When He Takes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 2)

It’s still dark outside when I step out onto the street. Ferraro told me to be ready at seven a.m., so here I am. My gun’s tucked behind my belt, and I’m wearing a comfortable suit and my favorite pair of leather wingtips.

The only thing missing is my wedding band.

I only wore it for the few days it took us to drive here from Vegas, but I got used to it, and I miss not having it on my finger.

It’ll be a while before I can put it back on. I’ve got no idea what made Gino decide against pulling the trigger, and I could tell Rafe doesn’t either. Until I determine what Ferraro’s got planned for me, it’s better if they don’t know Blake exists.

She doesn’t want to be stuck inside all day. I get it. But her happiness is secondary to keeping her safe. I’ll do everything I can to make her comfortable while I figure out the deal with Ferraro.

And maybe it’s naïve, but I still have hope for us. I’ve got a new lease on life, so to speak, and I’m feeling optimistic. I’ll start earning back her trust, bit by bit.

It’ll be a steep fucking hill to climb, that’s for sure. But I didn’t get this second chance for nothing.

I pull out my phone and check to see if I got a response from Rafe to the message I sent when I woke up this morning. Blake needs things, and I’ve got no way of getting them to her today while I’m busy with my new employer.

A black car pulls up to the curb in front of me, and the door opens, signaling for me to get in.

I hop into the passenger seat and come face-to-face with Cosimo Ferraro.

Just great.

I fucking hate the guy. He takes himself way too fucking seriously.

The eldest Ferraro son scans me over, his lips drawing into a thin line. “It really is you.”

“Back to the land of the living.” I clip in my seat belt.

“If I were the head of the family, I would have ended you as soon as you reappeared.”

“Good thing you’re not.”

His fingers twitch. He’s probably daydreaming about strangling me right here in the passenger seat.

“My father is too forgiving, but me and my brothers are not.” He presses on the gas and merges into the traffic, taking us toward the Brooklyn Bridge. “If you think this is going to be easy, you’re in for a very unpleasant surprise.”

“Shame, I was hoping for a spa day with the boys, maybe a couple’s massage. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Funny,” Cosimo says dryly. “You’ve always had a sense of humor.”

“And you’ve always had a stick up your ass.”

“Watch it. I’m your boss now.”

“I think Gino’s my boss. And given the current situation, I think you’re my driver.”

Cosimo’s jaw clenches. I know I’m pushing it, but I can’t resist getting him riled up. He’s an easy target, the same way most firstborn sons are before they finally get the role they’re groomed for their entire lives.

To his credit, instead of reacting to my jibes, he simply ignores me for the rest of the half-hour drive.

We pull into the parking lot of a warehouse. It’s got a red-brick facade, dusty windows, and looks completely abandoned.

Maybe Cosimo’s decided to go against his father and off me after all.

“What is this place?”

“Alessio calls it his palace,” Cosimo says.

An uneasy feeling slides down my back. Alessio is Cosimo’s brother and the main enforcer for the Ferraros. Everyone knows he isn’t quite right in the head.

We get out of the car and walk all the way to the back of the warehouse where there’s a heavy steel door. Cosimo bangs on it twice.

“What are we doing here?”

Cosimo turns to look at me, his eyes swimming with satisfaction. He can’t kill me, but I can tell he thinks whatever they’ve got planned for me is almost as good. “You’re going to work for Alessio.”

Fuck me. No wonder he looks so pleased.

The man himself opens the door and immediately sizes me up.

I do the same. It’s interesting to compare the two brothers. Cosimo is all business with his pressed suit, crisp white shirt, and combed back dark hair. Put him in khakis and a polo, and he’d fit right in at Harvard or Princeton.

Alessio, on the other hand, wouldn’t fit in… well, anywhere.

The man’s covered in tattoos, all the way from his neck to his fingertips, and he’s got the kind of energy that makes anyone remotely sane want to skedaddle. There’s very little human hiding behind those freakishly light-gray eyes. He’s wearing a dark pair of jeans, a leather apron tied around his waist, and no shirt.

There are red streaks on his hands and arms.

Blood.

“Is this my new errand boy?” His voice has a rasp to it. He’s not as tall as me, not as wide either, but there’s a glint in his eyes that immediately puts me on edge.

