Silver Or Lead (Mafia For Hire Book 1), page 1
SILVER OR LEAD
MAFIA FOR HIRE
BOOK 1
DARCY HALIFAX
Published by Paladin Publishing
Silver Or Lead
Copyright © 2023 by Darcy Halifax
Cover design by: Covers by Aura
Editing and proofreading by: Messenger’s Memos – Fiction Editing Services
Formatting by: Darcy Halifax
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of Darcy Halifax, except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
SILVER OR LEAD
MAFIA FOR HIRE
BOOK 1
DARCY HALIFAX
CONTENTS
Content Guide
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Want More?
About the Author
Also by Darcy Halifax
Paperbacks
DEDICATION
Welcome to the world, Darcy!
I dedicate the dick-rot to you, Kelly. Thank you.
CONTENT GUIDE
Please be advised that Silver Or Lead contains content that some readers may find triggering.
This is book one in a dark(ish) romance with a guaranteed HEA.
There is no bullying or violence between the MCs.
For a full list of triggers (to avoid spoilers here), please follow the link to my website.
Content Guide
CHAPTER ONE
The dark hood over Angela’s head was suffocating. Every breath felt thick, and her heart pounded furiously to make up for the lack of oxygen. Or so it seemed. A good deal of her racing heart was from pure terror.
It seemed ludicrous that just ten minutes prior, she had been getting into her car in the parking lot at the hospital where she worked as a surgeon, and now she was rolling around in the trunk of a stranger’s car with her hands bound behind her back and a hood over her head. It wasn’t her first time in this kind of predicament, and she reminded herself that she could breathe through the thick fabric. So, she ordered herself to take one measured breath in, then exhaled slowly. She repeated the action three more times before she was able to breathe with more ease and wonder just how she had gotten into the situation.
A group of three men had walked over to her, and her well-honed spidey senses flared to life. But, like an idiot, she ignored them when one of the men spoke politely.
“Excuse me, are you a doctor?” the man questioned.
Angela confirmed that she was indeed a doctor, then the man grimaced and said, “I’m really sorry about this.”
He moved with lightning speed, wrenching her hands behind her back at the same time as a black hood was pulled over her head. She had gotten a few kicks into some shins before she was shoved into the trunk of a flashy car.
Now, here she was, being driven to a second location like a victim. But she wasn’t a victim. She never would be again. Which was why, when she felt the car slow down and eventually stop, she tucked her feet underneath her in preparation for the trunk to open.
She strained, listening to the sound of the doors opening and closing, followed by some muffled voices. She quickly looked down, shaking her head vigorously and dislodging the black fabric. She gasped, blinking and trying to see anything at all. But there was nothing but her in the surprisingly large space. When the trunk opened suddenly, she pushed up from her knees, ramming her head into the chest of her nearest abductor. He grunted but didn’t go down.
“Shit! Grab her!” the man yelled.
She found herself in the arms of not one but two men as she was hauled bodily out of the car. They continued to carry her — swearing all the way as if she was the problem — across what looked to be an underground parking garage. It was large, with polished concrete floors and dozens of vehicles. Unfortunately, she was unable to get a good look at any license plates before she was loaded into an elevator.
The man she had rammed into grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Will you calm down? Nobody’s going to hurt you,” he said.
Angela yanked her head back. Her skin was already crawling from the unwanted touch. “Like I haven’t heard that before. Fuck you!” she snarled at him.
He shook his head, stepping back and not saying anything else. She watched the numbers on the elevator go up and up until the doors finally opened on floor fifty. She was finally placed on her feet as the men dragged her from the elevator, down a hallway with closed doors, and into an open area with couches. She took in every detail she could, from the soft-gray walls to the plush carpet beneath her feet. She realized she was in a very expensive building, and the underground area must have been a private garage.
“Hey.” Her abductor clicked his fingers in front of her face. “I’m going to untie you because you’re going to need your hands. Don’t try anything stupid, Doc,” he ordered her.
Angela had no intention of listening to him, but she nodded her head, feigning submission. Her right fist shot out the moment her hands were freed, striking one of her kidnappers in the throat. The large brute of a man choked, his blue eyes going wide before he bent forward and coughed. Angela took great satisfaction in the look of shock and pain on his face as he struggled to breathe. She raised her foot to kick the man’s testicles into his abdomen, but a silky-smooth voice stopped her.
