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 sometimes wondered what I would do if I ran across Remo Falcone. I wanted nothing more than to kill him for what he’d done, for what he’d taken from me. Unfortunately, I knew by killing him, I’d hurt Serafina. She wouldn’t magically stop loving him because I killed him. Worse, she’d probably romanticize his whole existence even more than before. She had forgiven him for kidnapping her, something I could never do and could not understand.
Sometimes I thought I’d kill him anyway. I’d kill him for Enea, Arlo, and Domenico. I owed it to them. They had given their lives for me and my sister. Remo had murdered them, yet they hadn’t been avenged.
“Did you listen to a word I just said?”
I gave Renato a look. He parked the car in front of an Outfit warehouse where we kept bar and restaurant supplies, but in its underbelly, cells for questioning had been set up.
“How are wedding preparations coming along?”
“Good?”
Renato snorted. “You have no clue.”
I shrugged. “I have more important things on my mind than matching napkins to candles.” I got out of the car, and Renato joined me soon after.
He grinned. “What about your bride? You never talk to me about her. Have you made any progress? Are you excited about the wedding night?”
I cocked an eyebrow. Renato and I were used to chatting about our affairs and one-night stands. He obviously thought I’d keep up that kind of talk about my future wife.
“With that face, she’s a ten out of ten. The wheelchair makes me really curious about certain positions, though—”
I shoved him so hard he slammed against the side of his car, then got in his face. “We’re best friends, and I’d die for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for disrespecting my fiancée. So stop talking about her like that.”
Renato raised his palms. “You’re right.”
I took a step back and blew out a breath. He was right. Emma was incredibly beautiful, and if I allowed myself to think about our wedding night, I’d be eager as hell, but my mind was elsewhere, and right now, Emma wasn’t mine yet. She wasn’t even of age yet, so I simply wouldn’t entertain those distracting thoughts.
We entered the warehouse after entering a code into a panel, then crossed one of the aisles to the end of the vast hall until we reached a flap door. A steep staircase led to a basement. The flickering halogen lights stung my eyes as we followed a guard’s pointing finger toward a cell to our right. Inside, we found a no-name from the Camorra. Some lowly soldier from Kansas City. It was the Camorra city closest to our territory.
Several years ago, we’d killed the Underboss there and tried to kill the new one too. Now things were less potent.
Only men like the one in front of me died nowadays. We contented ourselves with pissing each other off. Maybe one day, I’d get the chance to kill another Camorrista of importance.
The Camorrista in front of me sat on the floor and stared up at me with prideful and stubborn eyes. He was trying to make his Capo proud, no doubt. Torture would break him like it broke all of them. All but Remo Falcone. Thinking of how I’d tortured him to within an inch of his life was still one of the fucking best moments of my life, followed by the fucking worst when my twin sister saved him.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over a hook on the wall, then began to roll up my sleeves.
The man sneered up at me. “I bet you can’t sleep at night because you dream about how Remo sticks his cock into your sister’s holes.”
I stalked toward him, grabbed him by the throat, and dragged him to his feet. Renato grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back.
“Your Capo would cut off your tongue and stick it in your ass for speaking those words.”
The man swallowed, but he simply returned my gaze.
“Don’t worry, I’m not getting anywhere near your hairy asshole. I’m not into that kind of stuff.”
“Unless it’s a pretty lady,” Renato said with a grin.
“And cutting off your tongue will have to wait until later. First, we need to have a nice long chat, don’t you agree?” I pulled out my knife, cocked an eyebrow, then dug the tip into the skin beneath his eye, drawing blood. “I asked you a question, and from now on, I expect answers, or you’ll lose all those parts of your body you don’t need for our conversation.”
Blood trickled down his cheek as my knife sank deeper into his skin. He gritted his teeth, wincing. “Fuck you,” he ground out.
I smirked. “Not the answer I wanted.” I cut off his earlobe. I needed to pace myself. Starting with his eyeballs posed the risk of too much blood loss.