It’s one thing to be willing to torture and kill for the job. It’s another to take pleasure from it. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times when cracking someone’s bones has brought me pure joy, but it’s rare, and only when it’s personal. Like it was with those fucking Iron Raptors. I enjoyed every bit of killing those fucks.

Alessio’s different. He’s extreme. Unhinged. He makes a meal out of every kill. He’s famous for it.

Cosimo nods. “In the flesh.”

Alessio doesn’t offer me his hand. His eyes bore into me as he steps aside and lets us pass through the doorway.

A chemical smell immediately invades my nostrils. Disinfectant mixed with something else. The hallway Cosimo leads me down has a slope to it, like we’re moving underground.

I try to piece together what the Ferraros might be doing. Rafe told Gino I’d make a good asset, but Gino’s not going to give me any power in his organization. That’s obvious. It doesn’t matter how smart I am, or how experienced, or how quickly I think on my feet. This business is all about trust, and the Ferraros don’t trust me.

So what kind of work is Alessio going to give me?

We take a turn, then another. The wall on the right is lined with steel cage lights that give off an eerie yellow glow. The chemical smell only gets stronger the longer we walk.

We’re definitely underground now. There are no sounds coming in from the outside, but I pick up on a strange noise up ahead.

Moans.

I frown. I’m not afraid—I came back to New York ready to die—but this is just fucking creepy.

Alessio’s steps are steady behind me. “We’re here,” he announces just as the hallway opens up to a large room, and we step inside it.

Fuck me.

The scene is straight out of a slasher flick.

There’s a big cage with a naked man inside it. He’s holding a pair of pliers in his hand, and by the look of it, he’s been hard at work pulling out his own teeth.

For whatever reason, the sight of me gives him hope. “Please help!” he calls out in a Russian accent.

I ignore him and glance back at Alessio, waiting for him or his brother to tell me what the fuck I’m doing here.

“Heeelp!”

Jesus, read the room.

Alessio doesn’t seem to register the man’s cries. He scans me with a detached look. “The Bratva’s pakhan has scores of men, and he’s not shy about sending them on suicide missions. Most are too junior to know anything, but you never know, so we’ve got to bring them in.”

“Can’t cut any corners,” Cosimo adds.

“I delegate everything I can to other people in the organization, but I do the interrogations myself.”

“Alessio’s the best,” Cosimo says thoughtfully, his eyes on the man with the missing teeth.

“This is your second chance,” Alessio says. “You don’t get any more. One fuckup, and you’re out for good. You understand?”

I nod. I wasn’t expecting anything different. “What do you need me to do?”

“Whatever I tell you to.”

Cosimo glances at his watch. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve got to go meet Mom for breakfast. You coming tonight, Les? You know she doesn’t like it when you skip out on holidays.”

Alessio appears to think for a second, and then he nods. “Okay. I’ll be there. With Nero’s help, I should be done in time.”

“Great.” Cosimo turns and leaves without another word. Good riddance.

“So what’s going on here?” I gesture at his prisoner.

“I told him I’d decrease the process by one minute for every tooth he pulls out.”

“The process?”

“I remove some body parts and keep them alive while I do it.”

Christ. What happened to a good old-fashioned beating? “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“This one killed one of our guys by shooting him in the back. Nothing I hate more than cowards,” Alessio explains.

“Sure. Makes sense.” It doesn’t make any sense.

“Well, have a seat. This might take a while.”

It does take a while. Six hours precisely. Six hours during which I get a front row seat to this psycho’s interrogation methods, excluding the half hour I take to go pick him up some lunch.

I have to give it to him. He knows what he’s doing. The prisoner sings all of his secrets like a little bird.

When Alessio finally puts his tools down, I give him a weary look. “What now?”

He takes off his apron and drops it to the ground. “You’re on cleanup duty. I’ll be in my office. Come by when you’re finished.”

I glance around. Blood, guts, and teeth. I haven’t had to do this kind of shit since the very early days when I was at the very bottom of the ladder.

It takes me another four hours to clean everything. I have to saw the dude into parts and put them into vats of acid. It’s the hardest work I’ve done in ages.

By the end of it, my body’s sweating and sore. Blood’s caked under my nails. I seriously regret wearing nice clothes this morning. They’re ruined. Everything’s going straight into the fucking furnace.

I enter the adjacent office to tell Alessio I’m finished. He’s on his laptop, playing Sims from the look of it. I walk closer and study the screen. It’s a farm at the foot of a mountain, with sheep and cows and horses milling around. There’s a barn and a guy on a red tractor.