“Enough of that.”
The words, spoken casually, held a command her body was unable to ignore. She hesitated, and it cost her dearly. The big man was up and holding her arms to her sides in seconds. She cursed her own stupidity more than anything else. Never hesitate, she told herself. You know better. “Let me go.”
“Not gonna happen,” her captor snarled at her, giving her a shake.
Angela ignored him, her brain working quickly. He had a very strong grip on her arms and was standing back enough that she had no hope of inflicting damage with her feet. So she bit him instead. At least, she tried to. The moment her teeth grazed his knuckle, he swore and jumped back, releasing her from the prison of his arms. She made it one step before she was brought up short by the barrel of a gun.
“I need you to calm down, Doctor.”
Her eyes flicked past the deadly weapon to the man holding it. She was sorry to find the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. It was just her luck to discover the reincarnation of David, only for him to be a criminal. He had dark-brown hair that was thick and wavy, tanned skin, and eyes that were several shades lighter than his hair, making them a startling and beautiful contrast. “Who are you? Why have you taken me?” she finally demanded.
“Vincenzo Romano.”
Angela was so shocked that she stopped all attempts to escape. She knew the name well, even though she had never had the misfortune of meeting the man before. “Romano? The rebel mafia prince?”
He grimaced. “Call me Roman. I’m no prince,” he responded.
She snorted. “No shit, you’re not a prince. A killer is what you are.” Angela slammed her mouth shut, cursing her runaway mouth. She knew the man’s reputation. She knew he had killed his own father so he could inherit the mantel of Don of the largest mafioso in the country. His face turned hard and cold, and she saw the monster beneath the thin veneer of civility he’d had in place.
“If I am a killer, you’d do well to be a little nicer to me,” he told her silkily.
“Nicer? I’ve been kidnapped!” Angela yelled.
“It was an emergency,” Roman said, as if it absolved him of his sins. “We need your help.”
Angela slammed her mouth shut and blinked. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you need my help?”
He nodded once, muscles flexing in his jaw.
Angela laughed. She couldn’t help it. The way his eyes narrowed dangerously told her it wasn’t a welcomed sound. “Your goons tossed a bag over my head and locked me in the trunk,” she reminded him when she had herself under control. “I’m not helping you with shit.”
He took a deep breath, as if striving for patience. “I regret the means—” he began, only to be interrupted by a man running into the room.
“Roman! He’s getting worse,” the man said, looking scared.
“Bring her!” Vincenzo Romano commanded before sprinting out of the room.
A strong grip on her upper arm forced her to walk across the corridor and into a room that looked suspiciously
“What happened?” she demanded, beginning a visual triage.
“He was shot,” Roman told her, frowning down at the man. “It was a through and through. Our usual physician patched him up and assured us he would be fine. About an hour ago, he began to have trouble breathing, and his blood pressure dropped.”
Angela listened to the explanation, checking the man’s heart rate with two fingers against his inner wrist. Finding his pulse rapid, she moved her gaze down, lifting the sheet. His chest was bare save for a dressing on the right side of his abdomen and some alarming bruising spreading out from beneath the bandage.
“How long ago was he shot?” she asked, rolling the man carefully onto his side. She noted another dressing on his back, slightly higher than the wound on his front. The bullet clearly had not traveled straight.
“About ten hours,” Roman replied.
Angela’s head whipped up. “Ten hours? Are you the ones responsible for the bullet-riddled bodies brought into my ER over the last day?” she demanded.
She didn’t have all the details, but there had been some kind of shootout on the streets—a turf war or something. And the hospital had been slammed with patients. Two men had died before making it to the ER.
Roman’s face remained blank as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How he was shot doesn’t matter. Just fix him.”
Angela shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. I don’t have x-ray vision. I can’t see what’s going on inside of him. He could have internal bleeding, broken ribs that caused a bone shard to puncture a lung or enter his bloodstream . . . anything. Call an ambulance.”
“We can’t,” Roman stated.
“Then take him to the hospital yourself,” Angela insisted.
“We can’t do that either,” Roman told her.
Angela glanced at him. “Because you’ll be arrested.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Because it would end in more bloodshed,” Roman corrected, frowning down at her from his considerable height. “That’s why.”
“And because I made them promise not to take me.”
Angela looked down, finding the young man awake. His eyes were a startling blue in direct contrast to his dark-brown hair and eyebrows.
