Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

18

Lucca

I’ve been watching her sleep since I woke from my brief slumber. That was probably around four a.m. or earlier.

I never usually get more than three or four hours of sleep. Last night I slept slightly longer.

It was probably because it was the first time in a while I’d gotten some action, even though it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Still, it was hot as fuck watching her open her mouth and take my cum, swallow it, then lick me clean.

Now she lies naked in my arms, asleep. She started out with her back to me then curled into me like she was seeking protection.

Since we don’t have the sheet over us, I’ve enjoyed the view of her glorious body pressed up against mine.

I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent watching her like this. It broke up my thoughts and provided something different for me to focus on.

She’s something good and out of place in my dark world. A man like me always has something on his mind.

For me, it’s the constant images of people who used to be—them in life and them in death.

Last night the question that rang through my mind was what I’m really going to do with this woman once all is said and done.

How will we live our lives if I keep her? Death will truly follow her in the path I walk.

A man like me also has enemies, a lot of enemies.

A woman with the title of my wife will be in automatic danger just for knowing me.

The prospect of Aria being in danger grips me the same way it did years ago.

She sighs and stirs, almost like she can hear my thoughts. I want to look at her breasts as she moves but what catches my attention is the unsettled look on her face.

“No, please, don’t,” she mumbles. Then she says something I can’t quite hear. “Please don’t. You’re hurting me. Stop it, you’re hurting me.”

Those words have me sitting up, and she shakes her head violently, putting her hands up like she’s shielding herself.

She jumps out of her sleep, and I catch her, steadying her by holding her shoulders.

She’s breathing hard and can barely catch her breath. Tears run down her cheeks, and she opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes.

“It’s okay, I have you,” I tell her.

She swallows hard, and I release her.

The moment she realizes she’s still naked, she grabs the sheet and covers herself, blushing with embarrassment.

I slip off the bed and get her some water which she takes.

“Thank you.”

“What were you dreaming?” It seemed to me like someone was attacking her.

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I think it was a nightmare.”

Having had my own nightmares, I know they stem from bad memories.

“Tell me what you saw.”

“It’s nothing really. Just me being silly.”

“Tell me,” I insist.

She blinks back tears, and I can see she’s clearly upset. If the dream really was nothing or silly, then she wouldn’t look so shaken.

“There was a man on top of me. He ripped my clothes off. I was on a bed in a room full of toys.”

I narrow my eyes when she looks at me. “What did he look like?”

“I couldn’t see his face. My mind just blurred that out.”

If that’s a memory, the suggestion of a room with toys means it happened when she was a child.

“Do you think that could have been a memory?”

She blows out a ragged breath. “I really hope not. I … think it must have been just a bad dream.” She winces and brings her hand to her head.

“You’re seeing Dr. Belmont in a few days. It would help to talk about anything like that.” Just in case it’s not just a dream.

“Okay.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Why are you talking to me like you care? You don’t.”

“I take care of what’s mine.” I straighten.

“You confuse me.”

She’s right. My actions are confusing even to me. “Like I said, I take care of what’s mine. So I’ll do what I can to help you get your memories back.”

“You say that, and yet you won’t even tell me how we met and why you’re the only thing I remember.”

“You’ll remember what you need to in your own time.” Then I’m sure the memory of how we were when we met will confuse her even more.

“When I do, will I know why you act as though you care, yet in the same breath, draft me into this vendetta against my father?”

“No, you won’t.”

“Will you ever tell me?”

“Aria, we’re not having this conversation.” I’m not going to talk to her about Timothy and give the game away. No way in fuck.

“He did something to you. The other day, you said we both know my father isn’t what he appears to be. What did he do to you? Tell me.”

“No!” I roar, and she looks shaken by my tone. “That's final. Don’t ask me again. Your father is a bad person, Aria. But so am I. I’m just a bad guy who can take things into his own hands to fix what he needs to fix. That’s all you need to know.”

I can tell I’ve severed any connection we had. It’s for the best it doesn’t exist.

“Fine. I won’t ask again.”

My phone, which is in my pants on the ground, buzzes with a message. She watches me as I pick it up and look at it.

It’s a message from Jon asking me to call him.

“I’ll be back later,” I tell her, and she nods. “Don’t give the wedding organizer any trouble today.”

She doesn’t answer. She just looks away from me.

That type of defiance won’t get her anywhere, and I won’t allow it.

I march over to her, lean forward, and catch her pretty face.

“I’ll be back later for a repeat of last night. Make sure you’re ready for me.” I’ll still make her stew.

This way, as badly as I want to fuck her, it will be that much sweeter when I do.

I release her and crook my finger, enticing her for a kiss.

She knows what I want and gives it to me.

One kiss and I feel the exhilaration of dirtying up something I shouldn’t have. The hallowed being in my bed who I’ll make mine soon.

I back away from her and leave her staring after me as I walk into the bathroom with my phone.

I call Jon once I’m inside, and he answers on the first ring.

“Hi, what’s up?” I ask.

When he sighs, I know he’s going to tell me something I won’t like. “Raphael isn’t just into human trafficking, Lucca. He’s selling organs on the black market.”

