Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“I’ll head there.”
It was only a ten-minute drive from where I was. “Make sure everything is ready for tonight,” I told the manager before I left the club. I’d have to discuss with Dad how to keep the mayor in check. I didn’t want him to start investigating more.
When I pulled up in front of the Cantina, one of the front windows was broken, and I could hear screams and shooting inside. I pulled my own gun. I hadn’t thought it was this serious. Dammit, what was going on?
I ducked my head and ran toward the front door, then peered in. Two of my soldiers were caught in a shooting match, one hidden behind the bar, the other behind an overturned table. I could see Renato’s grandfather peering out of the kitchen, a gun in hand.
“Put your weapons down now!” I ordered. “It’s me, Samuel.”
Another shot was fired from behind the bar. “He fucked my wife!” The voice sounded raspy and weak.
“Weapons down! That’s a fucking order.”
The soldier behind the table tossed his gun to the center. Then nothing. I slowly walked inside as Renato’s grandfather stepped out and looked at something behind the bar. He bent down, then straightened and shook his head.
“Fuck.”
I stalked toward the guy behind the table and dragged him to his feet, but he moaned and clutched his bleeding side. “Call our doctor,” I shouted.
Renato’s grandfather picked up his phone.
“What the fuck happened here?”
He winced, holding his side. “I slept with his wife, and he found out. I came here to grab dinner for my family before the restaurant opened, and he cornered me.”
I pushed him down on a chair with force. “I suppose your wife doesn’t know you fucked around.”
He shook his head, paling more as he lost more blood. I headed around the bar where the other man had bled out from two shot wounds to his belly. I looked around. Two windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and several tables were ruined. The restaurant wouldn’t open tonight. I didn’t need word about this to spread. The mayor might try to use it against us until I’d figured out a safe way to get him under control.
“Thanks for coming,” Renato’s grandfather said and handed me a bottle of vintage Brunello, one of my favorites. I took it, then called our cleanup crew and headed back to my car. I put the bottle down on the passenger seat.
I really wanted a drink.
Emma wasn’t home yet. She was with Giorgia. She wouldn’t find out if I had a drink if I showered and brushed my teeth.
I started the car and gave the club manager another call to ask how things were going—too slow—and then I called Renato to tell him his grandparents were okay, but the restaurant wasn’t. After that, I drove to the dead soldier’s family. His wife cried over his death, and maybe it wasn’t even fake. His three kids were definitely distraught. I hated being the harbinger of bad news like that, especially when my own men were responsible for a death. I’d have to figure out how to punish the surviving soldier. He too had kids.
When I arrived home, I stayed in the car for a while, debating if I should take the wine bottle with me. I messaged Emma.
I got my favorite wine as a gift today.
It was only a small part of the story, but I knew it was enough.
Immediately, Emma’s name flashed across my screen. I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have disturbed her. Now she’d feel obligated to return home early. I picked it up.
“I’ll be home in thirty minutes,” she said. She probably wasn’t alone.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to rush. I’ve been alone with the bottle for a while now.” My voice sounded relaxed and certain, but my insides craved that wine.
“I know it’s going to be fine.” Emma too sounded sure. I wondered if she was. “But I’ll be home soon. I’m tired.”
I hung up and grabbed the bottle, then walked into the house. I could hear pots clinking in the kitchen, but I walked straight to my office, grabbed a glass and a bottle opener, then sat on the armchair in front of the fireplace. The familiar scent of berries and tannins flooded my nose as I poured myself a generous glass. I watched the dark red liquid and whirled it around in the glass so it could breathe and really develop its aroma.
Would a drink get rid of my problems with the mayor? No. Would it help me find a just punishment for the cheating soldier? No.
But it would surely make it seem that way for a little while.
I found Samuel in his office, sitting in his armchair in a half-unbuttoned shirt and swirling a dark red liquid in a wineglass. His jacket and tie lay discarded on the hardwood floor. His blond brows pulled together as he regarded the alcohol in the glass. I stopped in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he didn’t, only kept staring at the glass.