Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I sit in the front seat of the truck, urging Reaper to drive faster. Up ahead and further down the road, the Bellavista compound is in flames. Good. The boys have started without me. By now, every motherfucker dwelling within those gates will know I’m serious about finding my wife.

My heart lurches. Ginevra.

Images of that bastard whipping her like a dog sear through my mind, making my thoughts scatter. Her screams still ring through my ears. How dare he hurt my wife? How dare he force her to witness a brutal murder? It’s only a matter of time before I catch up with Victor Bellavista, and I will make him bleed.

The truck passes what’s left of the iron gates. Cesare and the others will have plowed them down the moment I gave the order to strike. As Reaper speeds down the driveway, everything from the trees to the distant buildings are alight with fire.

I open the door before he hits the breaks and step out into an atmosphere thick with smoke. Heat slaps against my skin, making me stagger back. I would say it’s like walking through the entrance to hell, but my soul is already burning. Burning with vengeance. Burning for Ginevra.

The whole world will burn even more if I don’t get my wife.

My heart pounds as I walk to the chaos unfolding on the lawn. In the distance, my men pull survivors out of the flames and gather them on the only part of the compound we’ve left intact.

Last time, Bellavista’s people knelt on the grass, stoic and tense. Now, they’re frantic. They’ve lost everything—their homes, their possessions, loved ones who put up a fight. This is only a fraction of the anguish that’s clawed through my heart since Ginevra fell into the clutches of Victor Bellavista.

Reaper catches up with me with a jerry can. Cesare and Rosalind stand up ahead, holding Salvatore and Antonio Bellavista at gunpoint. Antonio crouches on his hands and knees, coughing, gasping for air, his face streaked with soot. Salvatore sits on his ass, his aged face pale with fear.

“This is your last chance to tell me which one of you fuckers is Victor,” I snarl.

“I don’t know,” Antonio blurts. “I swear it⁠—“

Cesare kicks him in the side. “My brother didn’t ask you what you didn’t know, asshole.”

Antonio collapses onto the grass, shaking, begging, but I can’t even look him in the eye. All my focus is on Salvatore.

“He’s taken my wife,” My voice breaks, but I’m past caring about holding my emotions in check.

When he doesn’t answer, I snap my fingers.

Reaper steps forward with the jerry can, unscrewing the cap and tossing it into Salvatore’s face. I take the handle, the thick smell of gasoline cutting through the stench of fire.

“This is your last chance.”

He squares his shoulders, breathing hard as I pour the liquid over his head. He flinches at first contact but remains in place. It’s almost like he wants to die.

I kneel down, meeting his eyes. “Why are you protecting Victor?”My voice wavers, thick with rage and sorrow I can’t contain. “Is the life of one man worth your family’s?”

His eyes flick up to the burning mansion, reflecting the flames dancing in his pupils. Sweat beads on his brow as his jaw clenches, betraying his fear. My pulse quickens. This is the closest he’s ever come to showing he knows something.

Straightening, I step back and turn my attention to Antonio, dousing him with gasoline. The liquid runs over his face, down to his chest, soaking into his pajama top. He shudders, eyes wide, his gaze darting between me and his father.

“Wait, wait, please! I would tell you if I knew anything!” Antonio’s voice cracks. “Please, don’t⁠—”

Cesare smashes the butt of his gun into the back of Antonio’s head, cutting him off mid-sentence. He slumps forward, coughing through the soot and gasoline clinging to his nightclothes.

“Shut the fuck up and let your old man speak,” Cesare growls.

I turn to the old man, who inhales a deep breath like he’s bracing himself for the end.

“Salvatore!” a female voice erupts through the commotion. “Tell them.”

I glance toward the other end of the lawn and find an elderly woman in a housecoat. “Bring her here.”

Reaper strides across the grass toward a group of survivors gathered beyond the reach of the burning mansion. The old woman raises her hands like a shield, her features twisting with anguish. After taking her arm, Reaper walks her to where Salvatore kneels.

When she’s close enough, I turn to face her. “Who is Victor?”

She freezes, breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts. “I—I don’t know who he is, but he’s been blackmailing this family for over twenty⁠—”

“Mother, stop,” Salvatore hisses.

“Let her speak,” I snap.

She places a hand to her chest. “Victor has been torturing this family for decades. I don’t know what he has over my son, but it has to be something terrible enough to bring us all to ruin.”

