CHAPTER 3

Brock

The next morning, I pulled into the dealership to swap cars with a new focus. If I wasn’t going to be able to take him in a quick sweep off the street, I’d need to take him from a place. Home or a hotel, didn’t matter. It was the only time he wasn’t surrounded by a shit-ton of security. Not easy, but at this point it was the best chance of getting him. For that, I’d need to keep studying his habits, his patterns. Where he went on what days. Unfortunately, it would take longer than I wanted the prick out on the street, but I knew it would be the best option in the end.

I didn’t bother stopping in to see Malcolm or Miller. They’d both want an update I didn’t have. The first stop I planned to make was Marcello’s home. Unlike the Hawes family, Marcello never started his day before eleven, which would give me some time to watch the house before he left.

I climbed into the sedan, the dark leather becoming as familiar as my own cloth bucket seats. The gloomy interior closed in on me, and I longed for the open space and extra leg room of my Chevelle. When I drove by Marcello’s home to park my car out of sight, I saw him climbing into the back seat of his own car. It looked like I wouldn’t be watching the house for long. The moment the car turned out of the driveway, I waited and followed at a respectable distance behind.

The car pulled up in front of a restaurant. The food was shit, and the decor was a bit ostentatious, but the place wasn’t what caught my attention. Marcello wasn’t alone. After he stepped from the car, he reached a hand in to help a woman out. The sleek long black hair gave her away instantly.

Isobel Marcello.

The small red dress left little to the imagination. The bottom curve of her ass was on tantalizing display below the hem of the dress. Smooth, creamy curves peeked from the deep V at the front of the dress, almost to her nipple. I shifted in my seat, trying to adjust my growing erection. Her long hair hung straight down her back, drawing my attention to the sway of her ass as she walked toward the restaurant. My dick perked up at the sight. Apparently, he didn’t care what a heartless bitch she was. The woman was hot as fuck, despite her long dark hair. Normally only blondes got me hard. How in the hell had a greasy sleazebag like Marcello nabbed a woman like her was beyond me.

Then again, she was beautiful as she was ruthless.

She didn’t need her husband to take someone out, but like her husband, it didn’t matter who went down in the process. When a husband failed to pay his debt on time, she had the wife’s eyes popped out, so she’d never be able to see her husband again. The bitch also had no problem forcing a woman to miscarry. Word on the street was she made the husband watch as one of the assholes who worked for her kicked his pregnant wife in the stomach until she lost the baby right there on the floor. And there was no shortage of stories like that on the street. All of them designed to make sure people paid the money back on time. Those who didn’t know any better continued to borrow money from them only to find out later how bad a choice they’d made.

Don’t get me wrong, business was business and debts had to be paid, but the only one who should suffer for lack of payment should be the person who borrowed the money.

I stayed out of sight the entire time they were in the restaurant, running through everything I knew about Marcello. Besides being the sleaziest fucker on the planet, the man thought he was untouchable. Or at least that’s the appearance he wanted to give off. But a man who kept at least four guys with him everywhere he went wasn’t as confident as he seemed. The slimy bastard was smart, but his ego would be his downfall. Someplace, somewhere, the shit was going to fuck up and he’d be mine. He couldn’t be perfect forever, and I’d be right there waiting for it to happen. After my chat with Ashton last night, I could be patient.

My ass was starting to go numb by the time they emerged from the restaurant. Marcello held the cocky smirk of someone who thought they could do anything with no consequences. On his arm was the ice queen. There was no better way to describe the bitch who most certainly didn’t have a heart. I doubted she’d even mourn his death, most likely replacing him with some lackey she could control. If she was smart, she’d stay far away from the Haweses once her husband was gone.

I followed them back to the house, where he stayed for the next few hours before heading out again. So went the next few weeks. Every day the same: lunch at an overpriced restaurant with his wife. He probably wanted the world to see her on his arm because no one in their right mind would believe he’d gotten a wife who looked like her. Afterward, he’d take her home, then head out again later to one of his properties. Always surrounded by his men.

Getting him at one of his properties was going to be near impossible. After more than a month of following him, I knew the answer, even if I’d tried to avoid it.

Home.

I’d have to grab him from the house. It was my only option. Anywhere else would leave more evidence. Of course, I could take his shitty security without blinking, but it was likely Marcello would go down in the process, and Miller would lose his shit if he didn’t get a shot at him. This time when they pulled away from the house, I didn’t follow behind. There were other things I needed to take care of. I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat, pulling up Miller’s number and hitting send. The phone went directly to voice mail. Next on the list was Malcolm’s private line. The number you used in emergencies or situations like this. When you didn’t want your ass caught by wiretapping.

