Shielded Wrongs: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 4) Read online

  As soon as the others settled around the table, we each dug into the dishes that my mother and the others had artfully arranged so that everybody had their favorite within reach. I went straight for the Chicken Adobo as Duke scooped rice onto his plate and topped it with Mechado.

  "How's the gym?" Dad asked, breaking the silence and making me swallow down my first bite of piping hot rice and chicken. I mourned the fact that I'd swallowed too quickly to enjoy that unique salty and sour flavor that I could never replicate.

  "It's good. Everything is good," I said, smiling at him blandly and trying to quell the rising anxiety from the disorder in the kitchen. The urge to fidget became more overwhelming with added desire for his approval. Something that I still felt after three decades of passive assumption that I may be happier in another career.

  He nodded his head vaguely, stirring the sisig so that the eggs on top of the pork, onions, and pepper mixture cooked as it blended with the rest of the ingredients on the hot plate at the center.

  "Nobody's giving you any trouble?" he asked, and I frowned down at my food and poked it.

  "Why would anybody give her trouble?" Oliver asked, always coming to my rescue. Of all my brothers, the oldest one was the only one who knew just how much it bothered me to have Dad ask questions like that.

  He'd never ask that question if Oliver ran the gym. Or if Ethan or Lucas ran it, for that matter. The only reason it was an issue for him was because I was a woman running a gym full of men. A woman in a business he’d always planned on his sons taking over.

  "Yeah, Dad. Sadie's terrifying," Lucas laughed sarcastically, staring down at me from across the table. Even as the baby of the family, he was the tallest.

  I was fairly certain he'd been dropped on the step as a baby, since there was literally no way he'd come from either of my parents. My dad wasn't short, not like mom and I, but he wasn't 6'2" either.

  "You better hope you never have to come stay with me again," I sneered, slicing another bite of chicken off the thigh on my plate.

  "And just why is that, big sister?" he asked, that face somehow always looking playful and bright even though it had long passed the time for him to have serious concerns as an adult.

  I didn't suspect Lucas would ever grow up.

  "I'll shave your head while you sleep." I gave him a bright smile, biting the chicken off my fork. "I don't think your little girlfriends will think you're so adorable when they can see that cone head of yours. Did it ever go back to normal after they vacuumed you out of Mom's vagina?"

  "Sadie Anne!" Oliver scolded, though his voice trailed off into the affectionate laughter I was so used to from my older brother. The one who would have been protective if I'd ever needed it, compared to the quiet middle child, Ethan, and the wild child younger brother who drove me crazy.

  "It's true. He always had to have his hair cut just so because otherwise he looked like a traffic cone," Mama giggled, digging into her ensalada with a vigor that could only come from the fact that she'd spent the entire day in the kitchen.

  "Well, is his hair still cut the same way?" Joy asked, leaning in to the table to nudge Duke like he might reveal the answers. He'd known me a long time and had probably known Lucas long enough to say.

  But she should have known better than to expect a man to notice another man's haircut. That was a sister's job.

  Especially when it could be used as beautiful blackmail material.

  "He has not once, in all the years since he was born, cut his hair any other way," I teased.

  "Shut up, short shit," he spat back, but his lips tipped up into the barest hint of a smile.

  Family was strange sometimes.

  But it was everything all the same.

  4

  Enzo

  Bryan turned his head with a sharp spin, looking damn close to the exorcist with the sudden movement. My hand twitched, going for the gun at my waist as my paranoia rose along with his.

  Surprise was not the friend of a combat veteran.

  The sound of rapid gunfire hovered at the edge of my consciousness as a bloody haze settled over my vision. I shook it off with a shrug of my shoulders, inching my Glock back toward its holster slowly.

  A group of six strolled through the back doors of the club as if they didn't have a care in the world. I understood very well that they had every right, but a knock wouldn't have gone unappreciated.

  The shits.

