Page 122 of Hostile Love
When my brother slits his throat and continues to scan the bodies for more survivors, I don’t feel anything other than vindication and a buzz of power.
Mama sits safely on the bride’s side, unfazed. She wasn’t surprised by the attack—and her over cautious bodyguard had understood the brief too.
Shane had automatically pointed his handgun at the pews of slaughtered men, guarding his own family, whereas Blanco lit a fresh cigar and quietly slid his gaze from the carnage to his daughter.
I smile inwardly, toss the Uzi and reach for Dani. Taking her by the hand, I lead her down the middle aisle, both of us stepping over a corpse and stop near her father’s pew.
When Blanco’s brows rise, I lean in and kiss her cheek. She squeezes my hand and whispers, “Be nice.”
I chuckle at that and thumb her hand held in mine.
“Daniela is loyal to you, Blanco, but she will stand beside me forever. Rest assured; our families aren’t enemies anymore. But never forget this day because that…” I point at the massacre. “…is the future for anyone who crosses a Souza. And for the record, my future wife will take my family’s name, not yours. Daniela ismine.”
Blanco puffs on his cigar and glares back at me. I bet he’d love to challenge me right now. But he knows better.
Tomás appears beside us. He’s already dumped his Uzi and causally fixes his diamond cufflinks as he waits for me to finish.
“Mama,” he calls to her. “Come here.”
Our mother peels herself off the bench, draws back her shoulders, and side steps her way into the middle aisle to join us.
Her thin heels clip against the stone slabs underfoot and her putty-colored lips curl ever so slightly at the corners.
I sense André and Giovanni move into position behind us, as we face our family and friends. They were never under any threat, but the message is clear to everyone here.
“Grandfather,” Tomás proclaims, projecting his voice into the metallic scented air. “Our mother was born a Hennessey, however, she’s a Souza first and foremost. We are her only priority, and she is ours.”
Conal sighs and glares at us over Shane’s shoulder.
“We didn’t need to be here for this bullshit,” he bites out.
Tomás shrugs. “I disagree. Elias Souza was your puppet, Uncle Con. He’s dead and I run the show now. And I’m no fucking puppet.”
Our grandfather's brows drift up and a slow smirk twitches over his thin lips.
“Congratulations, my boy. You’ve become everything I hoped you would be. A natural leader and a very powerful man. Word to the wise though, Tommy boy, you’re standing amongst the people who put you where you are today and supported you every step of the way. You’d do well to remember that.”
Tomás glances at me and nods. “Familiatakes precedence.”
“Where is your bride?” Grandfather asks, unscrewing the cap of his hip flask and taking a swig of liquor. “Will we get to meet your woman?”
“She’s miles away from here,” Tomás says. “We’ve decided to have a ceremony where access is strictly limited. Believe me, you’d hate where we’re going next.”
“Fine. I’ll have to meet this woman of yours one day. Bring her to Dublin after your honeymoon.”
Grandfather’s eyes move across the faces before him and settle on Dani.
“I thought your kid was younger, Blanco?” he asks.
Blanco exhales smoke. “She was a late surprise.”
“Interesting.” My grandfather rises and stretches his back, obviously stiff from sitting. “Seems like my grandsons have made their choices.”
He waves his hand at Conal, gesturing to him to move out of the pew so he can get to us. Once he’s fixed his suit jacket and necktie, he holds out his hand to Tomás.
“We’ll be expecting your arrival in a few weeks.”
They shake hands.