“Brock.” His voice was gruff over the line.

I stopped at the red light in front of me. “I’ve ruled out everything but his home.”

Malcolm wasn’t the kind of boss who wanted things done with no knowledge of how things went down. He wasn’t the kind of man who was afraid to get his hands dirty.

“His home. Well, fuck. Of course, the slimy bastard has security everywhere else. I want the fucker to suffer worse for having to wait this long to get my hands on him.”

“I sent pictures of the security system to Dean. He’s working on a way to get us through.”

“I want that piece of shit by the end of next week. Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Call me when you have his ass tied to a chair.”

Malcolm disconnected the call without another word. I knew if I needed extra time he’d give it to me. Malcolm was frustrated, but he wouldn’t risk my life or his empire over a few extra days. I’d have my hands on Marcello by the end of the week, as long as Dean came through on the security.

 

***

 

The house was dark, exactly like we expected. If Marcello kept to his routine, he’d be in his office at the back of the house and his wife would be out of the house at her normal weekly charity meeting. Had to make the family look legit somehow. Marcello’s sleazy motels around the city wouldn’t do that, but Mrs. Marcello volunteering for different groups sure as hell had a better chance.

The smug bastard relied too heavily on his security system, sending his men home once he arrived. Miller and Ashton had more than a security system watching their homes with this asshole on the loose. Dean had been able to crack the system, making it seem to be active, when in reality he’d turned it off. Quietly, I popped the lock on the back door, which led directly into the kitchen. The architecture firm was more than happy to hand over the plans for the building for a little bit of money. Not paying his debt to the firm had benefited us in the end. Malcolm made sure to double what the guy had lost on the job for Marcello.

After leaving the kitchen, I found the stairs, taking them to the second floor. The hall was dark, the only light seeping beneath the door at the end on the left-hand side. The rest of the house was silent. Walking lightly for a man who stood around six foot four wasn’t always easy, but a strong arm didn’t work in every situation. Sometime stealth was needed. Slipping the gun from the holster at my waist, I crept closer and closer to the door. Gilt mirrors hung every few feet along the wall, reflecting my own image back to me.

Narcissist.

The man had every textbook trait. And it would be his downfall. His belief that I’d never get my hands on him couldn’t be more wrong. By the time I reached the door, I heard muffled noises from within. Those I could use to my advantage. Gripping the handle, I pushed down slowly to avoid the clicking of the lock. The door swung open and the unexpected sat in my line of sight.

The room was dim. Marcello stood with his hand fisted so tightly in a woman’s hair, her head was pulled back at an awkward angle. His mouth devoured hers. I acted without thinking. I couldn’t give either of them time to grab a weapon or summon security. Rushing forward, I slammed the butt of the gun into the side of his head, dropping him instantly. Blood oozed from the wound created by the force. Before she could make a sound, I wrapped my hand around her face, covering her mouth. She tried to wrestle away, jet-black hair brushing across my face, but her tiny frame was no match for me, even the elbow she slammed into my ribs in her attempt to get away. Using my other arm, I yanked her back against my chest, keeping her arms pinned to her sides. The scent of cherry blossoms filled my nose, catching me off guard for one brief moment.

She stomped on my instep, almost making me cry out and release my grip, but I held on, squeezing her tighter, as she continued to fight my hold. “Unless you want me to shoot you here and now, I suggest you knock it the fuck off.”

She stopped moving, nodding jerkily.

“I’m glad you understand. Now I’m going to let go of you and you’re not going to say a word. One little noise and I won’t hesitate to kill you and I’ll still drag that piece of shit out of here to meet his maker.”

Again, she nodded.

Slowly, in case I had to cover her mouth again quickly, I lowered my hand. She stood still in my arms, but there wasn’t a sound to be heard. I lifted my arm from her body, moving the gun in her direction. Her eyes darted around the room, like she was trying to find a way to escape.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned. “The only way you’re leaving this room is with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, crossing her arms over her chest. I couldn’t help noticing the way her long dark hair fell in curls over her shoulder and down her back.

I don’t have time for this shit.

The security system wouldn’t stay off forever and I couldn’t leave Mrs. Marcello there to send reinforcements the minute I was out of her sight. There was only one solution.