  I slid the gun back into the holster, shaking my head at Lino’s grin. He should know better than anyone that sneaking up on me wasn't intelligent. "I could have shot you in the face," I sneered at him, making Bryan chuckle as he started over with his count of the cash.

  "But it's such a pretty one," Lino grinned back, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks and faking a grimace.

  "I've seen prettier," Matteo grumbled, casting an annoyed look behind him when Simon and the others shuffled him and Lino into the door fully so they could close it behind them. Counting cash was always a motivation to close the door. But the knowing look on Simon's face as his eyes landed on mine communicated that I wasn’t the only one plagued by the need for stricter security.

  Matteo wasn't the type to hide behind the safety of the walls of his Estate. He'd never let another man intimidate him in his own city, and that made Simon's life more difficult. Protecting a man tucked safely in a fortress was easy.

  Protecting a man out in the open where any decent sniper could blow his head off? That was another story.

  The only saving grace was that taking out Matteo would change nothing for Murphy. In his absence, the rest of the Bellandi family would rally behind Lino and their desire for revenge. You cut off one head of the hydra, and you ended up with two more in its place. The same logic applied to Tiernan Murphy himself. I wanted nothing more than to go to the building across from Murphy's, set up my rifle, and blow his head off for his crime of trafficking women within our city.

  But I knew the score. I understood how it worked. Just like when Ivory had killed Adrian Ricci and his men, his absence only created a power vacuum for another predator to claim.

  It didn't stop me from doubling security on both Matteo and Lino to two bodyguards each, and I only stopped there because the bastards wouldn't let me put more men on them.

  The only ones of us who didn't have any personal security were Ryker and me. Mostly because I dared anyone to fuck with Ryker. The man was certifiably insane and enjoyed bloodshed far too much to let a bodyguard take the joy of it away from him. And also because he'd threatened to cut off my trigger finger if I gave him personal security.

  I very much liked that finger right where it was on my right hand. After the Army trained me to shoot with that instead of my left, something which did not come naturally to me, I couldn't imagine not having both hands and being able to shoot with both of them.

  The thought of having one shooting hand seemed so crippling after that.

  We waited in silence while Bryan finished his count, nodding his head to Lino as he packed the cash into the false-bottomed case of wine to load into his trunk and drive to drop off at various businesses for laundering. Some of it stayed in the club, getting laundered throughout the night whenever Ash had time to make it happen and didn't have nosy Vanessa or one of the other bartenders watching him.

  Once he'd grabbed the case and moved to the door Simon opened for him, the group followed me to the front. We maneuvered through the Valentine's Day crowd, using them for camouflage, and then made our way up the stairs until we reached the VIP area. Vanessa glared at me as we passed the VIP bar she was in charge of at that moment, the look softening when she found Simon. He ignored her pointedly, rounding the bottom of the steps and taking the lead up the stairs so that Matteo, Lino, and I were in the middle and followed by the other of my guys.

  I trusted them with my life. I trusted them with Matteo and Lino's lives.

  It might not be the same brotherhood I'd found in the Army, but it was a brotherhood all the same. I'd ev
en argue it was stronger since I didn't do the job out of a sense of loyalty to my country. I protected them because I wanted them to be safe, and there was nothing more satisfying than having a direct love for the people the cause benefited when you put your life on the line every day, instead of a general vague responsibility that never quite felt tangible.

  We passed my office, going further down the hall to the one that Matteo and Lino shared. It rarely saw use. Not since the Manager took over the daily operations at the club. He had no use for a big office since he spent most of his time down on the floor supervising employees and interacting with our VIPs.

  But the office was off-limits to anyone not in the upper echelons of the Bellandi family. Even I only went inside when I had specific permission, and considering I frequently ate dinner at the estate, I suspected I'd somehow maneuvered my way through the ranks to be one of them.

  Matt and Rocco stayed in the hall, guarding the door and the blind spot it created as Georgio closed it behind us. Matteo took his seat behind the desk like a king on his throne, glancing down at the dance floor through the two-way mirrored glass with a scowl on his face. He and I had more in common than I liked to admit, with our hatred of the overly loud music.

