Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Giuseppe De Luca was the one who put a hit on my mother. On Rosie’s mother. On Dominic and Gabe’s mother. All this time, I’d maintained that he was a monster but only to outsiders and never to women or children. All this time, he’d sat at dinner tables, sharing cigars and drinks while knowing he’d murdered my mother. How many times had he commiserated with my father? My father, who fucking broke after Mom was murdered. My fucking father, his brother, a man he always swore to protect. How many times did Giuseppe tell us not to worry, that we’d get our vengeance, that the people responsible wouldn’t get away with it? I buried my hands in the sand and squeezed, a scream ripping out of me before I could stop. I was going to fucking kill him, but first, I would make him suffer. I took my phone out of my pocket and called Michael.
23
LENORA
Rocco was losing it. He hadn’t spoken a word in the two hours we’d been in the car, but I could tell he was trying hard not to snap. I’d never seen him like this. I wanted to ask what happened. I’d chased him outside, but Emma and Enrique held me back, telling me he needed a moment to himself. Emma told me to let him work it out on his own first and that he’d speak when he was ready. She’d know. Her brother was mercurial and did this often. Not Rocco, though. I’d never seen or heard anything about him losing his temper. My heart broke when I saw him sink to his knees on the beach and start to shake uncontrollably. When he came back inside, he was completely void of emotion.
That’s how he’d been during the car ride, and I didn’t know what to do. I felt that Emma was right; even a sound out of me could make him snap. I took my phone out and stared at it. I wanted to text Rosie, but I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want to text my mom since she was going through so much crap already, and I didn’t want to add to it. I was staring at a blank screen when a hand reached over, grabbed it, and tossed it out the window. It happened so quickly that I almost thought I’d imagined it. He closed the window and kept driving, his face impassive.
“What the hell, Rocco?”
His eyes flashed to mine. “No phones.”
“That was a safe phone.” My brows pulled. It was the only way for my mother to get in touch with me.
“No phone is safe,” he said, his voice leaving no room for arguments.
I let out a sputtered breath and crossed my arms. I could’ve argued and made a stink about it, but I kept replaying the image of him on the sand and decided to keep my mouth shut. What had he seen on that USB drive to make him do this 180? Maybe I’d find out before my brother and Dean got to the safe house. I wasn’t sure how far they were. I knew they were driving down from New York, but I didn’t know when they left. I didn’t even know where the hell I was. Before my trip to Naples, I’d never been to Florida. The only thing I had to go on was the highway signs, which didn’t tell me much. The last sign we passed said Port Saint Lucie. Whatever the hell that was. I brought my knees to my chest, closed my eyes, and slept.
“Get up. We’re here.”
I heard the words spoken angrily in my dream. At least, I thought it was a dream until a door shut loudly and jolted me awake. I rubbed my eyes and yawned as I sat up and looked around. Wherever we were, it was pitch black. In front of the car, I saw Rocco walking toward a house with our bags in his hands. I unbuckled my seatbelt, slipped my feet into my slides, and got out of the car. As I shut the door, I realized pebbles covered the entire perimeter. Each step made a crunching sound as I walked to the house. We were in a very remote location, judging by the darkness and endless trees around us. The building stood two stories tall, mostly enclosed in glass, except for the parts shrouded by gray siding. It was a sleek, modern-looking structure with no curves or angles to its shape; even the roof was flat. Despite its plainness, it was beautiful — something you’d expect to find on an architect’s Instagram page. Inside, Rocco flicked on the lights, switched off the alarm, and shut the door behind us, double-bolting it. I wondered how my brother and Dean would get inside if we were asleep.