Seductive sin, p.15
Seductive Sin, page 15
“You may enter,” the voice finally responds.
The gates creak open, beckoning me forward.
I drive through, up a circular driveway, and an armed guard gestures me to a parking spot outside the mansion. I step out of the car, and an eerie silence hangs in the air, as if the whole of the estate is holding its breath.
The mansion itself is beautiful. The warm, earthy tones of the stucco walls are speckled with arched windows, and the entire structure is crowned with a red-tiled roof. Lush landscaping encircles the building, with beautifully trimmed gardens filled with classical Roman-style fountains, statues, and pathways. The whole house is probably gorgeous in the daytime.
However, in the black of night, it might as well be Dracula’s castle, luring me in with the sole intention of bleeding me dry.
“This way,” the guard says.
An armed escort.
Yeah, I’ve seen this before.
The mansion may look all glitzy and elegant from the outside, but the inside is a prison.
Just like the McAllister manse when Savannah was their prisoner.
Vincent Gallo’s no prisoner, of course, but his wife most likely is.
Then again, this security isn’t made to keep prisoners in. No, it’s made to keep intruders out.
Potato po-tah-to.
The guard navigates me through a metal detector.
“Do you have anything in your pockets?” he asks.
“Just my phone, wallet, and keys.”
“Give them to me.”
I surrender the items out of my pockets. He looks them over, examining every inch of my wallet, even pulling out a few dollar bills and examining them closely.
He then looks at my phone, turning the screen on and off.
“All clear. Please walk through the metal detector.”
I do so. It doesn’t beep, thank God.
“Please put your arms out, sir.”
For Christ’s sake.
“Are you going to pat me down?”
“If you want to visit with Mr. Gallo, yes.”
“But I went through the metal detector. It didn’t beep.”
“This is protocol, sir. Would you like to leave?”
I sigh. “No I wouldn’t.”
I put my arms out. The guard squats down and pats my legs, thighs, and hips thoroughly. He then looks over my chest and shoulders. When he’s done, he takes a step back.
“Right this way, sir.”
“Can I have my phone back?”
“Only once you leave. Mr. Gallo does not allow photos to be taken in his private residence.”
“What if I promise not to take any photos?”
“You may still leave if you do not want to adhere to the rules of the house.”
God damn it all.
“Fine.”
It’s worth it to talk to the piece of shit who calls himself Savannah’s father.
Of course, I’m not laboring under any delusion that Gallo will tell me what’s going on. Hell, he may not even listen to me. Mostly likely, he’ll try strong-arming me into some kind of submission.
But he hasn’t met Savage.
Once we reach the door, the guard rings the bell.
A tuxedoed butler answers.
“Mr. Falcon Bellamy,” the guard says.
The butler nods. “Of course, Mr. Bellamy. Please come in. I’m Ferguson, the Gallos’ butler.”
Ferguson reminds me of Nana’s old butler, Laurence. Is he even still alive? We never had a butler at our place. My father was a little more down to earth, though we did have a live-in housekeeper and nanny while we kids were little, though Mom felt that raising us was her responsibility.
I enter the opulent mansion, the air heavy with the scent of wealth and power. My footsteps echo off the marble floors as Ferguson leads me to a study where Savannah’s father—presumably—sits behind a giant wooden desk.
“Mr. Bellamy,” he says coolly, his expression guarded.
“Mr. Gallo,” I reply, keeping my voice low and determined. Thank you for seeing me hovers on my tongue, but instead, “We need to talk.”
He raises an eyebrow but remains tight-lipped, his face a mask of indifference. But his eyes betray a flicker of unease.
“About what?” he asks, his tone clipped.
“About Savannah’s forced marriage,” I say, my gaze never leaving his.
The tension in the room rises as we lock eyes, each of us unwilling to back down. But I know I must press further, break through his defenses, and get to the truth.
“Tell me,” I demand. “Why are you doing this? What do you stand to gain?”
He speaks in an even tone. “I don’t see how this is any of your business. It’s between the McAllisters and my family.”
“What about Savannah? What about what she wants?”
He stares me down. “You think I’d let her marry you? You’re a criminal.”
I let out a laughing scoff. “You really want to go there, Gallo? Don’t you think that’s the pot calling the kettle black?”
No reaction.
“Besides, if you’ve had me checked out, as I’m sure you have, you know I’m innocent.”
“Doesn’t matter. On paper, you’re guilty.” He shuffles through some paperwork. “You confessed. And I’ve never even been under arrest.”
“You want to play that hand already? You kidnapped your own daughter.”
“From what I understand, she went willingly.”
She did, at that. “You sent armed thugs to my place to take her.”
“Did I?” He widens his eyes in a ridiculous attempt to look innocent. “That’s the first I’ve heard of such a thing.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “And I’m just that gullible. They may have been the McAllisters’ men, but you and I both know what’s going on here.” I stand up and slam my hands on the desk, causing a few knickknacks to fall to the floor. “Tell me what it will take to free Savannah from whatever deal you made with the McAllisters. I’ll pay anything. Do anything.”
