I Thee Take: To Have and To Hold Duet Book Two by Knight, Natasha (books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

I see the blood then. Not much but it’s there on the terra cotta tile. A deep red stain against the rusty orange. It comes off the ring when I smear my thumb over it. I slip the gold band onto my pinkie finger. It only goes to the first knuckle. She’s just a little thing. No match for the men who came for her.

“She was hunched over when they carried her out. Naked.”

Did he touch her? Jacob? Would he have touched her?

“No.” I pocket the ring and walk into the bathroom. If I go down that road, I will not be able to function.

This is where they surprised her. She must have been in the bath. Maybe trying to make sense of my accusation on our wedding night.

The tub is still mostly full and there’s a lot of water on the floor. A towel lies discarded a few feet away. If I know Scarlett, they must have dragged her out of the tub kicking and screaming. She’s a fighter. A survivor.

She’ll survive until I can get to her.

She has to.

“Cristiano,” my uncle calls, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“I want Jacob De La Cruz,” I say. “Alive.”

“Too late.”

“What?”

“His body was found at some docks near Genoa.”

“Genoa? That’s what? Seven hours away?”

“Chopper should be here...” we both hear the sound at the same time. “Now.”

“Where are Marcus and Felix?” I ask, as he and Antonio flank me on our way outside.

“Don’t know yet. I put men on it,” Antonio says.

The chopper lands, sending up a dust storm. I turn to Antonio. “Get Alec back to the house. I want you to watch him but don’t alert him to anything. Put a man you trust on him. I want to know who he talks to. If he makes any calls. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He’s probably thinking the same thing I am. Why is Alec alive when they made sure everyone else was dead?

“Are you going home or coming with me?” I ask my uncle.

“I’m coming with you.”

I nod and the two of us, along with a handful of soldiers, head toward the chopper.

My uncle stops me a few feet away. “You should have told me this is where you wanted to spend your wedding night,” my uncle says. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the whirring of the blades.

“You’d try to talk me out of it.”

“And for good reason. Why didn’t you tell me? Even about the church?”

I consider my response. How much I want to give away. “You met with him,” I say, finished with games. I’ve been finished with them since I woke up from the coma. Time has become more valuable. And I’m fucking tired.

Both eyebrows climb up his forehead. “Met with who?”

“Rinaldi.”

“What?”

“Three years ago. On the balcony at the opera. I didn’t even know you liked opera, Uncle.” I study his face as I say it, laying out my cards, watching for any tells.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I have a photo. Several. You and him, in a private and very heated discussion.”

He studies me as closely, left eye narrowing infinitesimally. Then he laughs, just a quick burst of air as he shakes his head.

“It was a charity event. I’d been invited for my contribution. I can’t dictate who the opera allows in and who they bar from entry, now can I?”

“So, you just coincidentally happen to be there at the same time as the man who murdered your brother, your sister-in-law, your niece and nephews? And you’re able to hold a conversation with him knowing he’s responsible? Knowing what he did to my mother?” That last part I force out, blocking the emotion that wants to worm its way into my words.

“What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I don’t know, Uncle.”

“Where is this photo? How did you get it?”

“Doesn’t matter. What were you talking about?”

“Quite honestly, I was taken by surprise when he, his soldiers, and those two Cartel brothers arrived at the box where I sat with the president of the charity. He came to pour salt into the wound, Cristiano. My anger got the better of me. I told him in no uncertain terms that one day, I would kill him.”

“This lasted seven minutes?” The time was stamped on the photos.

“How dare you!”

“Look around you, Uncle. I was betrayed tonight. Again.”

“And you think it was me? I didn’t even fucking know where you were!” he pauses, glances around then lowers his voice. “Have you thought of Alec? Have you wondered how he managed to survive considering they made sure no one else did? The rest were killed execution style. No room for error when you have a fucking bullet in your head. Have you considered maybe it was him?”

“I consider everything,” I say, somehow calm. “I have to. What else were you talking to Rinaldi about at the opera? Seven minutes is a long fucking time.”

“I already told you. And if you doubt that I was as impacted by the murders of your family, then you’re having a brain hemorrhage.” He leans in close, pokes his finger against my chest. “Remember who saved your fucking life.”

“Yeah, I remember. Dante.”

“No, not Dante. He found you. I’m the one who made sure you were kept safe and protected while you couldn’t defend yourself. I made sure you were taken care of, made sure you were out of sight until you were strong enough to stand on your own, to take back what was stolen from you and to avenge your family. You think Dante didn’t want to go after them? You think I didn’t want revenge? I protected him too. Saved his life too when he’d have thrown it away going after those fuckers. I knew all along we needed to wait for you. We couldn’t take that from you, and that’s the truth of it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything but hate for the family who killed my family.”

I look beyond him to