Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I suck on my teeth and look out the window. The city I wanted to explore slowly rolls past. “Why do you call him that? Uncle? Nobody else does, at least I haven’t heard them. They all refer to him by his last name.”
He stares straight ahead and his face is completely calm. “Uncle Luciano and my father were best friends. They grew up together, and I grew up with Uncle Luciano around for every birthday, every Christmas. He never had kids of his own and I guess he wanted to treat us like his own children, and we really loved him for it. Everyone else has forgotten that, but I haven’t.”
I turn slightly to stare at him, looking for an emotion to make me understand what he’s thinking, but his face is totally passive. I can’t imagine what must have happened to turn a man who was like an uncle to him into a hated enemy the way he is now, but it must have been horrible. Those kinds of relationships, they aren’t easily broken and ruined in the mafia world, because they’re so precious and important. Crime families run on relationships and loyalty, and if Santoro broke that trust—
I can only imagine how much it must’ve hurt him.
“I shouldn’t have tried to leave the oasis,” I say and put my hand on his leg. I want to make him feel better, because even if he’s not showing it, he must be hurting. “I’m being selfish.”
“You’re not selfish,” he says and lets out a long breath. He covers my hand with his own and laces his fingers through mine. “You’re alone in a strange place and you’re stuck in a house that isn’t your own. Your life is back in Philadelphia, but you’re stuck here, and you’re not even allowed to go for a walk. I can’t hold it against you.”
“Well, since we’re in agreement—” I say and grin at him. He squeezes my hand and his lips quirk very slightly, loosening his painfully neutral exterior.
“Just because I understand doesn’t mean you were right to do it. I already agreed to find you a job you can do from home, but maybe I need to make that a priority.”
More guilt hits me. “I just wanted to find a coffee shop.”
“And I just wanted a wife that could follow simple instructions, especially when those instructions are there to keep her safe.”
“I guess nobody gets what they want then.”
He smirks and pulls my hand, yanking me toward him as he stops at a stop sign and turns to crush my mouth with his. I’m surprised by the kiss, but I lean into it, craving his tongue and his taste. I whimper into his mouth and want more, because I’m greedy for him, and stupid for the way he can make me feel.
“I was cold this morning,” I whisper after he breaks apart the kiss. We’re still stopped in the street. “I know you have to work, but tell me before you leave next time. I don’t care if you have to wake me up.”
“I can do that,” he agrees and touches my cheek with his other hand. “I’ll also make your new job a priority.”
I kiss him one more time before he starts driving again. We stop a few minutes later, and I realize we’re on the other side of the oasis. He must’ve driven a large loop around the block.
Matty’s standing nearby, looking around innocently like nothing’s happening.
I get out and watch the truck disappear around the corner before I turn and glare at the young guard. “Don’t you dare say anything.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Stefania.” But his grin says enough.
I point at him. “You can call me ma’am now, dick.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I march past him and back to the house. Once inside, I stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, and touch a streak of red on my cheek, and notice more red on my hands where I was touching Davide.
Some stranger’s blood. It would bother me, but I just wash it away with soap and water, making the sink turn pink. I’m normal. I’m totally normal. I’m so normal, I should get a little yappy white dog.
Chapter 24
Davide
The driver knew nothing and he paid an ugly price for it. I took most of his fingers and three of his teeth before I was confident that he had nothing to do with the gun heist.
Which leaves only Santoro as the primary culprit.
“This is an escalation,” Simon says as we sit in my truck outside of a benign-looking office park in a quiet part of the Chicago suburbs. There’s not much out here except fast food chains, decaying malls, crumbling auto factories, and the people that refuse to walk away from the homes they’ve known all their lives.
“You’re right, it’s an escalation.” I lean forward, studying suite number 305. The name above the door reads “Perfect Properties” but that’s just a shell. The people inside that place don’t deal with real estate.