CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 41
Mary-Ann
Marco Santoro cradled the trembling girl, easily getting up in one fluid motion.

“It’s being taken care of.”

“Like hell it is. This won’t be over until he’s dead at my feet.” Mary-Ann retorted, referring to Salvatore Greco.

“You’re going to take him out buck naked?” Marco asked with a slight smirk.

Balling up her fists on her hips, Mary-Ann stood tall and proud. "With just a smile on my face if I have to."

"You're such a crazy woman, Mary-Ann, and that's why I like you." Shaking a duffel bag off his shoulder, Marco dropped it at her feet. "I picked these up a few floors above as I didn't know what state I would find you both in."

On her knees, Mary-Ann found a cache of clothes. "You came prepared."

As second-in-command to Vincent DeLuca's operation, Marco had probably done his share of work. He would know firsthand what a prisoner endures. She searched through the clothes and came up with jeans that she believed would fit. She jumped into them as quickly as possible. She grabbed a long-sleeved shirt two sizes too big and pulled it over her head. These would have to do.

In another inspection, she found her leather holster and ammunition stashed at the bottom. She reloaded and checked the two knives, shrugging it on. The familiar weight comforted and steadied her for what was to come.

Mary-Ann was a storm. A hurricane. A force of nature that could not be stopped or negotiated with. She would leave destruction.

"Come along with us. You won't have a chance to find Salvatore Greco now. He will be gone, now that I slaughtered my way down here."

Skirting Marco Santoro's remarks, Mary-Ann concentrated on the lovely words which had lain unobtrusively at the periphery of her mind. These grew louder with accelerating purpose. She had called on all sides of what she actually was. There was no going back now. Whatever hopes she had had of saving her black stain of ink-stained soul were forever forfeit.

Slipping unseen, the shadows edged to her call. Behind her, Marco swore. Air in motion, she knew he attempted to reach her, but she was encircled by the blackness before he could intervene. The fire of her wrath had turned cold with a blinding fury that seethed. Now Salvatore Greco would feel the pain of cold, unforgiving ice, which burns much more deeply than its opposite.

The world was turned over for her. She knew the shadows would take her to where she wanted to go. As they bore her away to her destination, the foreboding whispers encircled her. Covering around her like flower petals, they stretched out into the night. The light of the full moon bathed silver over the unscathed white space, lighting it all.

Wailing. A frightened scream of a newborn pierced through the silence of the night. In the distance past the clearing, she glimpsed two robed individuals sneaking off. Numb bare feet from the cold bite of snow, she did not notice as adrenaline surged through her. She rushed to cut them off. Her eyes glanced over the clearing every few seconds for any surprise, yet nothing was afoot.

Sofia Rossi.

Mary-Ann had never had a chance to hold her. They removed her from her, but tonight she intended to take her back and never let her go.

"Miss me, daddy dearest?" Mary-Ann uttered in the most endearing voice.

Spinning around in shock, Salvatore Greco cradled a bundle in his arms. The howl was louder still.

Her attention centered on the small fist that she saw waving from the furs. She fought against every urge to invade his space and snatch Sofia away.

"Only Vincent DeLuca can command the shadows so well," Salvatore told her in amazement.

Mary-Ann saw the last shadows ebb away, mixing into the darkness. "I suppose they've decided to serve a new master.".

Looking at his friend, Salvatore gently placed his burden into the receiving arms. "Derek Walsh was supposed to be training you."

Depressing her gun, Mary-Ann tapped the barrel against her lips thoughtfully. "Was that his name? I killed him just after I finished with Richard Kane, who was busy taking a beating from Teresa (Romano)."

"That was never part of the bargain, Salvatore. The girl was never to be hurt."

That angry voice. Sensual, lethal, it had the power to liquefy her bones. Sweeping up the heavy hood, the figure bared his cruelly angelic face, displeasure clear in his expression. All Mary-Ann’s attention centered on the dark man. His eyes held hers.

Vincent DeLuca.

Color ebbed from her cheeks. “You’re in on this?”

Salvatore Greco laughed uncomfotably. "Do you think I was the one who took your baby out of your belly? He had his Syndicate Enforcers open you up. Did it himself. We had an arrangement months ago. I get a kingdom and he gets the child with no threat from me.".