  "Where's Ryker?" I asked, settling in to lean against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. Lino took one of the chairs, but Simon and Georgio stayed standing with me. Once you trained to become a soldier, whether for the Bellandis or the Army, it became difficult to relax. Even in the safety of a private office in a club your boss owned with guards on every entrance.

  Nothing was safe. Nothing was sacred.

  Danger was everywhere.

  "At the warehouse," Lino said. "He grabbed another one of Tiernan's men with a bait girl." I flinched, hating the fact that we used any of the girls from our stables as a snare. There were too many variables for my taste, too much at risk if we failed to protect them, but if the alternative was to just let them take women until we were ready to launch a full-scale take down, then it was a risk we had to take.

  Until we had Liam O'Connell, the head of the Irish, on our side and willing to help us rid the city of the scum he allowed to walk in and out of his house without consequence, we couldn't dismantle Murphy’s human trafficking operation. So Ryker watched. Ryker took photos. He gathered evidence of every betrayal Tiernan committed against the man who was soon meant to be his father-in-law. A man who was already his boss.

  And in the coming weeks we'd sever Tiernan from most of his network, and then, when our additional support came from our allies around the world, we'd have everything we needed in place to take down his entire operation. His buyers. His transports. All of it.

  We'd burn it to the ground until nothing remained.

  "That's the third one we grabbed this week." I chewed on my left thumbnail, thinking over the escalation and what it could mean. Either Murphy thought we'd decided his human trafficking wasn't worth the effort to dismantle, or he'd finally caught on to what we were doing.

  If he was sacrificing men to us, there had to be a reason, and the only one that made sense was to serve as a distraction.

  But a distraction from what?

  "It's an alarming escalation," Matteo echoed my unvoiced thought. "Any word from your guys?"

  "After the shooting at the new bar on Broadway, they agreed they'd be here sooner. End of next month," I told him. It wasn't soon enough, not if I was right in my hunch that the girls were just a distraction, but it would have to do.

  Matteo sighed. "The same as Rafael's men from Ibiza, then?" he asked.

  I nodded in agreement. We'd have others trickling in from here and there before then, but it wouldn't be enough without those two groups.

  "The cloak and dagger shit kills me. I just want to kill something," Simon growled, pacing through the room. I understood the need and the desire, no matter how much I tried to push it down and bury it. It waited just beneath my skin, slithering around like something insidious and waiting to be unleashed.

  I was a killer all the same, and my conscience became more and more diluted with every day that passed.

  I just had to hope I would never reach the point where something pushed me over the edge and I found myself beyond redemption.

  5

  Sadie

  No air.

  There was nearly no air in my lungs. No breath in my body. I flung my eyes open, fighting through the haze to see the figure looming above me.

  My bedroom was dark. Not a trickle of light shining in through my curtains.

  The sound of his ragged breathing filled the silence. “Keep quiet, and I won’t need to hurt you. We’re just going for a little ride.” I couldn’t see his face, could only barely make out the size of his body above mine and the pressure of his hands on my throat.

  I could take him. I’d taken bigger men down, but there was something so distinctly different about the reality of being attacked in my bed while I slept.

  The realness of thumbs crossed over the front of my throat like a vice. Of the way my lungs rattled in my chest as they fought for air.

  I nodded my head, playing complacent as I considered my options. As I studied the lines of his body, the placement of his limbs and his weight.

  As I took stock of his weak points that I could exploit.

  “Are you going to be a good girl?” he asked, the slime of his voice coating my skin in goosebumps.

  I nodded again, discreetly tucking my elbows into my sides. With his hips between my legs, I didn’t want to contemplate the fact that he’d somehow snuck into my house and gotten on top of me while I slept.

  All that mattered in that moment was breaking every bone in his body.

  I hooked my right hand around his left forearm, giving him the widest eyes I could, and shuddered out a whimper. “Please,” I rasped.

