Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Sure, objectively, being a mafia princess, she knew all about how ugly shit could get. Bloodshed and headshots.
There was nothing clean or pretty about organized crime.
But having her know that, and having her see me engage in this shit, were two different things.
I wanted, in a way I couldn’t wrap my head around, to protect her from this.
“Hey!” she said, getting closer, making me realize she was wearing my old leather jacket. A warm sensation moved through my chest at seeing that. “This is so funny,” she said, all smiles. “I was just thinking that I needed to talk to you about something.”
Fuck.
I hadn’t heard her voice in so long.
I almost forgot how honey-sweet it was.
The crash from inside the building had me shaking out of the steadily-growing fantasy of grabbing her, dragging her home, and getting lost in her for a few hours.
“Not now,” I said, hoping she didn’t know what was going on inside the building.
“It will just take a min—“ she started when there was more scuffling inside the building, this time followed by curses from Dav and Rico.
Shit was not going well in there.
I had to get in there to get control over the situation.
“I said not now,” I said, not realizing my tone was as sharp as it was until she flinched. She fucking flinched. And that megawatt smile that had been on her stupidly pretty face just fell away.
“Renzo!” Rico called, voice a pained hiss.
“Go home,” I said, turning and rushing into the building, locking the door behind me, in case she had any ideas of following.
Rico was bent over, holding his ribs, as Dav shuffled around the room, his arms holding onto the man who was fighting for his life.
“You’re just pissing me the fuck off,” Dav growled, yanking back viciously, the man arching at an unnatural angle. All the usual charm of his was gone, leaving the darker side of himself that he kept so well hidden on full display.
“You okay?” I asked, looking to Rico.
“Kicked me,” Rico said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just bruised, I think,” he told me, yanking up his shirt to press into his ribs.
“Alright. E-fucking-nough of this shit,” I said, stalking over toward Dav and the guy, reaching down to grab his legs.
Dav and I carried him, wiggling like a fucking worm, over to the metal chair in the corner, each of us taking turns holding him still as he was secured with chains instead of the easily-broken zip ties.
“Rico, why don’t you go rest in the car. Maybe with some loud music playing,” I said, getting a nod from him as I stared down at the guy with the duct tape over his mouth. Tape I would have to remove to try to get answers out of him. Risking him pitching a fit and being heard. Hence the music.
I waited until the steady thrum of the bass melted through the brick walls before exhaling hard.
“You’ll save yourself a lot of pain if you just tell me who you’re working for now,” I said, reaching out, and ripping the tape off his mouth.
He was younger than I’d realized. Just a kid, really. Eighteen, nineteen. All defiant eyes and a smattering of hormonal acne on his chin.
It made sense that, whoever was behind this, was recruiting kids still in, or fresh out of, of high school.
They were a fuckuva lot easier to talk into shit. Full of ambition and a bone-deep belief that they were invincible. And likely not truly understanding how organized crime worked. How at risk he was by trying to make a move against me.
“Go on then,” the kid said, angling his chin up like an invitation. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”
“Who are you working for?”
To that, his lips curved up, his dark green eyes taking on a devilish light. “Myself.”
Cocky fucker.
“Let’s try this again. Who told you to be a Lombardi bagman?”
“You know… seem to have some amnesia, man,” he said.
This asshole.
I almost wanted to respect him.
If he didn’t possess the information about the rat in my organization, I would.
“Alright then,” I said, sucking in a deep breath as I curled my fist, and struck.
His head whipped to the side as the crack of the punch filled the room.
“That all you got?” he asked, turning back to face me, a smirk tugging at his lips.
My gaze flicked up to Dav standing behind him, knowing him well enough to communicate shit without saying a word.
This guy wasn’t going to crack easily.
An hour later, I had blood on my hands, smattering my shoes. There was a tooth on the floor, and blood steadily trickling down the kids face. From a gash near his eye. From his lip and mouth. Bruises were already starting to form.
He didn’t scream.
Didn’t try to call for help.
Didn’t beg for mercy.
No.
This fucker kept taunting me.