Black Hearted (The Margarelli Brothers 1)

That being said, it could also be a well-laid trap. It was still daylight, so I doubted it. I watched as he chucked his smoke and turned, whipping his dick out and pissing against the wall.

That was my cue.

“Philip.”

He froze, his cock in his hand.

“Turn around slowly. After you put your dick away,” I warned. I knew the fucker would like nothing better than to piss all over my Italian loafers.

“Can I finish pissing first?”

“By all means,” I said magnanimously.

But he didn’t. I should have known. I did know.

I thanked my lucky stars that the moron reached for his gun as he turned, his cock still flying in the breeze. I hadn’t wanted to shoot an unarmed man. Thanks to his bad character, I didn’t have to.

He didn’t get a chance to raise his weapon. It was over that fast. Neither of us hesitated. It had been sheer arrogance for him to even try.

I shot him first. Then Tony, Michael, and Tiny. Philip shimmied one way and then the other before he fell to the ground, lifeless.

“Jesus, what a creep,” my cousin breathed.

“He was trying to piss on your shoes,” my brother said in awe. He almost sounded impressed.

Well, Tony wasn’t wrong about that.

“Let’s move.”

“Take me to her,” I said after we jogged to the waiting limo and sped off. Well, they jogged. I shambled, but quickly.

Cain’s crew texted that we were clear. No one had seen anything. No one had been outside sweeping off their stoop. No old ladies peaking out of windows. Cain’s guys had eyes everywhere. They’d kept the streets clear and diverted the traffic cams.

He was gone. Francesca was free. And now, I was going to claim her.

There was nothing standing in our way. Nothing and no one.

At last, after all these years, the girl was going to be mine.

Chapter Thirty

Francesca

“You have a visitor.”

“Who is it?” I asked idly, braiding my daughter’s hair. We were lounging in bed and watching a movie.

My baby is back.

I found myself whispering the same words over and over again in my head like a mantra. No. It was more like a magic spell. Or a prayer. Words to hold off the evil outside the door.

I pressed a kiss to her temple and squeezed her. A little too hard, judging by the squeak she let out. “Sorry,” I muttered. But I wasn’t the slightest bit contrite. I wanted to touch her and hold her and smell her as much as I could.

I wondered if I would ever trust that she was safe again. Not that a mother could ever relax. Having a child meant that your heart resided outside your body.

And it would for the rest of your life.

“You will want to see him. But maybe not with the little angel.”

“Go with Maria, Angelique,” I said quickly, not sure what to expect.

“And fix your hair,” she said with a wink as my heart began to pound. I raced to the mirror and adjusted my hair, applying a thin coat of tinted lip balm. I stared at myself, afraid to hope. I looked tired. But there was nothing I could do about that.

I was tired. Exhausted, really. But if it were really him . . .

A soft knock came, and I called out, “Enter.”

Slowly, the door opened. I could not believe my eyes as I drank him in. I had been right. My heart had known what my mind was afraid to dream of.

Vincent was here. He was alive.

“Vincent!”

I nearly fainted. And then the awful truth hit me. Philip would know. He would know and he would come. He would take my baby from me.

What was Vincent doing here? He could ruin everything!

That was when I noticed how heavily he was leaning against the frame.

He took two steps. Three. And then he was pulling me into his arms, kissing me deeply, then resting his face in my neck, inhaling the scent of me as I inhaled the scent of him.

He groaned when I squeezed him tightly. I leaned back and stared at him. He was pale. Bloodless. Injured!

“You are hurt!”

“It’s nothing.”

“It is clearly not nothing! Come. Sit!”

He did as I asked, letting me guide him to the white sofa that dominated my sitting room.

“What happened? Tell me.”

“It’s over. You’re safe.”

“What do you mean?”

He took my hand and kissed it, then turned it over, staring at my wrist. He traced a circle on the sensitive skin, sending shivers throughout my body.

“It’s over. I finished it. I finished him.”

“Did he do this? Did he hurt you?”

“No. It was the blank. We knew it was a risk. It was nothing. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I would do anything for you.”

I stared at him, my mind whirling.

“It is truly over?”

“I swear to it, my love.”

The tears were fast and furious. Tension I had been carrying for years was lifted from my heart. I was so used to it, I had forgotten what it felt to be free of it. To simply be.