“My father was working with the Syndicate for a long time,” he explained to her. “And he wasn’t alone. The organization wouldn’t want someone disagreeable in power in the Outfit. Whoever their mole is would have been waiting for an opportunity to eliminate me.”
“So, you handed it to them on a platter by traveling alone to Los Fortis,” Amara finished, comprehending exactly what he was saying. God, how could she have forgotten he was such a good player? Something akin to pride filled her.
“I hadn’t anticipated them taking you.”
“Still well played, my king,” she whispered, a small smile on her face. “What are you waiting for now?”
“For them to come to the room, to interrogate me,” he told her calmly. “I’ll be leading them. Though they’ll probably hit me a little, I need you to stay calm and keep working on the ropes. Had I been alone, I wouldn’t have worried. But you and-”
“I know,” the smile dipped from her face, her stomach turning. “I’ll try. It’s just this place, I can’t control my responses.”
“This hell is my kingdom now, Amara,” he told her, his eyes solemn. “As long as I’m alive, it won’t touch you. And I intend to live a very long, very happy life with you.”
The knot she’d been holding inside her melted a bit. Even in the middle of her hell, Amara felt a feeling of safety wash over her.
Taking a deep breath in, she nodded and began to work on the ropes.
She was trying. Dante could see the toll it was taking on her mind, being in this place, tied to a chair, pregnant with their child.
Pregnant.
She was fucking pregnant and she hadn’t told him. Albeit he’d been playing dead for most of the time, it enraged him. That last time he’d gone to see her had been an impulse. He’d wanted to be with her, touch her, just one more time in case he actually died and never got that chance again. He hadn’t meant to see her, much less push her against the wall, fuck her raw, and leave. That had been a dick move, he admitted that. But they’d made a baby, their baby. Fuck, that did things to him, knowing the queen of his heart was going to be the mother of his child.
And what an amazing mother she would be. She had been raised by a loving woman and magnified it tenfold within her. Amara was a woman born with an instinct to nurture – the weak, the innocent, the helpless. She was soft and so fucking forgiving, or else she would have kicked his ass to the curb a long time ago. The fact that she had packed up and moved thousands of miles away to protect their child filled him with pride and warmth. She was a tigress with her cubs. Finding her in Los Fortis, knowing this time he was keeping her, knowing he didn’t have to leave her again, had been the single-most rewarding moment of his life.
But that little blood on her thighs worried him. He knew there could be a little spotting, and this was an incredibly stressful situation, but fuck, Dante hated putting her through this. He hadn’t anticipated that they would take her, or that they would bring them to this location.
Although why had they brought them to this specific location? Something about that bugged Dante.
Hopefully, Morana already had the mole singled out. She’d been monitoring every outgoing call and message from the compound since he’d been back. He just hoped the fuckers who abducted them came to interrogate him soon so he could get Amara out of the place. Knowing everything that had happened to her here, he couldn’t even imagine everything happening inside her mind right then. Her eyes kept zoning in and out as she fought her demons, the scar on her neck stark against her paling skin, her hands gripping the chair with white knuckles.
Dante watched her closely. Knowing she was pregnant changed things. If he saw the slightest sign of things becoming too much, he’d have to figure some way out. The idiots hadn’t even checked him for weapons, assuming he’d been unarmed since he’d been in bed shirtless. He had a nasty little surprise waiting for them.
As if on cue, the door to the room opened. Amara’s eyes flew to it as she jumped a bit, her grip on the chair tightening before she visibly took a deep breath.
Hold on, baby. Just a little longer, Dante urged her silently.
Her breasts heaved under his shirt as she worked on her breathing, her eyes on the man who entered the room. Dante let his eyes go from her and focused on the man, switching gears in his mind. This was his interrogation.
Relaxing in the chair, he stayed silent as the stranger came in, wearing a black t-shirt and cargo pants and combat boots, a 9mm visible on his hip. It was a classic tactic – show the captive you were armed to instill fear of death. Dante was well-versed in these maneuvers. He stayed silent, watching the guy.
He squat down a few feet from him, ignoring Amara for now, focusing on him, which was good. He didn’t want them paying her any attention.
“Dante Maroni,” the man said in a singsong tone, the hint of an accent in his voice on the ‘t’. “In the flesh.”
“Oh, you’re a fan?” Dante chuckled easily. “You’ll have to free my hands for an autograph.” Let him think he had the power.
The man gave a grin, a fake gold tooth glinting on the side. Dante wished some stereotypes weren’t so cliché. “My bosses aren’t a fan. In fact, they aren’t very happy with you right now. You’re interfering with the business.”
Just the opening he needed. “You know, this is why people think mobsters don’t have manners. They could just have booked an appointment if they wanted to talk,” he drawled out casually.
The man tilted his head to the side. “Alright, so that’s how we’re playing this.” He straightened, walking towards Amara. Dante forced himself to stay relaxed as the man squat before her.
“You’re a pretty one,” he said conversationally. “I heard they did terrible things to you right here in this place. How does it feel to be back?”
Dante watched Amara still, watching him like a hawk, her gaze never straying from the man. “You guys need to stop tying women up. It’s getting old.”
That’s my girl. Dante felt pride fill him as he watched her play, hyper-focused on the man.
The man laughed. “Feisty. You think your boyfriend here will give me answers if I do things to you, hmm?”
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” Amara told the guy, staying calmer than Dante had hoped. “We just fuck occasionally.”
Like hell they did.
The man leaned closer to her. Dante tensed.
“In that case, fucking me in front of him shouldn’t be an issue.”
Oh, the bastard was good. But his girl was better.
“It would be,” Amara shrugged. “I’m allergic to assholes. Trauma and all, you know.”
The man let out a laugh, turning to look back at Dante. “I like her. Too bad I’ll have to hurt her to get you talking.”
Dante stayed silent, giving him a little smirk, ready to distract him so Amara could work on her knot inconspicuously. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Bringing us both here, using her to threaten me. Nice.”
The man stood up, walking to a table on the side, with a toolbox. Dante watched as Amara paled, a fine sheen of sweat on her face as she watched the table. He watched her take a quick breath, and slowly tug her hands against the ropes, loosening them even more. His gut tightened. He needed to speed it up.