Page 54 of Tortured Hearts
Hestills. “Becca…”
“Mark me, Gianni,” I beg. “Take it away, and make it yours.”
There’s a silent pause, then he drives into me with the force of a man possessed, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of my shoulder. I scream, and my body erupts.
“Fuck!” He buries his face into my neck, and comes, his low grunt hot against my skin.
We stay like that for a few breathless moments, until Gianni slowly lowers me to the floor, my dress fluttering down around me. I don’t turn around right away. I brace my palm against the wall, listening to him getting dressed as I wait for my heart rate to settle.
When the room fills with silence, I turn around, one problem solved, another one brewing. “So, what happens now?”
He gives me a flat stare. “Now you have to trust me.”
“That’s a big ask.”
“I won’t let you down again, Doc,” he promises. “But I need to know you’re fighting with me and not against me.”
Say no.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” I repeat, ignoring every instinct telling me not to. “You and me against the world.”
His lips twist into a half-smile. “Yeah. You and me against the world.”
The moment stretches into two … then three. His thumb brushes my cheek as we stand there in silence. Then, he presses a light kiss on my forehead and starts toward the door. I stand in a daze, confused and exhausted, my emotions strained from one end to the other.
I glance down at my wrist, at the harsh, jaggedblack lines staining my skin, and a hazy conversation takes a familiar shape.
“This Irishman… He’s the one who killed Mom? What’s his name?”
“Dagger.”
“Dagger, what?”
“Just Dagger. That’s all he ever went by. After Carol died, I swore I’d do whatever it took to keep both him and Marchesi away from you. Even if it meant shielding you from yourself.”
“You made me believe I didn’t hear those words or see that tattoo to protect me.”
“It killed me to accept blood money from the man who destroyed our family, but I’d already lost your mother. I knew if Marchesi found out you could ID anything that linked to him, he’d return and follow through on his threat...”
“Is Dagger here, too?”
Gianni looks over his shoulder, his eyebrows clenched tightly together. “Who?”
“The man who killed my mother. My father said he was the link between your father and Providence.” I hold up my wrist. “This is the same tattoo I saw on him, so I figured maybe he might be the one who gave it to me.”
“No,” he says, the word as sharp as the needle that branded me. “He’s not here.”
I should be relieved. Instead, that confusing thirst for blood only heightens. “Oh.”
His lips tighten as he turns and opens the door.
“Gianni?”
He glances over his shoulder again, his expression already a hardened mask.