She’d have to come with me.

I gestured her over toward her husband with the gun. “Pull his wrists behind his back.”

“You actually think you’ll get away with this?”

I reached down with my free hand, undoing my belt. Never had I thought she’d be home. It wasn’t something I was prepared for. That didn’t mean I couldn’t think quick in that kind of situation. She grabbed his arms and held them. When she peeked over her shoulder her eyes stayed low, never rising higher than my waist.

“You better keep your dick in your pants or you won’t have one after tonight.”

What the fuck kind of person did she think I was? She spent entirely too much time around her scumbag husband. My life might revolve around violence and being the person to dole out punishments, but I wasn’t a rapist. Besides, why would I want to stick my dick in a bitch like her anyway? “I don’t have a problem getting women in my bed. Rape isn’t my thing.”

Isobel glared at me, her brows dropping low over her eyes, until her gaze moved to my hand.

I moved behind her and used my foot to roll Marcello to his stomach. I dropped the wire ties onto his back. “Bind his wrists. And you better not leave it loose enough for him to get out of it.”

With shaking hands, but with the rigid set of her shoulders, I knew it wasn’t fear that made her hands tremble. She took Marcello’s wrist and wrapped the wire tie around it, pulling the end tight, or at least enough to make it look tight.

“Not tight enough.”

She snarled, tugging on the end until it bit into his skin. Once she looped the second tie through the first, she did the same to the other wrist, tugging on it to prove it wasn’t loose. Satisfied that Marcello wasn’t getting out if he happened to rouse during the ride over, I stepped toward her.

“Hands behind your back.” Annoyed with the situation I found myself in, I grabbed her shoulder and roughly forced her to the ground face down. A groan passed her lips. I took both her hands in one of mine and used the other to holster my gun. Putting one knee across her shoulder blades, I brought both of her hands behind her back and used my own belt to bind them. A tremor moved through her at the first touch of my skin to hers. I tightened the belt into place and left her where she was. The only way I could get both of them out of the house was by carrying Marcello over my shoulder and forcing his cunt of a wife to walk. There was only one thing keeping her from running: the gun on my hip.

Marcello’s head wound continued to bleed, but once Miller got his hands on him that would be the least of his problems. After flipping him to his back, I bent at the waist, throwing him over my shoulder like a sandbag. At least the little shit was on the short, skinny side, making him easy to hold. Banding my arm around his legs, I reached down for her arm, hauling her to her feet. I pulled my gun back out, shoving it into her back. A small grunt left her lips. She was a fantastic actress. With the very real possibility she would die tonight, she still held her head like a regal queen.

“Walk where I tell you.”

The gun was pointed straight at her back, the muzzle touching her shirt. I wanted to make it clear that any move she made would get her exactly what she deserved. When she stood without moving a muscle, I knew she understood.

“We’re leaving through the back door to the kitchen.”

She held her ground, spreading her feet wide.

“I said move your ass while you can still move it. I have no problem leaving you for someone else to find, here in a pool of your own blood, but I can guarantee they won’t recognize you.”

For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t heed my warning, then she straightened her back, rolling her shoulders, and began to walk forward. I had to say I was impressed with the way she handled herself. Isobel Marcello was purported to be a hard ass bitch. She didn’t take shit from anyone, and that was obvious from the way she behaved. Even with the threat of death, she still acted like she thought she was superior to me. Isobel apparently feared no one, not even me.

I still hadn’t figured out the enigma when we reached the kitchen, the room bathed in light from the moon outside. Why in the hell was I taking her with me?  I knew it would be easier to kill her now, leave her body for someone to find in the morning. I didn’t need any more complications. Even with her standing there, back to me, I couldn’t bring myself to do it and I couldn’t explain why.

“Turn around and open the door.”

She bent her head and lifted her hands that were still bound behind her back. “And how am I supposed to do that?” she snapped.

The attitude was back. “Use your hands. That’s why I told you to turn the fuck around.”

She sighed and turned, keeping her head bowed as she reached around for the doorknob. Once her hands wrapped around it, she twisted it and pulled, taking a step forward and letting the door swing into the kitchen. Cool air hit us, and a shiver ran down her spine. Without a word, she spun and stormed out into the night. I followed closely behind, the gun still held tight in my fist.

Isobel glanced at me over her shoulder. “Where to now?”

“Close it.” I gestured with my head to the door.