Now, this is different. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Wish I was. I managed to hack into his personal files. He had some serious firewalls up, but I got through eventually. He has contracts of all different descriptions, and it’s all based on the charity. The Pakhan might not have batted an eyelid over flesh trade, but he’ll care about this, definitely when the Fed’s are always snooping around. They can track this.”

“And that means I might have just found my ticket to getting rid of Raphael once and for all.”

“I’d say so. Each deal is listed to this undisclosed recipient. We just need to find out who that is. I tried to track the IP address from the emails, but I can’t. I came across more firewalls that I couldn’t get around. I did find a name we can start with, though.”

“Who?”

“Hector Perez, the snitch. It looks like he’s the middle man who’s organizing the sale.”

I know that asshole. He’s an underground black market dealer. His name mixed up in anything means we’re dealing with big fish, not just some cartel. Sure they may be involved, but I think it might be bigger.

“Wonderful, fix me a date with him for later. It looks like we need to talk.”

* * *

I use the old meat locker by the docks to interrogate the fuckers I might choose to keep alive. That ‘might’ is a big push, especially when I get this worked up.

I’m thirsty for answers, eager to find something I know will carry a punch, so Hector had better make my day.

I walk into the meat locker looking like I’ve got my shit together with my hands in my pockets.

Alexei and Jon already have Hector strung up for me, hanging upside down on one of the meat hooks we had modified for these purposes. The modification means we can torture for longer, and our victims can hang upside down or whichever way I want them and for as long as I need them to be here. A day, a week, a month. Most, however, die after a week.

Hector was shouting all sorts of shit, switching between cursing my men and sobbing from the pain. Bad enough that he’s hanging from a hook wearing nothing but his boxers and his ugly, fat, hairy body on show, but my guys messed him up pretty bad.

There’s blood on his back and bruises that have already started to turn black and blue.

I’m about to do more damage.

Guys like him don’t talk unless they have a bit of persuasion. Usually, they’re worried about whoever they’re working for finding out they talked. I just have to be scarier.

When he sees me walk in, I get the desired effect when the bastard goes silent.

He might not have known who Jon or Alexei are, but he’ll know me. Everybody in the criminal underworld knows me.

And if they don’t, oftentimes, the day they meet me is the day they die.

Right now, the terror in Hector's bulbous eyes suggests he suspects death on the menu very soon.

“Hector Perez,” I state in a nonchalant tone. The echo of my voice carries across the room.

“Please, I didn’t do anything.”

I know Jon would have started the interrogation process already, so I don’t know why he’s bothering to say that to me.

I pull my long-reach knife from my back pocket and grit my teeth when the stench of urine hits me as it pours down his body.

Disgusting.The asshole pissed himself, and I haven’t even started yet.

“If you shit, you’re dead. I will kill you a hundred times over, so don’t do it.”

“I won’t,” he stutters.

“You know what I want, so don’t tell me bullshit about how you did nothing. Your dealing for Raphael De Marchi. Tell me who his buyer is.”

“I told your men I don’t know. I just set up the meetings. I don’t know who he meets with.”

Bull shit. He must think I’m an idiot.

I decide to play with him.

“Alexei, get me my tools.”

“Yes, Boss,” Alexei grabs the box with my butchering set. It’s great to take things up a notch when I need to.

I take out the clamp first and fire up the furnace across from me. It doesn’t take long to get as hot as I need it to be. Boris from Grigori’s crematorium rigged it up to my personal tastes.

When Hector sees blazing flames, he screams and begs for his life.

“Please, Lucca, no, please. I beg of you, don’t do this! Don’t kill me.”

“Then tell me more than the shit you have.” I heat up the clamp, holding it in the fire so it can get Hell hot. “Do you seriously expect me to believe you just set the meeting up, and you don’t even know who for?”

“I don’t.”

I walk over to him and poke him in his side with the clamp. The sound that rips out of his throat is comparable to a wild animal. It’s filled with pain and pierces through me. That’s all it does, though. I’m used to that sound, and if he continues to lie, I’ll use the clamp properly and burn off his fingers one at a time.

“One more time, Hector, who is Raphael meeting with?”

“I’m telling you the truth,” he sobs, and I jab him again.

“You must know something!” I bellow. I lift my hand to end him because he’s pissing me off. If I stab him with this searing clamp in his stomach, his organs would burst and kill him straight away.

He stops me just as I’m about to deliver the finishing blow.

“Wait, please wait,” he yells, still sobbing. There’s something in his painful cries that alerts me he might be telling the truth.

I glance at Jon, who notices too, and nods.

“I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know details like names. That’s not how I set things up. That’s why people come to me. They use codes. His was the Red Ace. I set it up like a poker game, and anyone with the code is in the contract. If you let me live, I can at least alert you when they’re meeting next. That’s all I can do, Lucca. Please.”

I look at Alexei and motion for him to lower the rope.

“Cut him down and get him to a hospital.” I look back at Hector, who has his eyes trained on me. “You only get one chance with me, Hector. Blow it, and you're done, and everyone you know is dead. I own your ass now. Alexei will give you the number to call me once you’re ready to alert me.”

“Thank you.”

“Do not thank me yet.”