It was Marge’s turn to pale. She looked between Dario and Val and then at the dead men on the floor. She raised her head and looked around the room, taking in the silent army of men watching her. Watching Aldo. Some silently moving out of the back office. Behind the bar. They were cleaning out the stacks of cash from the vaults. She sagged as realization hit. Val found some small satisfaction in seeing Marge finally get it: That no one was coming to her rescue. That she would be turned over to Dario for interrogation. That there was no out for her no matter what she threatened. Dario would extract the information.
She would tell him lies to begin with, but in the end, she would give him the truth. They always did. Valentino didn’t find it to be true, that torture didn’t work. Pain won out. You just had to be good enough to know the difference between what they thought you wanted to hear, what they were programmed to tell you and what was the actual truth. In other words, you had to be able to hear those lies. He was adept at it, and Dario was particularly good at it as well.
“I only know that Miceli likes to keep the little girls close to him. He’s afraid the men might get crazy and ruin them before he can sell them,” Aldo whispered hoarsely. “His sons control the kids. I don’t know nothing about that.”
“Where does Miceli keep the girls?” Valentino pushed. These were thirteen-and fourteen-year-old girls sold as virgins in an auction. He knew that Miceli had them already because the auction had been slated to take place. Word had gone out. Val had pushed his investigation in order to find a way to rescue the girls.
“I don’t know exactly.” Aldo’s gaze shifted to Marge. “She knows.”
Marge shrieked at him, something unintelligible, and then tried to fly at him. Two of Val’s men stopped her. She fought them, kicking and twisting. Val glanced up to see Ricco Ferraro standing behind Aldo. He was a silent wraith. Val moved away, allowing the attention of the room to stay on Marge as Ricco caught Aldo’s head between his hands and delivered the killing break to his neck, murmuring, “Justice is served.”
“Get some control, Marge,” Val advised. “Did you believe you’d never have to pay for your sins? Or did you think Marco would suddenly materialize and protect you?” He gave her a cruel smile. He threw the name out there in hopes that she would give him more information. “You let Miceli lull you into a false sense of security. Didn’t you remember what Giuseppi was like in the old days, when he killed entire families? When he left bodies on doorsteps in pieces? Each of the families has an army to call on, and they’re large, but no one has what we have. They can’t do what we do. That’s why we’ve been around for hundreds of years.”
He heard Aldo’s body drop to the floor. He didn’t turn around. Marge had gone still, her body between the two large men who held her prisoner.
“You can’t go to war with everyone, Valentino. Miceli has turned half of your own crew against you.”
He smiled at her again, his shark’s smile. “They’re already dead. It wasn’t hard to find them. Money trails are easy, Marge. So are pussy trails. The ones who like to play usually frequent your playhouse right here. Men break easily enough with a little persuasion.”
“You think you can fight both your uncle and Marco Messina at the same time? Marco will eat you alive.”
Valentino didn’t allow his shock to show on his face. Tibberiu Messina was the head of the very prominent Messina crime family with a large territory. They didn’t wage war. They didn’t need to. Marco, his youngest son, was well educated, ran in prominent circles, was engaged to his college sweetheart, an heiress to some kind of candy fortune. By all accounts, the two were very happy. Tibberiu had four sons. The other three were balls deep in the family business, hard as nails. Val could see one of them involved in this mess, maybe even branching out on their own, but not Marco. That made no sense at all. Even so, he kept every thought locked up tight behind an expressionless mask.
Marge’s venomous gaze swept past him and locked on Emmanuelle. “You.” She spat the word. “Do you have any idea what he truly thinks of you? Val uses people. He uses women to get what he wants. They all do. Do you really believe he’s any different than his uncle is? He spent weeks cultivating me, flirting, sweet-talking, until all I could think about was him. I did anything and everything he asked me to do. Hours and hours of fucking. I knew he was seeing you. I asked him about you. He told me you were nothing to him, that his father told him to get information from you. I believed him.”
Valentino didn’t dare glance over his shoulder and look at his woman—his wife. Marge was telling enough of the truth that it was the truth to her. Her voice rang with it. Worse, it would play right into Emme’s insecurities as a woman. Those terrible insecurities her mother had worked so hard to instill in her from the time she was a toddler. He wanted to wrap his hands around Marge’s neck and squeeze until there was no life left.
“He cast me aside just the way he’ll cast you aside the moment he has no more use for you. Right now, he’s got your family as allies, and he needs them, doesn’t he? Don’t you see? He’s desperate for allies. He can’t trust that many people, and your family is considered the sacred gold mine. I can’t believe he actually brought it off. The big investment. He hit pay dirt, didn’t he? Oh my God, Valentino, you did what no one else managed to do: you caught the elusive Emmanuelle fucking Ferraro.”
“Four minutes,” Luca said in his ear.
Valentino wasn’t certain he could last four minutes without strangling Marge. Maybe he should have one of the men put her to sleep. Vittorio had come up behind her. Mariko had also. Vittorio didn’t have an expression on his face, but Mariko was looking at him with open suspicion. He couldn’t blame her. Every word Marge said made sense.
There wasn’t the slightest stirring behind him as if Emmanuelle held herself very still. Damn it, they were past all of this. She knew how much he loved her. She had to know. Marge was striking out, trying to rip them apart, trying to find a way to hurt him, because she knew she was going to die and there was no way out for her.
Dario appeared out of nowhere. He walked with that predatory, jungle-cat way he had, stalking Marge, his eyes focused completely on her face. Val could see her attention instantly switch to him. Every hair stood up on her body. She looked scared to death. If the two men hadn’t been holding her up, she might have fallen. As it was, the smell of urine was suddenly strong in the room.
Dario’s eyebrow shot up. “Marge.” He said her name softly. Gently. Almost tenderly. “I don’t like the things you’re saying to Emme. You’re deliberately trying to hurt her. She’s someone I like, and I don’t like very many people. I’d watch what I say because I’m taking note and adding on to your days and nights of excruciating pain. You already deserve so much. Do you really want more?”
Marge shook her head over and over, sagging between the two men. Dario patted her cheeks and indicated the door. “Go quietly, Marge. Don’t give them any trouble. If they have to sedate you, the drug they use will make you very ill. That will just compound how you will feel when we have our little chat together.”
He stepped back.