Brutal Power – Arranged Marriage Mafia Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
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“Layers of risk management,” I tell him and shimmy in his lap. I feel him stiffening underneath me even though I’m not doing anything particularly sexy. It’s more like he can’t help himself—whenever I’m around, he’s constantly stroking me, kissing me, getting hard for me. And I love that about him.

I’m about to explain more about our family’s structure when his phone starts to ring. It’s a nice little vibration right under my ass, and I hop up before he can grab on and hold me down. He sighs like it’s the worst thing in the world and answers.

“Yes? Mom? Slow down, hold on. They’re sitting out front?” He sits up straight, staring down at the ground, face blank. “Tell Seamus not to move. I’m serious, tell him to stay fucking put, I’ll be there in a second.”

He jabs a finger at the phone screen and shoves it in his pocket as he gets to his feet.

“What’s going on?” I follow him to the door.

“Apparently a couple of very shady guys are sitting outside of my mother’s house and Seamus wants to go over there and kill him.” He gives me a hard look. “I have a fire to put out.”

“Want me to come?”

“No, I’d feel better knowing you’re here and safe.” He pauses long enough to pull me against him and kiss me, then hurries out front, and is gone.

Chapter 36

Brody

Idrive hard back to my mother’s place. Fucking Seamus, if he goes out there half-cocked and gets himself killed, or murders some random bystanders all because they look a little shady, I’m going to be absolutely livid.

There’s too much up in the air right now. I don’t need more scrutiny on the family, not when I’m trying to juggle a few separate plans. If I fuck any of them up, I might end up getting people killed.

This is how my brother operates. When he commits, he goes all-in like a freaking obsessive, and I wonder where the guy that didn’t want to get into a fight disappeared to, because suddenly all he wants to do is murder Santoro soldiers and take stupid risks.

I think the shooting at the house changed him. Even if it was just my truck getting lit up, he still saw men firing weapons at his mother’s home, and it must’ve really sunk in how exposed we are. There’s no heavily fortified oasis for the Quinn organization, just a house in a decent Irish neighborhood and an office in the middle of downtown. We’ve made it work until now, but I’m starting to wonder if it shouldn’t be my mother moving in with Elena while I stay out here.

I careen the truck into the driveway. Seamus is standing on the front porch with a very conspicuous gun bulging under the front of his sweatshirt. The fucker’s not even trying to hide it. He’s staring at a black SUV parked across the street and the two men sitting inside of it, their silhouettes barely visible through the tinted glass.

“How long have they been there?” I ask him.

“Too long.” He gives me a hard look. “We should shoot first and ask questions later.”

“That’s how you end up in prison, bro.” I squeeze his arm. “Stay here and watch my back, alright? If I signal for you, come running. Otherwise, just trust me.”

“You know who these guys are?”

“I have a guess. You just need to trust me, okay?”

He clearly doesn’t like that, but I don’t wait around long enough for him to change his mind. I stalk off toward the SUV, and as I get close, the driver’s window rolls down.

Luca Moretti gives me a hard stare and I stop in the middle of the street ten feet away from him. “Does your brother realize that he could go to prison carrying around a gun like that?”

“What do you want, Moretti?”

He stares at me for another few seconds like he’s trying to decide what to say. Then he shrugs and looks straight ahead. “Boss wants to meet.”

“When and where?”

“Now and wherever I take you.” He glances over again. “Unless that’s a problem.”

I don’t move. Because yeah, that’s a fucking problem. If Santoro wants to kill me, this is basically like walking right into his trap. I could get in this vehicle, let them drive me to a pre-dug grave, and there wouldn’t be anything I could do to stop the bullet from burrowing through my skull.

But this is what I wanted, and I have to take risks if this plan is going to come together.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

He hits a button and the doors unlock. I climb into the back where a third man’s waiting for me, a big thug-looking guy that does his best to pat me down. I’m not carrying, and so he finds nothing. The thug sitting up front with Moretti stares me down with hard, dark eyes, and I wonder if he’s the shooter in this group.



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