Page 104 of Deal with the Devil
“I’m not surrendering, dolcezza. But you will survive. No matter what happens to me. That’s a promise.”
“Don’t do this,” she whispers. Then she tries again. “Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you! Withhim! I can’t watch him die like this—Ican’t?—”
Her sobs cut her off as her whole body quakes through it.
I’d normally tell her to stop crying. The tears would annoy me. Her mention of him would enrage me.
But watching how my world has once again brought anguish to this woman wakes me up like nothing ever has before. It makes me realize this can’t go on anymore.
She’s crying, not for the monster she’s been held captive by, but forhim—and I’ve done nothing but act selfishly every step along the way.
I stand there, my pulse thudding in my ears as I take a deep inhale and let the finality of the moment sink in.
Then I reach for her, palms sliding over her cheeks to draw her toward me. I hold her face in my hands, looking her in the eye through the devil’s mask, yet it doesn’t mean I’m hiding who I am.
It’s the opposite. For the first time, I’m showing her who I really am, letting her see the flawed, fractured man I am as she peers up at me and her jaw quivers.
I silence the next cry to come by pressing my mouth to hers. Portia instantly softens against me, like deep down she knows this might be the last time we ever have a moment like this. Her fingers twine in the fabric of my suit jacket, and I know she feels it too—that this is goodbye.
When I pull back, she releases a sharp little breath like she’s fully accepting the truth.
I strip off my suit jacket and place it around her shoulders, nodding over her head at my men. They understand they’re to get her out of the building.
Stepping toward the ledge where the window should be, I’m graced with the spectacular view of what must be dozens of NPPD officers camped outside. They’ve got squad cars, SWAT trucks, snipers across the building, choppers whirring overhead, spotlights flooding the area.
My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s an unknown number but I answer without hesitation.
“Mr. Calderone,” says the voice on the other end. It’s the negotiator calling to defuse the situation. “This is Lieutenant Abrams with Newport PD. You are surrounded. We both knowyou’re not walking out of here alive unless you put the gun down and come peacefully.”
“I won’t be surrendering,” I answer simply. “If that’s what you’re waiting on, be prepared to wait forever. You’re going to have to come and take me by force.”
“I repeat, you are surrounded. You will not make it out alive.”
“That’s no concern of mine. You won’t be taking me in handcuffs. That’s what you’re not about to do, officer.” I glance over my shoulder to where Portia’s standing swallowed up by my suit jacket, her eyes set on the floor as she cries. “But I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll release her.”
There’s a pause, rustling noises in the background. He’s conferring with some of the others.
“The hostage?” he asks several seconds later.
“She’s not a hostage. And I’m not Rafael Calderone. That’s what you pricks still don’t understand. But I want her safe and unharmed.”
“We’ll take her. She’ll be protected. But I need you to show good faith—no stunts or tricks.”
I almost laugh at that. A police officer talking about not pulling any stunts when their captain was peacocking about the fact he’d get to arrest me.
The biggest mob boss to ever rule Newport.
“She walks away untouched. Completely safe and unharmed,” I repeat. “No guns drawn on her. No cuffs. And no trouble for her after this ordeal is through. Or I’m going to blow your brains out myself.”
The negotiator begrudgingly answers, “Understood. Send the hostage out.”
I hang up on him and turn to the rest of my men.
“We’re going to hand her over.”
The elevator groans as we ride it down to the ground floor where the lobby’s located. We’ve agreed to do the handoff outside the main entrance to the building.
My men have their weapons drawn, and I’m by Portia’s side with mine in hand. Everybody’s silent as we realize what could be coming next.
