Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
This was not Renzo, my husband.
This man was Renzo Lombardi, the mob boss.
The one that, whether they would admit it or not, had scared the crap out of my family for years because of his notorious ruthlessness.
His gaze slid from me and cut toward his cousin and the driver.
“Who put their fucking hands on my wife?” he snapped, his voice cutting enough for the men to stiffen.
But it was then that Renzo saw them.
My pants.
Draped casually over the shoulder of the driver.
He moved so fast that I swore he blurred.
And I, well, I finally took myself into the office, feeling like I didn’t want to have to see what was going to happen next.
I threw myself into the corner, my hands pressed to my ears, and started to hum.
And prayed for it all to be over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Renzo
If there was one thing I could say about my cousin, it was that he was a fucking idiot.
Which worked in my favor.
It was why, even if he’d been cunning enough to take me out before I could figure out his plans, he would never be able to keep the title of boss. Someone else would see how short-sighted he was, how ill-equipped he was to engage in multi-step thinking.
Then they’d take his ass out.
One of Michael’s rackets was boosting and stripping cars.
It took all of five seconds of thought to know that was where he would have to take Lore.
To his garage.
His apartment wasn’t possible, given all the neighbors. And his only other business had nowhere to bring an unwilling woman. Let alone to lure and try to kill me.
Rico had taken Elian to the hospital as the rest of us rallied, making Cage rush over with a fully-loaded SUV.
Weapons, penetrating tools, the whole fucking shebang.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, gasoline waiting for a match.
And as Cage knocked the door in, then Dav and Cinna secured the scene, and I walked in to find Lore there, I almost thought the fire would never start.
She was there.
She was alive.
Her face was scratched and bruised.
But minor, minor fucking damage.
Unacceptable, sure, and they’d pay, but not enough to set me off.
Until, of course, my gaze slipped downward, looking for any other injuries.
And I saw her kneeling there on the filthy fucking floor… in her panties.
Match.
Strike.
Flame.
I was a motherfucking inferno as I charged at the fuckhead who had my woman’s pants on his shoulder. Like he had a right to have them there. After ripping them off her body while panic flooded her system.
Had he touched her?
Hurt her?
While she cried out for me?
And I came too fucking late?
I was aware of Cinna moving in, dragging Michael out of the way as Dav kept his gun poised on the man.
I imagined Cage would have the cuffs out, locking Michael down, holding onto him for me.
Because it was going to be a while as I grabbed one of the hands raised up at me, trying to fend me off, acting all fucking innocent.
Grab.
Twist.
The crackling sound of multiple bones breaking had the blood whooshing through my ears, almost drowning out the sweet fucking sound of the asshole’s screams.
“You thought you could put your hands on my woman?” I growled as my fist slammed into his jaw with enough force to send him flying, trying to scramble up on his knees and one good arm.
Only to fall back over again as my foot collided with his center.
Once, knocking his wind out.
Twice, hearing the crack of ribs breaking.
The third time, well, let’s just say that the man would never be using his dick on another woman again. Neither consensually or otherwise.
Not that I was going to let him breathe anyway.
But he had that pain coming.
I dropped down on top of him, my fists swinging, colliding, the impact ricocheting up my arms, making my shoulders, and jaw hurt.
But that only seemed to feed more fuel to the fire as I grabbed both sides of his head, slamming down on the floor once, twice, watching his eyes go unfocused.
No.
Nope.
Not that easy.
I wanted him to fucking suffer.
Like he planned to do to Lore.
Reaching back, I grabbed her pants that had fallen off his shoulder, wrapping them around his throat, and squeezing, watching his eyes widen with panic, bulge as he lost his breath, as his lungs burned, as he realized he was dying.
It was a brutal fucking way to go.
A good two and a half to three minutes of consciousness, your lungs screaming, your head going fuzzy, panic flooding your entire body.
Then another minute of unconsciousness before you finally fucking died.
I must have been sitting there for longer, though, as I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“He’s dead, man,” Dav said, voice patient, understanding. He had his own demons. He knew what it was like when they took over.
I yanked the pants off of him as I moved to stand, realizing I was panting for breath, my heartbeat hammering with the adrenaline still flooding my system.