Okay then.

“I’m done.”

He turns on his gaming chair and steeples his hands in front of him. He’s changed into a threadbare black T-shirt that’s peppered with holes. “Good. You’re ready for your next task then.”

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. “What is it?”

“I heard you box.”

“I did before I left.”

“You any good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He stands up, and his desk chair swivels behind him. “Follow me.”

He leads me down a hall and into a pitch-black room. When he flicks on the lights, I see it’s a gym.

It’s huge.

Rows of equipment fill up the side closer to us, and farther up is an elevated boxing ring. Alessio walks around it and takes some hand wraps and gloves out of a plastic bin. “Here.”

“This is my next task? Boxing with you?”

Alessio shrugs. “I need a partner. My brothers are busy, and I don’t have many friends.”

That’s the least surprising thing I’ve heard all day. Did Gino spare me so that his not-all-there son would have a buddy? No fucking way.

I glance down at my ruined dress shirt and pants. “You have something I can change into?”

He nods and rummages through another box before pulling out a pair of shorts. “Here.”

Five minutes later, we’ve both changed, our hands are wrapped, and we’re ready to fight.

I flex my toes against the padding on the floor. It’s been months since I’ve done this, but it’s no different than slipping on an old pair of shoes. Even if I’m not in the kind of shape I was before I left New York, I’m bigger than Alessio, and in boxing, your arm span is one of the biggest adva—

Pain explodes inside my brow. I stagger back, blinking against the blood dripping into my fucking eye.

“Fuck!”

Alessio cocks a brow. “Did you want me to announce when I’m about to hit you?”

Of course this crazy bastard would skip a warmup.

All right. If he wants to go hard, we’ll go hard.

I don’t make the same mistake twice. I advance on him, throwing him jab after jab, but he’s a quick motherfucker. Whatever advantage I have in size, he’s got the same if not greater when it comes to speed.

The first time I land a good one against his mouth, he grins. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, and it’s plain disturbing, especially with the blood coating his teeth.

Doesn’t he have a dinner to go to after this? It’s New Year’s Eve.

And what do you have waiting for you?

Home.

Blake.

This morning, right before I left, I stole a glance inside her room while she was sleeping.

Her bruised face is still a stark reminder of the pain I’ve caused her. Of the amends I have to make.

My mood darkens. I want to go home, but a part of me feels like I don’t deserve to be there. With Rafe helping me arrange all the gifts, she’s got everything she needs in the penthouse with her already.

Did seeing all the books I got her make her happy? Will that happiness disappear the moment I show up? Maybe I should let her just enjoy it for a little while.

I beckon Alessio closer. “C’mon.”

He dances around me, feigning left and right, and I can see the sweat on his brow glistening under the lights.

I lunge forward with a hook, but he dodges with a flicker of speed and lands a solid punch to my jaw. My head snaps back, and I stumble and grab the ropes to keep myself upright.

Everything falls away except for the pain and the man in front of me.

This is what I need. A way to do penance. A way to pay for my sins.

The next time Alessio moves to hit me, I don’t block him. His fist connects with my abdomen, forcing the breath out of my lungs. Then again, and again, and again.

The next punch he throws at my head sends me to the ground. The pain in my jaw is so blinding that for a moment, I wonder if he broke it. My bloody spit collects on the mat. I push myself up using my gloved fist and move my jaw back and forth.

Still attached.

Alessio’s feet appear in front of me. “You tapping out?”

I shake my head at the ground. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” I snap and roll away from him. My body hums with pain, but I get back on my feet.

We start circling each other, and I dodge a few of his hits before I let him land one on me. Then another.

The next time I end up on the ground, Alessio crouches down beside me.

“There aren’t many men in this city who don’t know your reputation, Nero.”

With a groan, I turn onto my back and meet his cool, assessing gaze.

“That Labor Day, when the city was this close to going up in flames, it was you against six men.”

I spit out blood. “Seven.”

“That was the night you got your nickname. The Angel of Death.”

“If you ask me, there isn’t much angelic about death.”

“I agree.” Alessio cocks his head. “Are you out of practice, or are you going easy on me?”

“Does it matter?” With effort, I get back on my feet. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll be useless to me with a broken arm or leg.”

I give him a dark smile. “Then don’t break ’em.”