Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I stare into the night and think about my future wife. She wasn’t too happy to see me the last time I went to check on her. I’ve never met someone so defensive before. I swear, I could’ve shown up with flowers and money, and she would’ve assumed I was trying to insult her somehow. But even with all that anger and mistrust, she still looked fucking glorious covered in dirt and grease and wearing that oversized clothing. Even better now that I know what she’s hiding under there.
Years of working on cars made her lean and hard. Her muscles are toned and incredible. Two weeks after fucking her, and I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about getting another taste. I can’t help myself. It’s like a sick obsession.
“There he is,” Stefano says gently, and I look over. Mario’s crossing the street with his two friends. All three get into the Altima together.
“Damn,” I murmur. “That’s a shame.”
“Should we call it off?” Stefano’s frowning at me.
I shake my head. “Collateral can’t be helped.” I reach up and touch my earpiece. “Davide. I need a good spot to ambush these fuckers. You got your maps up?”
“Once they’re moving, I’ll work on something,” he says right away.
“Alright, Enzo and Leo, you two stay close.”
When Mario pulls out, I wait a moment before we follow, keeping a safe distance behind. “Hacked his GPS,” Davide says, sounding very pleased with himself. A route suddenly appears on my truck’s entertainment screen. “That should do it.”
“Where was he going?” Leo asks, sounding curious.
“Strip club.”
I grunt because, of course, he was. Stefano grins at me. “Man of simple tastes,” he says.
We follow Mario for a few blocks as he moves south. Davide’s guiding him along without him even realizing. Our resident hacker not only plans and maintains the depot’s legitimate trucking routes, but he’s also one of the most skilled cybercriminals I’ve ever met. The only problem is, he doesn’t like leaving his little command post, and he’s extremely introverted.
The neighborhoods here are rough. Fewer street lights, more boarded-up houses. I make a few turns, drive fast, until I reach a little side street. I count to ten in my head, watching the dot move along on the screen, until I slam down on the gas.
The Nissan appears as I’m barreling toward the intersection. Poor Mario doesn’t have a chance. He tries to brake, but it’s way too late. I slam into the driver’s side door, smashing the little sedan sideways and sending it skittering around in circles. My seatbelt digs into my shoulders, but my truck’s been reinforced for this exact purpose. Metal and plastic pieces fly into the air, and Mario’s windshield shatters against his passengers. Seconds later, Enzo and Leo pull up, their BMW screeching to a halt behind the Nissan as I put the truck in park and leap out, Stefano right behind me.
The car doesn’t move. There’s silence and stillness inside. I keep my gun up and ready. Stefano moves around to the side while Leo and Enzo flank the other ends. I approach the driver’s door carefully, watching as Mario slowly lifts his head, his brow bleeding into his eyes, and blinks in confusion at me.
“Who the fuck?” he starts, but I’m already yanking open his door. I grab him by the shirt and yank him out before shoving my gun in past him. The first passenger stares in shock and barely has time to register what’s happening before I put a bullet in his head. His brains splatter the other guy, who understandably starts screaming his fucking face off. I finish him a second later.
Behind me, Enzo’s got Mario down on the ground. Three guns are pointed at the bastard’s face as Stefano and Leo join him. I make sure the dead passengers are very dead before turning to the little group.
“The fuck?” Mario’s saying over and over. “What the fuck? What the fuck?”
I crouch down and stare into his eyes.
He looks like nothing. That’s what pisses me off the most. This man nearly killed my future wife. He hurt her, traumatized her, fucked with her family’s business, and he’s barely even scum. The man’s so far beneath my notice that he’s nothing. He’s a stain on the concrete.
“Who hired you to attack the Serrano family’s garage?”
He blinks at me rapidly. “The what? Who are you? What’s going on?”
I shove my gun against his neck. “Who hired you to attack the Serrano family’s garage?”
Mario’s face goes pale. He stares around him at the grim faces of my crew.
“We need to be fast,” Enzo murmurs, always the sensible one. “Kill him so we can get out of here.”
“Wait.” Mario’s eyes go wide. “Hold on. Please, don’t.”
“The garage.” I press the gun harder against his throat. “Tell me who hired you to attack the Serrano family’s garage.”