Название: Fatal
Автор: Jacqui Rose
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9780008287320
isbn:
Terror rushed through Abel. ‘Let her go! Let her go! I told you, I don’t know where your fucking money is! Jesus Christ, Nico, you sick bastard!’
Nico, bending down to Natalia – whose face, along with her clothes, was covered in blood – stroked her hair, whispering softly. ‘Natalia, you know what needs to happen now, don’t you, but all this could’ve been avoided if he’d only told me what I want to know.’
‘Please, please, Nico, let me go!’
Nico pressed his fingers against her lips. ‘Natalia, it’s no good begging me. It’s out of my hands now. It’s him. Your fiancé you need to beg. Why don’t you ask him to tell me where he’s put it, Natalia? Then all this can just go away.’
Trembling, Natalia stared at Abel, her eyes filled with fear. ‘Just tell him. Tell him what he wants, Abel. Tell him where the money is.’
Nico gestured, chuckling. ‘You heard the lady, tell me.’
Tears rolled down Abel’s face as he stared at Natalia, love and anguish ripping through his body. ‘I don’t have it! I never did! I swear, Natalia! Nico, please don’t do this! Do what you want with me but leave her … Please God, just leave her.’
Nico stared with leisurely contempt. ‘Cosa farai per amore. In Italian that means, what will you do for love? It seems, Natalia, even for love your boyfriend won’t give me back my money. Va bene. All right … Salvatore, care to join me?’
Nico Russo nodded to his brother as he began to undo his trousers as he stood above Natalia. ‘Watch and remember that this was your choice, Abel. All you had to do was tell me the truth. The blame lies with you, and only you.’
‘Don’t you touch her, you hear me? Don’t you fucking touch her!’ Abel struggled against his restraints, each movement sending shooting pains rippling through his body as Natalia, crying and shaking, begged him over and over.
‘Please, Abel, please! Just tell him where the money is! Tell him! Abel, help me! Help me, Abel!’
‘I swear I don’t know, Natalia. Jesus Christ!’
As Nico continued to stand above Natalia smiling, Abel, helpless, stopped struggling, his heart breaking as he realised what was about to happen.
Smirking, Nico spoke in a lulling tone. ‘Now, I want you to be nice, Natalia, you hear me? And Abel, you need to watch this. Don’t close your eyes, because each time you do, I’ll make sure it’ll get a lot worse for her. Capito? Understand? I want you to always remember this.’
Natalia whimpered in terror, then, and without warning, Nico slammed her against the wooden wall. ‘I said, be nice, and then I want you to be nice to my brother Salvatore. Such a pretty little thing, Natalia. You deserve so much better, but in the meantime … Baciami, Natalia. Baciami.’
Natalia stared, frozen.
‘I said, kiss me, Natalia!’
Nico’s fingers caressed her neck as he leant into her chest, kissing it gently.
‘No, Nico! No! Please, don’t! Please … Just tell him! Abel! Abel! Please, just tell him!’
Swallowing his bile, Abel’s voice broke under the weight of his torture. He sobbed as he spoke, crying out. ‘I swear, Natalia, I don’t know … I just don’t know.’
Then, knowing he had no choice but to watch the nightmare unfolding in front of him, Abel whispered, shaking, though his words were drowned out by Natalia’s screams. ‘You shall pay for this, Nico. One day I shall have my revenge. Avrò la mia vendetta.’
Suddenly, Abel’s hand hit something hard, breaking his thoughts, taking him away from the memory that crushed his every breath. With the rain beating down, he brushed off the last bits of soft earth and threw the mud-covered white lilies to one side to reveal the lid of the casket.
‘I’m here, Natalia, I’m here. I won’t leave you in the dark, I promise … I promise.’
And as Abel wept, inconsolable with grief and guilt and love, he gripped the gold handle of the cherry wood casket and began to pull.
Cabhan Morton, a man with trouble on his mind, stepped out from the private luxury wooden lodge into the chill of the summer evening. Shivering in his white linen shirt, he watched the shimmering waters of Grand Lake, nestled at the bottom of the Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.
He let out a long sigh, feeling and pushing down his anxiety as he walked across the deserted glazed timber boardwalk against the backdrop of the snow-tipped mountains. The town of Grand Lake – a tiny community of about five hundred people – was the perfect place, away from prying eyes and ears, for the annual meet-up of the Russo brothers and the extended family. And foolishly, stupidly, through his own doing, he found himself at the heart of them.
If only he’d listened to the warnings; although if he were honest, he’d known the risks of getting involved with the Russos, but at the time he hadn’t cared, hadn’t wanted to listen to anyone. He’d just wanted to escape England then, and all the pain that came with it, but now, now was a different matter.
With his heart rushing in his chest, he glanced back at the lodge, checking no one was coming as he pulled out his phone and dialled a familiar number. He listened as Franny Doyle’s voicemail clicked in straightaway. He needed to speak to her urgently, before it was too late.
‘Franny, it’s me. I’ll try to call you back later, but it’s not looking good at the moment. Seems like Salvatore’s going to make it difficult for me to leave. I’m not sure what I’m going to do … Look, I’ll speak to you soon.’
Scrolling down his contacts, Cabhan hesitated. He stared at Alfie’s number, chewing nervously on his lip. Alfie had been the loudest objector when he’d come to work with the Russos, to the point he’d told him that if Cabhan did join them, Alfie would cut him out of his life, and that’s exactly what had happened. But now he was desperate, so what choice did he have?
Resolute, Cabhan pressed dial, psyching himself up, but this time the phone rang twice before he heard Alfie Jennings chirpily inviting him to leave a message.
Frustrated, he cut off the call as a loud burst of laughter made him spin around. From the shadows, he watched Bobby and Salvatore Russo walking down the stairs of the luxury hideout, deep in conversation.
He’d been here too long. Far too long. And he wanted out, the quicker the better.
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