Page 58 of Heartless Sinner

“You’re still here. That tells me what happened.” He took my hands and pulled me up into his arms. “I knew I’d made the right choice.”

His fingers stroked through my hair, and I melted into him, feeling safe and protected. And knew I always would with this man.

Then I remembered something. “Why weren’t you home?”

Vince pulled back, and that unreadable look was in his eyes again. “I have him. The man who killed Dmitri.”

My blood rushed in my ears, and I trembled, not from fear or desire, but from that same, black fury. My revenge had come.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Vince

* * *

To say that I wanted to have a word with my father would be a damn understatement.

I’d said before that I was a man used to getting what I wanted, and what I wanted was Marla. And the only person that could possibly deter me from that goal was Marla herself. My father sure as hell wasn’t going to get in the way. To know that he had even tried made my blood boil.

I knew, logically, that it was a smart thing to do. That Marla had no connections or money to bring to the table so he’d had to make sure that she was good enough for me, and that she wouldn’t balk at the first sign of danger. That she’d put her loyalty to me, and her word and our relationship, over whatever threats might be made to her.

But logic wasn’t in control when it came to my damn heart, apparently, and the idea that my father had told Marla to get out made me want to punch the man in the jaw.

It wouldn’t have done much, I knew that, other than convince my father that I wasn’t as in control as he’d thought. It would make him disappointed in me. But I itched to defend her—to defend this woman who just wanted vengeance for her brother.

Although, I wasn’t so sure if she’d want that vengeance now.

Marla gave me a lot of questioning looks, but I didn’t provide any answers as Toby drove us to the location where the man was being held. It was a warehouse of mine, and that should be enough to tell Marla what kind of meeting this was.

Of course, how it ended would be up to Marla. Not me.

I’d done a lot of violent things in my life. I couldn’t deny that. And I was fine with those things. I’d be lying if I said there hadn’t been an adjustment period and learning how to compartmentalize my actions. As I’d told Marla, the first time I’d seen violence up close I’d had a bad reaction.

But I had gotten used to it. I’d had to.

It had been a long time since the idea of being violent had made my stomach churn. But here I was, stomach churning, and not for myself. But for her.

We got out of the car and I gave her my arm. Marla took it, looking at me with concern and holding on tightly as we walked into the warehouse. She seemed to be feeding off my energy and grew nervous because she could feel my own hesitation.

The warehouse was one of the ones we used to move counterfeit and smuggled goods. The basics of any mafia family business. They doubled as a convenient place to get rid of bodies, especially with a lot of warehouses so near the water. I took her to one of the loading levels, where all the boxes were stacked around to make an open clearing in the middle.

A figure was tied to a chair in the middle. I hadn’t liked the idea of getting rough with him, given the circumstances of our relationship, but I didn’t trust him to stay put or not do one of my soldiers harm if he was left with his hands free.

“Could we get some damn lights in here?” I called out as we walked up.

The lights were dutifully turned on, and Marla froze as the man in the chair looked up at her.

It was the calm in Alexander Preston’s eyes that concerned me. I’d dealt with a lot of men. Most of the violent ones had it written in everything they did. There wasn’t really any hiding what they were—brutes that would hit their subordinates or their wives or anyone at the bar who bothered them. Blazing hatred was what I’d gotten used to from people tied to chairs—that or stark fear.

Alexander had neither. He was one of the violent ones, but it was tucked away, cold and hard, and that… that was what worried me.

“What the hell is this?” Marla asked angrily. She looked at me, pulling her arm from mine. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Trust me, if it’s a joke, it’s being played on both of us.” I looked over at Alexander, who said nothing. “Sonya was his girlfriend. Dmitri stole her, like he did everyone’s girl. There’d already been a lot of tension between your brothers. I have plenty of people and witnesses who told me they were expecting the two to blow up at each other at any moment.”

Marla shook her head. “No. No.” She looked at Alexander, shock and pain and disbelief written all over her face. “You wouldn’t hurt our own brother. You’d never.”

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