She walked backward into the house, pulling the door closed as she stepped out. I led her to my car and popped the trunk. Unconcerned, I dropped Marcello inside, his head hitting the side on the way down. “Come here,” I snapped.

Her head shook rapidly from side to side. “I’m not getting in the trunk of your car.”

What the fuck?

For some reason, the way she tried to defy me was sexy as fuck. Thoughts of bending her over the trunk and fucking her with her husband inside was slightly appealing. I gave my head a quick shake. That was the last thing I should be thinking about. I needed to get out of there before anyone saw us. So far, I’d been lucky as fuck. I didn’t want to push it by analyzing the antics of some crazy bitch.

“You bet your ass is getting in the trunk. Both you and your worthless, coward of a husband.”

Her eyes narrowed as I wrapped my hand around her bicep and yanked her toward the back of the car. I pushed her forward.

“Get in.”

She shook her head and tried to yank out of my grip. Frustrated that I’d questioned myself when it came to Isobel Marcello, I grabbed her upper arm and forced her into the trunk. She moved up to her knees, and I raised the gun at her again.

“This isn’t my car. Just keep in mind that I don’t give two shits if the carpet is coated in blood when I return it.”

Without a word she lay down next to her husband. Isobel’s blue gaze held mine for the briefest of moments as I slammed the lid closed.

My head pounded. Blood roared through my ears. Malcolm wasn’t a fan of hurting women, but there were always exceptions, and for some of the shit Isobel had pulled over the years, I was willing to bet he’d make one in this case. By the time I’d pulled out of the driveway, with no indication that I’d been anywhere near the house, I breathed a little easier. I was good as hell at my job, but when things didn’t go as planned shit made me crazy. As it was I’d taken fifteen more minutes than I’d originally planned.

I hit the button on the dashboard screen to dial Malcolm’s private number. The call connected instantly. His voice was cautious. “Brock?”

“I have him.”

The tone in his voice went cold. “Head over to the club.”

“I’ll be there, except . . .” At that moment I glanced up into the rearview mirror, to the back seat where I knew the defiant bitch was probably plotting my demise in the back, yet something stopped me from finishing my sentence.

“Except what?” Malcolm asked. I’d worked for him long enough to know he wasn’t happy with being made to wait.

The memory of her face as I shut the trunk made me keep my mouth shut. “Except the club is still open.”

“Knock the fucker out and leave him in the trunk until the place clears out.”

“On my way.”

I disconnected the call and made a decision that could have my ass in the same position as Marcello, but somehow, I knew it was what I needed to do. I turned away from the club, heading in the direction of my house. If I showed up with Isobel, Malcolm, if not Miller, would have her killed on the spot. There wasn’t a lot of time before they called to find out why I hadn’t arrived yet. They’d been waiting for Marcello long enough. I pulled into my driveway and threw the car into park. I leapt from the car and opened the trunk.

“Where are we?” A nasty edge to her tone.

“Doesn’t matter. Get out.”

At first, she didn’t move, at least until I reached my hand in and pulled her out of the car. I slammed the lid down, in case Marcello woke up. I dragged her behind me, walking faster than she could keep up.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, running to keep up.

I didn’t answer, continuing to the door.

“Tell me.” She tried to yank out of my hold. I stopped and whipped my arm around her waist, hauling her off her feet, giving her no choice but to come with me. Isobel squirmed in my embrace. “Put me the fuck down, you Neanderthal.” Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, attempting to loosen my grip.

“No.”

I held her with one hand and unlocked the door with the other, heading directly for the basement the moment I stepped inside. Isobel continued to fight.

“I said, put me down, Brock.”

My feet froze at her use of my name.

“Yes, I know who you are and who you work for. Now, let me go.”

I kept going, knowing this was the only way to keep her out of sight until I could figure out what to do with her. I wanted to know why the cold-hearted bitch made me want to tie her down and fuck her all night. And until I understood that I wasn’t willing to take her life. Not prepared to have a captive in my house, I dropped her ass down on the weight bench, grabbing an exercise band. I wrapped the band around her wrists, tying it to the bottom of the weight bench.

Isobel tugged at the straps, trying to free herself. “Let me go!”

When I was sure she wasn’t getting free, I walked back up the stairs and shut the door behind me. Miller and Malcolm didn’t need to know about Isobel yet, which meant I had to get Marcello to them sooner rather than later.

I’d deal with her when I got back.