, that she might be capable of working against me.

The commotion draws the attention of a couple of the security guards inside the warehouse. They appear at the door a moment or two later, just in time to see me toss the cig to the side and let Marco sink to the ground in agony. He clasps his hand over his face, curling up into a helpless ball on the floor.

"Get rid of him," I spit to them. "I don't want him to set foot in here ever again."

"What happened—"

"It's none of your fucking business what happened!" I explode at the guard who dared question me. "I pay you to do your jobs. Now do them."

I turn toward Isabella. Her face is pale, and I half expect her to run from me, but she stays rooted to the spot.

"You believe me now?" she demands, her eyes blazing as they meet mine.

I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, planting a kiss against the back of it. "I believe you."

And I mean it. Because she's still here with me right now, even though I can tell every part of her is screaming to run.

Maybe this woman has more strength in her than I ever could have imagined. Maybe she's more ready for my world than I thought. Because the way she's staring back at me now, I can tell she's not going anywhere.

And right now, that feels like the only thing in the world that matters.