He eyes my fists but does not stand. “Stay out of what doesn’t concern you.”
“Come on, Gallo,” I urge him, my voice low. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Gallo’s mask slips for a minute. Is that a flicker of regret I see in his dark eyes?
“You think I don’t love my daughter,” he finally says. “You’re wrong.”
I open my mouth to tell him he’s full of shit, but then I think about Savannah.
Her father got her out of the marriage at eighteen. He somehow—after locking her into a meeting room with no means of communication—got her out of the marriage at twenty-two as well.
“Then what’s really going on here?” I ask. “I love Savannah, and I swear to God I will not let her become some slave to Miles McAllister.”
He sighs then, rises, and walks out from behind his desk. “This isn’t something you’ll understand, Mr. Bellamy. This isn’t your world.”
I grit my teeth. “Savannah is my world.”
“And you think she’s not mine? She’s my only daughter. I’ve already lost both my sons. She’s all I have left. My legacy.”
“So you sold her to the highest bidder?”
“Damn it!” His fist comes down hard on his hardwood desk. “You really think this is that simple, don’t you?”
I take a step toward him. I’m taller than he is, broader. But I don’t underestimate him. He’s powerful. And in his eyes is a hint of desperation.
That’s what this is about.
Never underestimate a desperate man. He’s already lost two sons. In organized crime, women are worth less than men. He may truly feel he’s got nothing left to lose.
“Miles McAllister tried to rape her that night,” I say quietly, taking another step. “My buddy and I got to her before that happened, thank God, and I swear to you, if that piece of shit ever lays another hand on her, I’ll take care of him myself.”
Gallo’s gaze falls to a bookcase in his office.
Are there hidden cameras and microphones in this office?
Of course there are.
“Watch what you say in this office, Mr. Bellamy.”
Yeah, not smart. The whole place is probably wired.
“Nothing I say here will ever be admissible in a court of law. You and I both know that.”
“You think I give two shits about any court of law?”
Good point. This is a man who’s selling his daughter into matrimony. Clearly the law doesn’t trouble him. Not a bit.
“I want answers.” I demand. “Savannah herself thinks there’s more at play here. You let her off twice, and then you let her out of family obligations for good when she moved to Summer Creek. Why the fucking change of heart, Gallo?”
He stares at me, his face unchanging.
But he’s not indifferent. Not by a longshot. His eyes flicker with unease. I can recognize almost any look on a person’s face after my time inside. My life and the lives of the guys on my cellblock depended on it.
“Look, Bellamy,” he says, his voice calm but strained. “There are things at play here that you don’t understand. Things that go beyond a simple marriage alliance between families.”
I narrow my eyes, attempting to read between the lines. So Savannah was right. What is her father hiding?
“Enlighten me, then,” I say, my tone firm. “You promised Savannah her freedom, and now you’ve reneged. You sent fucking gunmen to my place to take her.”
He presses his lips together. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“Do I look like I care?” I point at him. “This is all on you, Gallo. Your daughter’s trauma is on you.”
Gallo goes back behind his desk, sits in his chair, steepling his fingers.
“Listen,” he says, his voice taking on a softer edge. “I know you care for Savannah. And I do too. But there are forces at work here that we can’t control. And sometimes, sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
I clench my hands into fists. Sacrifices? What kind of twisted logic is that?
“Savannah is not a sacrifice,” I say through gritted teeth. “She’s a woman. A person. A human being. She’s your fucking daughter.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but I hear nothing.
I see nothing.
Nothing but blackness.
26
SAVANNAH
Vinnie makes us a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, but I can’t eat. Worry about Falcon consumes me. It’s nine o’clock, and he hasn’t checked in.
He said he was going to Austin.
Where both my family and the McAllisters live.
I don’t think he’d go back to the McAllisters’ place. Why would he? He got me out, and they’ve surely enhanced their security since he broke through it.
Is he going to talk to my father? Give him a piece of his mind about everything that he’s put me through since I got to my new job?
If that’s the case, I’d like to think my father wouldn’t harm him…but I’m not that naïve. Not anymore. I’ve been forced to see a side of my father that I’d blinded myself to by choice. My daddy. My daddy who I thought loved me.
Now I wonder if the man is even capable of love.
“Try to eat, Sav,” Vinnie urges. “You won’t be any good to anyone without adequate energy.”
He’s right, of course. It’s the same reason I ate the salmon that night at the McAllisters’. I needed my strength, and it ended up saving me from a brutal rape.
I twist my spaghetti around my fork and bring it to my mouth. The pasta is cooked perfectly, and the sauce is robust and flavorful, but it’s all mush in my mouth. Still, I chew and swallow and then twirl some more onto my fork.
“Good?” Vinnie asks.
I simply nod.
“You need to trust him,” he says. “Trust that he’s doing what he thinks is right.”