  When a smirk dragged over his mouth, I knew I had him right where I wanted him. Believing me weak. Desperate. Small and defenseless.

  “What will you give me, sugar tits?” he asked, and I didn’t stop the way my face contorted into a grimace at the feel of his hot, rancid breath on my face.

  Gross.

  I thrust my left arm up, catching him around the right side of his neck. My left foot went to his hip, using it to pivot my body in the bed beneath him until I could kick my right leg into his armpit and hold him there with a locked knee.

  I twisted my left leg over his head, wrapping his shoulder up as I crossed my legs around it. With my body contorted beneath him, I ignored his squirming attempts to push off me. Grabbing his wrist with both hands, I shoved my legs down until he rolled off me to thump onto the mattress next to me.

  The position meant his arm was between my legs, with me gripping it tight. I held it tight to my body as I shoved my hips up into the air, feeling nothing but glee when his elbow snapped backward and the bone broke.

  “Fucking bitch!” he roared, his arm going limp in my hands as I raised my foot from the bed and smashed it down onto his nose.

  “Piece of shit,” I wheezed, rolling backwards and off the edge of the bed. I raced for the living room, leaving him to decide how he wanted to pick up the pieces of his pride.

  I’d shatter what remained by the time I finished with him.

  I scrambled for the bat tucked behind my couch, never more grateful for my need for order than I was in that moment. Yanking it out from its hiding place, I spun and watched as he stumbled out of the bedroom. He grasped the doorway as he passed, leaving a red smear on the paint, and he grimaced at me with blood-stained teeth. My eye twitched, my fingers tightening on the bat.

  “You know, like you haven't pissed me off enough. Now I have to paint to cover up your nasty ass stain.” I sighed.

  “I’m going to bring you back to Murphy black and blue,” he snarled.

  I hefted my bat, holding my stance and staggering my feet for better traction. “I think it’s more likely that Ryker will paint the warehouse walls with your blood. It’s a much more
welcome decor item there. You’ll fit right in.” I smiled, watching as he staggered forward another step.

  I was too small to attack. Too small to sacrifice my balance and the strength that came from planting my weight.

  He came closer.

  Slowly.

  Approaching me like a caged animal, he looked at me with rabid eyes. Men never saw that they were the animals. That they were the monsters. Women were just theirs to take and use.

  Abuse.

  I’d be fucking damned if I became a victim when I spent my time teaching women how to be survivors.

  So I waited. I itched to hit him and to make him bleed the way he would have done to me if I’d been anyone else. But he’d picked the wrong woman to steal out of bed in the night.

  Murphy could kiss my Filipina ass.

  He raised his hand, blocking his face as he came closer.

  One more step.

  And I struck, swinging my bat not for his face like he thought I would, but for the broken elbow he kept hanging at his side like a limp dick. He roared, grabbing at it as pain exploded through his arm.

  He dropped his block, and I raised a leg to my chest. Kicking down onto his kneecap, I felt it give beneath him as he collapsed to the other knee.

  I swung again, catching him in the temple.

  He fell to the floor, bashing his face on the coffee table and staining the carpet too while he was at it.

  My landlord would not like me when morning came.

  It was a good thing he was my Dad.

  I brought the bat with me as I went back to the bedroom. I didn’t let myself look at the bloodstained sheets as I snagged my phone off the nightstand.

  Even in the middle of the night, she’d answer the phone. Matteo would want to kill me, but she’d answer.

  “Sadie?” my best friend asked in a sleepy voice. I hated waking her up, but I had a feeling Matteo wouldn’t appreciate me calling the cops for this.

  “Don’t panic, but tell Matteo one of Murphy’s friends needs picking up,” I sighed, stepping back into the living room to check on my attacker. Ivory sucked in a sharp breath as I watched the body on my carpet, counting every time his chest rose and fell. I wouldn’t get close enough for him to catch me off guard on the chance that he only pretended to be unconscious.