Enrico (The Conti Crime Family #3) Read Online C.M. Steele

Categories Genre: Insta-Love, Novella Tags Authors: Series: The Conti Crime Family Series by C.M. Steele

Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)

She wasn’t supposed to be on my radar. Another woman who was caught up in the traffickers’ sights, but one look at January and I’d become as lost as Dario and Alessio before me. I had no choice but to hunt her down and make her mine, even if that meant doing some illegal things. Nothing new to me anyway.

The brute. I spotted him and knew he was trouble, but deep down, I hadn’t expected to crave his crazy. Trying to flee a dangerous situation, I jumped right into another. The brute had me captive, and I had no choice but to trust him because someone was after me. I desired his insanity even as I pushed him to get away. Should I flee and risk running into danger, or should I stay and endanger my heart and soul?

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Chapter One


As much as I like June, I’ve been annoyed with Alessio’s lack of focus on delicate matters, and the fact that the boss hasn’t been much better has stressed me out as well. I’ve had to handle two issues this week that could have gone south if I’d waited for them to pull their heads out of their asses.

Women ruin your focus, and they could get us killed. Alessio and the boss are thinking with the wrong head. I wouldn’t be caught falling on my ass for a woman, but I’m not letting them go down, so I pick up the slack and follow their lead.

“Dario, there are two other tenants that live on the third floor, but they are an old couple in their seventies,” Alessio says as we prepare to visit Randall Johnson, who is May and June Beaman’s landlord. He’s shown May too much attention, and Dario doesn’t appreciate it. It’s that shit I find crazy, but whatever. If he considers it disrespect, then I’m there to make the fucker more respectful, even if that silences the bastard forever.

“Good. They won’t be a problem. I’m betting they’ll be asleep by the time we arrive.”

“Shit, they were probably asleep two hours ago,” I say, thinking about my nonno who would be out before the show he loved would come on. I had to record it so he didn’t miss it.

“Hey, don’t talk too much shit, Enrico. You’ll be old one day, napping at noon.”

“Fuck, I don’t mind napping. I just know my nonno was out on the recliner by seven every night.” I miss him. It’s been years since he some sick fuck killed him, but I remember all the good years I had with him.

“I get it.” Someone’s a little on edge over his woman. “Now, let’s move. I want this handled tonight because I have other plans.” Of course he does, and she’s the reason we’re here in the first place. I’m more anxious than edgy.

Dealing with Johnson will be nothing. Men like him are a dime a dozen, but I’m just ready to get this over with. There’s a strange tension in me. I can’t explain the feeling that’s been in my head all day, but it lingers there.

We hop into two blacked-out vehicles, turn off all tracking devices, as always, and make our approach to Jefferson Park. Once we reach her block, we dip off to a side street out of the way of prying eyes and into an alley. The street is quiet even though there’s a couple of crackheads buzzing about around the corner.

Still, we sneak in, popping the shitty lock to the side gate leading to the gangway and the back of the apartment building. The backyard is nothing but broken concrete with weeds coming up from under it with junk parts lying around. It’s clear the women don’t use the area for entertaining and probably aren’t even allowed back here.

A low growl emanates from each of us. Fuck—we need to maintain control before we draw attention to ourselves. Dario tosses us a warning look and then we slink in the back way, easily opening the door to the main floor.

The sound of the television plays as we move closer to his apartment door. I have the key that Luca made when we went spying earlier in the day. Skills, the man has them in spades, and he easily made a copy for us. Once we pop the door open, we’re met with a startled Johnson, nearly naked on a recliner.

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouts, jumping out of his chair.

Dario is silent, anger and tension just pouring from his body, because on Johnson’s fucking center monitor screen is May walking in just a towel. It must be from earlier in the day or a previous one because she’s at work right now. It doesn’t matter, because it shouldn’t fucking be there.

Still, it’s not the only fucked-up image in front of us. There are six screens full of different women, mostly May and June from the upstairs apartment, but several others I’m not familiar with. I can’t tell when the videos were filmed, but it doesn’t matter. Although, the videos aren’t the only offending content in sight.

The bastard also has photos blatantly posted on his wall; there are several on a peg board that catch my eye because of one female in particular is in every single one of them. Most of the time she’s with May and June.

My mouth waters, chest constricts while my blood boils. A new feeling washes over me as I realize who she must be. She must be January.

She’s in the apartment with the other two girls, smiling, her long, curly red hair loose with her hand pressed to her ample chest. There’s one photo that calls directly to me. It’s as if she poses for it, but we know these are stolen shots. She’s smiling for the unknown camera, giggling while wearing a green shirt that brings out her eyes.