“What if—”
He raises a hand to stop me. “No what ifs, Sav. It’ll kill you. You think I haven’t gone there a million times in my own head? It doesn’t change a damned thing.”
He’s right, of course. I take another bite when—
Falcon’s satellite phone vibrates.
“Thank God!” I grab it without looking at the number. “Falcon?”
Silence on the other end of the line.
I quickly put it on speaker and press my fingers to my lips so Vinnie knows not to speak.
“Falcon, are you there?” I glance at the number then.
It’s not Falcon’s.
Fuck.
“Who is this?” I demand.
“We have him,” says a voice I don’t recognize. “I’m sending an address. Get there as soon as you can.”
My heart goes wild as fear slides into me. The few bites of spaghetti tumble in my stomach. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”
“That depends on you.” The phone clicks off.
I gulp audibly. “Vinnie?” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”
He darts his gaze around the room. “He’d want you to stay here.”
“Can they track me?”
He shakes his head. “That’s a satellite phone. They can’t track it. Otherwise they wouldn’t have told you to come. They’d come after you.”
Yes, yes. Of course he’s right.
“How did they get this number?”
“They either held a gun to his head and he gave it to them…”
I shake my head. “No. He wouldn’t do that. Not Falcon.”
“Sav, when there’s a gun to your head, and you’re faced with—”
“Just shut up, Vinnie!” I yell. “Falcon wouldn’t. He’d protect me at all costs.”
Vinnie sighs. “You’re sure?”
Am I? I’m not certain of anything anymore. I no longer know my father and grandfather. Do I know Falcon? “I don’t know.”
Vinnie nods. “If you’re right, then he’s unconscious and they hacked his phone.”
The address comes through in a text. “It’s somewhere outside Austin,” I say.
“I’m going with you.”
“No, Vinnie, you can’t. If Dad and Grandpa are behind this, they’ll never let you go.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not up for debate, Sav. I let you down once. I won’t do it again.”
27
FALCON
I wake up to a sharp pain in my head, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the light. Where the fuck am I? I try to move, but my hands are tied behind my back, and my ankles are bound together. The rough rope is digging into my skin. When I inhale, I smell dust and mildew. A lightbulb hangs from a string overhead.
“Get up,” someone commands from the shadows.
I don’t recognize the voice. It sounds like it’s coming through water or something.
I look up to see two blurred images.
“Where am I?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Somewhere you won’t be found easily,” the same voice says. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
I struggle against the restraints. Fear grips me as I realize just how helpless I am.
I don’t like the feeling. I don’t like fear. I trained myself against it on the inside. But at least I knew where I was, what the rules were, and how to break them.
I don’t know where I am or who I’m with. My hands are literally tied, and I don’t know what my next move is.
What happened? How did I get here? I was… I had my parole revocation hearing. Went to see Raven. Then…
Drove to Austin to see Savannah’s father.
Yes. Vincent Gallo. He talked about sacrifices. Talked about…
I can’t remember any more.
“Let me go, Gallo.” I growl through clenched teeth.
“He’s not here,” the same voice says, “but I am.”
“Who the fuck are you, then?” I squint, trying to get my vision to become clear.
The man in front of me is dressed in a suit, and his hair is…gray. No, it’s actually white. It’s…
“Mario Bianchi,” I say.
His wrinkled lips twist into a grin. “You’re good, given we’ve never met. And this is Declan McAllister.”
“Miles’s father,” I grit out.
“Good again,” Bianchi says.
“What the fuck do you want with me?”
“We have no use for you,” McAllister says, “although I could take out of your ass what you and your friend cost me after that break-in you orchestrated.”
“Go right ahead,” I tell him, “and I’ll get you and your son for false imprisonment and attempted rape.”
Bianchi chuckles. “You think it’s all that simple. You’re such an innocent.”
I pull at my restraints. “I’m far from innocent.”
“You think because you ruled your cellblock you can take us on?” Bianchi chuckles again. “You have a lot to learn, Savage.”
“If you have no interest in me, why am I here?”
“Simple enough,” McAllister says. “You’re the bait.”
No.
No, no, no!
“You leave her out of this, damn it. She’s safe, and—”
A blow lands on my jaw before I can finish. I’m not sure which one did it. Probably McAllister. Bianchi’s an old man. The ache jars me, makes my teeth rattle, but I’m good at hiding pain.
“You’ll never find her,” I grit out, spitting blood.
“No,” McAllister says, “but she’ll find us.”
Fuck. My hands are bound, and they took my phone. Used facial recognition while I was out cold.
Savannah. They called her on my satellite phone.
“Seems she’s very upset at the thought of us having you,” McAllister continues.
“How can you do this?” I spit out. “She’s your fucking granddaughter!”
Bianchi doesn’t answer. Why would he? This is business to him. He violated his grandson in the name of business. Got one of them killed.
I’m dealing with vile criminals, not unlike Zion in prison. Only these creeps have the upper hand. They have money and power, and they’re not locked up every night.
They’re way more dangerous than Zion.