“Shut up!” Salvatore barks.

I kneel beside him again, my patience wearing thin. “Salvatore?”

He shakes his head, refusing to speak. Beside him, Antonio stirs, coughing up more soot and gasoline.

“Is your silence worth more than your family’s lives? Because I’m about to set your son on fire, and the flames will spread to you.”

Salvatore trembles, his facade cracking, but still he says nothing.

“Lighter.”

Reaper presses the metal object into my palm. I flip it open, holding a flame in front of his face. “Last chance.”noveldrama

His eyes flicker with panic, darting from me to the flame, and back to his mother, who fills the air with sobs. He’s ready to die, but will he watch his son burn in a funeral pyre? I turn the flame to Antonio, who thrashes beside him and screams.

“Your mother will be next,” I whisper into Salvatore’s ear.

The old man’s stoic mask slips, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Victor has been holding my daughter hostage since she was an infant. I don’t know where he’s hidden her, but every time I try to cut him off, he sends a photo.”

Eyes widening, I close the lighter with a snap.

“Help me find Victor,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll even help you find the girl.”

He shakes his head. “He swore to deliver her head in a box if I interfered.”

Reaper and I exchange glances but neither of us speak, even though the threat reminds us both about Carla.

I grind my teeth, my fingers tightening around the lighter. “I’ve run out of patience.”

Turning back to Antonio, I pour the rest of the gasoline over his head, making sure to create a line of flammable fluid across the lawn. With a flick of my wrist, I toss the lighter at the end of the trail. The fire roars to life, racing across the lawn like dynamite to where Antonio tries to flee.

Cesare kicks him in the base of his spine, making him slump to the grass.

“No. Stop this!” the old woman sobs, collapsing onto the ground. “Salvatore. Say something. Save him!”

Salvatore lurches forward with a strangled cry, his eyes fixed on the flames closing in on his son.

“I’ll tell you everything!” he blurts. “Just please, stop this madness!”

I give Reaper a sharp nod. He steps forward, stamping out the flames before they can reach Antonio. The fire hisses and dies, making Salvatore slump with relief.

“Speak,” I hiss.

He stares up at me, sweat streaming down his soot-streaked face. “Victor isn’t one man. He also isn’t a Bellavista. They’re distant cousins on my mother’s side,” he says, his voice hoarse. “The one still running about is Valentino. Valentino. Bossanova.”

I freeze, my mind racing, blood pounding in my ears. That leather-faced lothario I hired to seduce Ginevra’s mother?

“Bullshit,” I growl.

Trembling, Salvatore shakes his head, his entire bulk sagging with defeat. “There are two of them. Gianni and Valentino—parasites who marry women, insure their lives, and murder them for a payout. Twenty-two years ago, Gianni was facing life in prison and didn’t have money to pay for an attorney.”

Fury pounds through my veins at the thought of having had that man in my grasp. I beat the shit out of him and set him free. If I had just killed him, Ginevra would no longer be in peril.

“They found out I’d had a daughter out of wedlock, and they took her.” Voice cracking, he doubles over with tears. “They’ve held her hostage for years, using the girl to keep me in line. Every time I tried to resist, they’d send a new photo of her. I couldn’t risk her life.”

I glare down at him, my grip tightening on the jerry can. Questions assault my mind in quick succession: Why didn’t Salvatore hire assassins or a private detective? And is her mother the woman who murdered Larry Zambino over the slot machines then nearly died in an explosion?

None of that matters when Ginevra’s life still hangs in the balance.

Rage roils in my gut, violent and raw. Every ounce of pain Ginevra’s endured, every second she’s spent in captivity, all traces back to a man I dismissed as harmless.

“Where can I find him?”

Salvatore shakes his head. “He has a penthouse overlooking the park, but he wouldn’t keep her somewhere so obvious. I’ve told you whatever you want. Just please, spare my family.”

“If you hadn’t withheld this information, I would have stopped him before he took my wife.” I reach into my pocket, extract my gun, and shoot him between the eyes.

He falls to the ground, and the old woman howls. I turn my attention away from them to lock gazes with my brother.

“Cesare,” I say.

He cocks his head.

“Talk me through that harebrained scheme you had to break Roman out of prison.”

“Why,” he asks.

“Because we’re about to abduct Gianni Bossanova from Death Row.”