Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“We can do this easily,” I offer, almost kindly, “or we can do this creatively.”
He stays silent.
Creativity, it is.
I drag the chair sideways until he’s under the harshest spotlight. His sweat glistens.
My pulse slows in that familiar, pleasurable way. Violence is the only thing in the world that can calm my rage, and today I’m raging.
“Talk,” I whisper.
He trembles.
My blade taps his cheek. “Talk.”
Nothing.
I drive the knife into his upper arm, taking careful measures not to hit any major arteries. A tortured scream escapes his mouth as he jerks so hard the chair skids.
“You know what I hate?” I ask, standing tall and spreading my hands like I’m hosting a seminar. “Wasted potential.” My gaze drops to him. “And wasted time.”
Rafe shifts, gaze scanning the door out of habit. “We can do this without killing him.”
I blink slowly. “That’s adorable.”
The rat makes a choking sound, yet he still doesn’t talk. I turn to Rafe behind me and reach out my hand.
Rafe is already smiling and prepared as he hands me a set of pliers.
Returning my attention to my guest, I grab his hand and rip off one of his nails. “Last chance,” I say again, voice soft now. “Who? Or do I need to rip off each one . . .”
After a long, ragged pause, he croaks, “It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”
My brows lift. “Oh? So there is a ‘far.’” I lean in, voice velvet over steel. “Keep going.”
“I-I can’t.”
I bring my mouth close to his ear, the words sliding in like poison. “You will.”
He opens his mouth—finally about to do something intelligent—
And passes out.
I stare at his limp body.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “I only stabbed him once. What the fuck.”
Rafe shrugs. “He’s breathing at least. Better luck next time?”
“But you know how much I hate waiting.”
Rafe gestures toward a bucket of water sitting nearby. He came prepared for my personality. “You want us to wake him?”
“No,” I decide, straightening and rolling my shoulders. “Not yet.” I flick a look at the rat. “Let him dream. Maybe his subconscious is braver than he is.”
Rafe’s eyes narrow. “There’s more . . .”
I glance over.
He steps closer, voice dropping into business—into war. “The skimming wasn’t isolated. Money’s being funneled offshore. Multiple accounts. Layers and proxies.”
“Someone’s making a play.” The familiar edge of war sharpens inside me, bright and clean. Better than lust. Better than regret.
Rafe nods once. “Someone with reach.”
I smile slowly. “Good. I’ve been bored.”
Two men drag the unconscious idiot away, boots scraping, chains clinking.
I stand alone for a moment, breathing in the cold warehouse air, letting the violence settle under my skin like ink.
And because life enjoys humiliating me, Victoria’s face flashes behind my eyes anyway.
Her voice. Her rage.
I shove it down viciously.
Not now.
War first.
I need my uncle on my side and busy; that way he won’t interfere with my marital bliss. Solid plan. Hopefully, we can find out who put the scumbag up to stealing from us.
I walk toward the steel exit door, my boots echoing like a countdown to someone’s funeral.
“Find me names,” I warn, not looking back. “Not theories. Names.”
“You’ll get them,” Rafe replies.
“Good. Because I’m in the mood to kill someone.”
And God help whoever it ends up being.
37
Victoria
Dinner feels like a hostage negotiation.
I’m currently sitting across from him, which isn’t saying much, because this room certainly isn’t intimate.
It’s huge.
This place doesn’t fit the man I know . . . knew.
I don’t know him now.
The table is long enough to seat a small nation, and Lorenzo, like the asshole he is, sits at the head like he was born into royalty.
And now that I know that his uncle runs the Amante crime family . . . I guess he is.
Despite everything, the man is gorgeous. He looks like he’s carved from stone. With broad shoulders and a squared jaw, it’s unfair he’s this handsome. Don’t even get me started on his deep brown eyes.
It should be criminal how much, even after all these years, I’m still attracted to him. And of course, I’m stuck sitting across from him.
Front row to my own personal nightmare.
There’s no one else here but us. It’s odd. Why does he pick to eat here if the rest of the spots are empty?
As if he can hear my inner thoughts, Rafe steps into the room.
Good. At least with him here, I won’t have to make small talk with Lorenzo.
He leans against the doorway, deciding whether he’s going to come sit or just stare. His gaze flicks over me.
Come on . . . join us.
Please.
“What are you waiting for? Sit or leave,” Lorenzo barks out, and if I could, I’d throw my fork and stab him with it.
Rafe, on the other hand, doesn’t seem put off by Lorenzo’s attitude and chuckles.
“Wasn’t sure if you lovebirds wanted company.”
“We do.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and Rafe can’t help but smirk.