Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
He carries me back to the bed and takes a condom from the box before crawling onto the rumpled covers while I cling to him like a spider monkey.
Georgi lies down on top of me, and I’m completely covered by his much larger body. I feel so warm and protected, and getting lost in kissing him, I try not to think about him leaving to face the monsters who tortured me for close to a decade.
Chapter 28
Georgi
I caught up on sleep during the flight to Spain, and as Santino drives us in the direction Rosie gave, I’m checking my weapons.
It was dumb luck that she found the fuckers. Someone posted a video on social media of a sunset, and across the road was Boris and Anton, sitting on a porch.
There was a white Mercedes parked in the driveway of a shitty house that’s a far cry from the luxuries the two men must be used to.
“Get ready,” Santino tells all the men via his earpiece. “We want them alive.”
I check in my side mirror and see the two SUV’s tucked in close on our tail. Al and Frankie are right behind us with Jerry, Sal, and Braylon bringing up the rear.
I left a small army to guard the women, and Dad said he, Fabrizion, and Vincenzo would do regular checks for me.
Raya assured me she will spend a lot of time with Nina so they can get to know each other.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. It will mean the world to me if they could become good friends.
Suddenly, a white Mercedes reverses out of a driveway before tearing down the road.
“Fuck.” Santino slams his foot down on the gas, and the SUV shoots forward.
The quiet town quickly falls behind us as we chase after Boris and Anton, and we manage to get close enough to verify that both men are in the car. Anton is in the passenger seat with Boris in the back. The guard whose name I can’t remember is driving.
Soon we find ourselves racing along mountain roads that wind down to Ronda, the engine roaring beneath our seats.
The road narrows, and to our left is the mountain wall, while on our right, there’s a steep cliffside.
Santino takes a sharp turn, gravel spraying beneath the SUV. The Mercedes barely holds around the bend, and a rock shoots up from its tires, hitting our windshield and making a crack splinter through the glass.
“Closer,” I order, my voice harsh with my need for vengeance. We’re too close to let the fuckers get away.
Suddenly, the Mercedes' back lights go on as the fucker slams on the brakes. Santino swerves, avoiding a full-blown collision, and comes up beside them.
I look Boris dead in the eyes, then grin and wave with my gun in my hand while letting down the window.
“Miss me, motherfucker?” I shout, and training my barrel on the side, back window, I pull the trigger.
He ducks down, probably lying flat on the seat to avoid the bullets.
Suddenly, he darts up again and takes a wild shot at me, but he misses, and the bullet hits the back door.
Santino jerks the wheel, keeping us from going down the cliffside, and we push the Mercedes into the wall, the sound of metal scraping sharp in the air.
Tires screech, and dust kicks up into the air as Boris fires another shot, the bullet missing us completely and hitting somewhere behind us.
The Mercedes’ back window is blown out by one of my men, and Santino laughs as he drives the accelerator to the floor.
Suddenly, the road grows wider, and our bumper smashes into the Mercedes, hard enough to send the sedan snaking across the dry terrain, rocks and sand shooting up from the tires.
“Let’s end this,” I growl at Santino.
“On it.” He turns the steering wheel hard, and we follow the Mercedes off the road.
I think of the cells I have beneath one of my warehouses. They were inspired by Damiano, our retired capo dei capi. These fuckers are going to die in those cells if it’s the last thing I do.
For Nina.
For Simi.
For me.
Gunfire erupts again as Al and the others close in, coming up on either side of us so we can box in the Mercedes between the vehicles and force it to a stop.
We come up on the right again, and this time I lean out of the window and aim at the rear tire. Both shots rip through the rubber, and the Mercedes pitches sideways before cartwheeling into the air. It lands with a crash of metal and glass, and I shout, “Fuck. They better not be dead!”
Santino brakes so hard the belt cuts into my chest, and before he brings the SUV to a stop, I shove the door open and jump out.
“Wait for me!” Santino shouts.