Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Joey stated laughing, genuinely laughing at what he heard. “And what makes you think you could have me or anyone else in the Bacelli family getting hurt? Do you know who the fuck you are dealing with?”
“I want all of your connections. I want you to work for me. I have lived in the background long enough, watched from the shadows as you and our father had a nice relationship, one where he took you to games, taught you everything he knew, and totally forgot about me.” Carlos raised his voice.
“I don’t work for anyone. I am the Boss of this family. You are not a Bacelli, will never be one, and you sure as fuck aren’t going to be running things.”
“It’s my fucking time to take over the family business,” Carlos said with deranged determination.
Joey had his hand on the phone still, and just as he grinned, about to dial that one number that would bring this house down, there was a voice that came from beside him that had his blood running cold.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, Joey.”
Angie’s voice was right beside him, and he turned and stared at her, pissed that she had the nerve to follow him, because that was the only way she would be standing here right now. “Leave, Angie. Now is not the fucking time for you to be here.” Shit was about to go down, but he knew once his boys busted in the strippers would be ushered out, or at least he hoped that was the case. Right now he couldn’t worry about collateral damage, because if he did he wouldn’t be able to take down this crew that thought of hurting the people he cared about.
“An old piece of pussy,” Carlos said and grinned. “I was just talking to Joey about the new piece of ass he has on the side. She’s a pretty dark haired little thing, Portuguese I think.” For whatever reason Carlos was clearly trying to stir more of the shit in the pot.
“Joey, what is he talking about? You got rid of me for another bitch?”
He so didn’t need this shit right now, and wasn’t going to deal with Angie’s drama. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.” He emphasized the last word, and when he saw her nostrils flare he knew she was about to blow a gasket. She was feisty in a psycho bitch kind of way, and at first it had been exciting because when they were young she matched him and his temperament, but right now she needed to get the fuck going, because she’d get hurt in the crossfire.
“Joey, what the hell is going on here? You’ve been avoiding me, blowing me off like I was nothing but a piece of ass to you.” She was raising her voice now, the hysterics picking up.
And then to his utter shock—to a point at least—Angie pulled out a small handgun. The tears were rolling down her face, and it was clear she was about as stable as this whole situation.
And the sight of that gun and the way she was trembling told Joey this would be closed down now. He pushed that one button, knew that the phone would ring only once before his brother picked up, and then the doors would be busted down. And then more of his crew that were waiting a little farther down would follow suit.
Joey gritted his teeth and glanced at Carlos, Kelly, and then back at Angie.
One.
Two.
Three.
On that last number he grabbed the edge of the table and pushed it up and toward Carlos. It caught the other man off guard enough that Joey could grab hold of Kelly’s arm and pull her toward him, and push Angie to the ground. The doors had already burst open, sounds of gunfire came through, and women screamed.
“Joey,” Kelly said softly, but she was right beside him and he heard her clearly. He pushed Angie and Kelly behind an empty booth, and went for Carlos. The other man was just getting the table off of him, and his face was a mask of rage. He reached behind him for the gun presumably at the small of his back, and Joey lunged forward and tackled him. They crashed into the back of the booth, and Joey clocked him in the face.
When Carlos was stunned for a second he reached for his gun. Carlos slammed his fist into the side of Joey’s face, and he cursed out and felt his anger grow.
The gunfire was all around them, the sound of screams, glass shattering, and of males’ shouting filled the room.
“I’m going to fucking rip your throat out,” Carlos grunted as they wrestled with the gun.
“Not before I fill your worthless body with bullets,” Joey growled back.
They crashed to the ground, and Joey got control of the gun. But Carlos had a knife that he had gotten from somewhere, and sliced the blade across Joey’s neck, just centimeters from his jugular. Carlos got the upper hand, threw Joey onto his back. Joey grabbed his neck, felt the warmth of his blood on his fingers, and grunted from the weight of Carlos on him.