Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Chapter Nine
Rafe
"Has he said anything?" I ask Mattia, slipping into the warehouse at the harbor where he's holding Carmine. It's late and I'm fucking exhausted, but I won't sleep until this motherfucker is dead. He put his hands on Amalia, tried to take her from me. The only reason he's alive right now is because she needed me.
She's been inconsolable. Every tear she shed burned like acid. The monster inside howled in fury over each and every one, demanding blood, screaming for vengeance. I want to kill him slowly, painfully, make him pay for every second of fear and grief she's endured today. I also desperately want to get back to her. The devil wars with the lover, and I'm not sure which side is winning right now. It's a hell of a thing, realizing both sides are in perfect accord on one subject only. Her.
Everything I do now is for her.
"Some," Mattia says, his expression grim. His knuckles are bruised, the cuffs of his shirt stained with Carmine's blood. "You aren't going to like it."
"Tell me."
"He's working for Genovese."
"Mafankulo," I growl.
"Genovese wants the girl. He thinks she's someone else."
"Who?"
"Carmine won't say."
"Won't say or doesn't know?"
"Won't say." Mattia gives me a look. "Whoever Genovese thinks she is, he doesn't want you to know. I've worked this testa di cazzo over and he's not talking. I can try again but…" He glances over his shoulder at Carmine.
I follow his gaze. Carmine is pale, blood dripping from multiple cuts on his face. His shirt is soaked with it. So are his pants. And still, he sits upright, his head held high, a smirk on his face. He won't break. He's Cosa Nostra. We don't bow. We don't bend. We certainly don't fucking break. We're tempered steel, forged in the fires of Omertà. Silence is encoded in our DNA. It's who we are.
Who the fuck do they think Amalia is? And why are they so desperate to keep me from finding out? I don't know, but I don't like it. Better question. Why the fuck did Genovese warn me about the price on her head if he was the one who set it?
"Let me see your knife," I say, holding out my hand to Mattia.
He hands it over without question.
I pace toward Carmine who watches me with that same smirk. I see the wariness in his eyes though, the pain and the exhaustion. He's not nearly as unaffected as he'd like us to think. He'll keep his mouth shut until the very end because that's who he is, but it'll cost him.
"I warned you about touching her," I say quietly, fighting the urge to sink the knife into him. As much as I want to do it, as much as I want to make him pay over and over again for touching her…there's more at stake here than satisfying my own perverse need to make this motherfucker suffer until the very end. "Now you have a choice to make."
"What choice?"
"You can answer my questions and I'll kill you quick," I say. "Or you can piss me off and I'll do exactly what I said I would. I'll kill you so fucking slowly you'll howl for death by the time I'm done." I smile, a cold, deadly smile. "Your choice, Carmine."
"I'm not telling you who she is."
"That's not one of my questions."
He eyes me warily.
"Why did Genovese warn me about the bounty on her?"
"He knew chasing the lead would keep you busy and give me time to get her out of there," he says a little too quickly. He's lying. I'm just not sure why.
"If he's so interested in her, why didn't he grab her before I brought her home with me?"
"I can't answer that."
"Can't or won't?"
"Won't."
Which is answer enough, I suppose. Either he didn't know about her before I brought her home with me, or he wants her out of my hold specifically. Or both. If I had to guess, I'd say he didn't know about her until she was under my roof…and he requested the sit-down to find out how much I knew about her. He doesn't want me to know who she is and he's praying I don't find out before he gets his hands on her.
So who the fuck does he think she is?
I'm too goddamn tired to even try to figure it out tonight.
I circle around behind Carmine's chair and cut the tape binding his hands, ready to get this over with so I can get home to Amalia. Right now, more than anything, I just want to hold her in my arms and remind myself that she's okay. This motherfucker didn't get out of the house with her. Genovese didn't get his hands on her. She's safe in our bed where she belongs. No one took her from me. And no one will. Whoever they think she is, whatever game they're playing, they won't win. She's mine, today, tomorrow, always.