Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I shook my head.
She stayed put.
I turned to her father. “I took back your guns, but it came at a price—a war with the Lombardis. Even though they’re the ones who crossed you first, they’re going to do everything they can to destroy you and claim your business. This outcome was unavoidable. Your only other option was to let them keep the guns and ignore their transgression—but that’s worse than death, in my opinion.”
Don Mancini stared at me.
“So we hit the Lombardis first. Make them pay for what they’ve done. Show no mercy. No one will ever rob you again. Do nothing—and all of Sicily will think you’re an easy target.”
Don Mancini stared at me for what felt like minutes, absolutely still, not even taking a breath. Then he shifted his attention to Leo. “Secure these in the warehouse. I’ll consider our next course of action.” Then he turned away and started to head back toward the house where Francesca stood.
I should have kept my temper in check, but I’d never done it before, and I wasn’t about to start now. “You’re welcome—by the fucking way.”
Don Mancini stopped.
Everyone else did too.
Leo shifted his gaze between his father and me.
Don Mancini slowly turned around and looked at me.
A stare-down ensued, his emotions hidden under the surface, while mine were plastered on my face like words on a page.
Then he turned away and continued into the house, followed by Elio and Salvatore and his bodyguards, who accompanied him wherever he went.
Leo turned toward me, gave me a nod, and then hopped back into the truck to drive it to the warehouse up the road.
When everyone departed, Francesca rushed to me and examined the linen I’d secured to my wound. “Cristo, you do get shot a lot.” She placed her hand against it then examined her own palm and the blood that stuck to it. “Come on. You’ve already lost a lot of blood.”
She took me into the kitchen and flicked on the light. Then she grabbed her supplies and put them on the counter of the bar while I took a seat and relaxed my arm on the table so she could do what she needed to do.
Normally, I would be enthused by the prospect of being alone with her, but right now, I didn’t feel much besides agitation. I was the most valuable resource at Don Mancini’s disposal, and he continued to dismiss me like I was worthless.
She wordlessly got to work, removing the linen and cleaning my wound. “Went right through you.”
I watched her work.
She started to stitch me up. “I can give you something for the pain when I’m done.”
“I’m fine.”
Her eyes flicked to me a couple times as she worked. “You alright?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You know what I mean.”
My eyes shifted from the wound to her eyes. “I found your stolen guns and brought them back without casualties on our side—and your father has the audacity to look at me like that. Like I don’t belong here.”
She hooked the thread through my arm and closed sections of my wound, bringing the flesh together to stop the bleeding and prepare it to heal. There would be a scar, but I already had plenty. Nothing a new layer of ink couldn’t hide. “He’s not impulsive. He likes to think things over for a while.”
“I’m not a spy. And I’m not a traitor.”
“I know.”
My eyes hardened on her face.
She continued to work, her eyes down, but when she felt my stare, she looked up again.
I’d felt a connection to her from the moment I saw her. At first, it was just desire of the flesh, but the more I observed her and spoke to her, I quickly realized it was deeper than that. I respected the hell out of her—which was why those words meant something.
The next morning, I arrived at the warehouse to work my shift, but I didn’t last until noon before I arrived at the villa and let myself into the house. I hadn’t seen Francesca today, but she wasn’t the person I sought.
At the bottom of the stairs were Don Mancini’s bodyguards.
“I want to see him.”
“Do you have an appointment?” one of them asked.
“Does your face have an appointment with my fist?” In a flash, I twisted his arm and kicked the back of his knee before I slammed my elbow hard into the back of his head. It happened so fast, the other bodyguard didn’t have the opportunity to react, so I grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head into the wall, knocking him out cold. He slid against the wall and down to the floor.
The others in the hallway froze in horror.
I headed up the stairs and approached Don Mancini’s office. I was nice enough to knock.
“What the fuck is it?” he barked.
I let myself inside and approached his desk.