“I’m . . . Luca,” he said slowly.
“Luca.” Angela’s smile was strained. “I’m Dr. Angela Hawthorne. I’m not going to sugarcoat it; you look to be in critical condition. You need to go to the hospital.”
“Can’t . . .” Luca said. Only this time, his words were more gasp than anything else.
“Don’t speak, mio fratello. All will be well. I promise,” Roman vowed. He smiled at Luca, setting down the hand he had been gripping tightly. He nodded once to the man hanging onto Luca’s other hand on the opposite side of the bed, drawing Angela’s attention to him.
He looked older than Luca, perhaps in his late thirties. He had brown hair that was pulled back in a messy bun, and his dark-brown eyes were red-rimmed. He kissed Luca’s hand tenderly and gave a strained smile. “Rest, okay?”
Luca nodded, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Love . . . you.”
“I love you too,” the man replied, brushing Luca’s sweaty bangs off his forehead.
It was clear they were a couple. And a cute one at that, Angela thought. Despite the circumstances, she didn’t want to see that love die. Luca needed more medical intervention immediately. She cleared her throat, digging deep for her usual compassionate bedside manner. “Excuse me, mister . . .?”
“Salvatore. Just Salvatore. I’m Luca’s partner. Please, help him,” Salvatore all but begged.
“I can’t. Not here. I’m sorry,” she answered honestly. “If you want him to live, you need to get him to a hospital.” She hoped he would listen more than Luca and Roman.
“If you want to live, you better get to work.”
A familiar snick accompanied the words, and Angela stiffened. She turned to find herself at the wrong end of Roman’s handgun once more. Her eyes flicked to his caramel ones, finding a coldness that spoke of a man who was not bluffing. She smiled regretfully at Salvatore and Luca before stepping back.
Roman watched her with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing? Save him,” he commanded.
“No,” Angela replied succinctly.
The look on Roman’s face was one of complete shock for a second before it morphed into pure rage. It was a look she was very familiar with, and she braced herself for a blow. But it never came. Instead, she found herself with a muzzle of a gun pressing painfully into the center of her forehead.
“I said, save him,” Roman repeated with quiet deadliness.
Angela met his eyes once more. “And I said no.”
“You took an oath,” her original kidnapper pointed out from beside Roman. He was looking just as frustrated and murderous as his boss. “That’s a thing, right? The Hippocratic Oath?”
She shrugged. “Sure. I took an oath. But not to you.”
The gasping breaths of the young man behind her were the only sounds in the room for a few heartbeats. She did her best to ignore the dying man. But it was hard. Very hard. Still, she would not yield. She had done so in the past, and it had cost her more than a few bruises. Cuts, bruises, and broken bones were easily healed in the grand scheme of things. But her mind, her soul—those things were much harder to repair. She refused to feel them shatter again.
Roman ground the cold metal deeper into her forehead, no doubt leaving a mark. “Are you really prepared to die for the sake of pride?”
Angela raised her chin as much as the gun would allow. “It’s not about pride. It’s about power. You seem to think you hold all the power in this room because you have that gun. But in actual fact, I am the one with all the power. If you want me to save that man, you’ll apologize,” she told him. “You’ll get that gun out of my face. And you’ll get the fuck out of my space.”
“Roman, please,” Salvatore practically sobbed when Roman didn’t immediately move.
Roman stared at her for another tense second before his thumb pushed the safety back on the gun with practiced ease. He lowered the weapon to his side and swallowed audibly, taking a step back. “I apologize for the way you were brought here. I apologize for your treatment. Please, will you help my brother? He’s innocent.”
Angela maintained eye contact for a heartbeat longer, seeing the pain and fear hidden in the depths of the eyes that also held death. They tugged at something inside of her, something she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—name. Turning away, she said, “Nobody is innocent. Not even me.”
Then she got to work, saving a man who probably wasn’t worth saving.
CHAPTER TWO
Roman watched the woman bark orders at his crew. He nodded when they looked at him, telling them, “Get her anything she needs.”
He was furious with Dr. Gaines. The older man had been their private physician for years. He was paid handsomely for his service. And his silence. Roman wasn’t naïve. He knew the doctor only treated them because of the money. The older man didn’t really give a shit about any of them. But that didn’t mean he could put his baby brother’s life at risk by doing a half-assed job.
