Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
But for some reason, it makes her stop screaming.
She stands there against her bed with a backpack over her shoulders. She’s in tight jeans and a tank top and my eyes roam down her like a wolf as she stares at me, taking these slow, deep breaths, in through her mouth and out through her nose.
The girl’s pretty. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I’ve seen attractive women before, fucked plenty of them, used more than my fair share like bedwarmers over the years, but Kacia strikes me as something different.
She’s got that thick, dark, wavy Greek hair and these striking bright green eyes. Her face is delicate, with full lips and white teeth peeking out from behind them and a little gap between the front two. She’s small, but her low-cut top shows off more than enough skin to make my mouth water, and her tight jeans don’t leave much to the imagination.
I grip my gun tighter, staring at her, hand trembling.
Nobody told me she was this fucking beautiful in person.
I’ve seen grainy surveillance pictures, but they didn’t do her justice.
“Who are you?” she asks and that accent throws me again.
She’s American. Not Greek. American.
“My name’s Luca Valverde,” I say and step forward. “You know who I am?”
She nods slowly, staring at me with those pretty, hard eyes. Fierce and angry. She should be trembling with terror right now, but she keeps breathing, in and out. Keeping herself calm.
I’ll admit, I’m impressed.
“You’re the son.”
“That’s right. The prodigal son.”
“Are you here to kill me? Are you going to finish what your father started when he blew my family to pieces?”
“That’s right.” I step forward. She still doesn’t move. In the hallway, I hear voices. Fio and Tony, arguing about something. There’s no more gunfire, which means the compound must be under our control already. “It will be quick. I’m not a monster.”
Which is a lie.
She nods and closes her eyes. “I wanted to go for a run barefoot in the sand. That’s all I wanted before this.”
I pause, finger on the trigger.
All I have to do is pull and everything I’ve always wanted will be mine.
Heir to the Famiglia. Underboss to my father. Power, money, opportunity.
It’s so easy, too. Pull, bang, dead. I’ve done it a dozen times without thinking and now it’s like I can’t make my hand obey my head.
“What do you mean, one last run?” I ask her.
She smiles ruefully. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me what you mean.”
“I’ve been stuck in this house for three months. I told Perico I wanted to go for a run down on the beach, but he said it was safer inside.”
“He should’ve let you go.”
“He meant well.”
“The Butcher of Rhodes meant well. That’s a first.”
She frowns slightly and looks past me at the corpse in the hall. “Butcher of Rhodes? Perico was just the head of my father’s household.”
“And an extremely famous killer. You really don’t know? It doesn’t matter.”
She bites her lower lip and my gun dips. Only slightly, but it dips, no longer aiming at her face.
Kill the girl. End it now. Do it, pull the fucking trigger, make it fast.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispers.
“You don’t speak Greek, do you?”
She looks confused. “What does that matter? You’re here to kill me, so kill me.”
Fio and Tony’s voices, louder now. They paused nearby and are discussing the Butcher in not-too-kind terms outside of the door. I move closer to the girl, making her look at me, making her meet my gaze. I stare back and my hands are shaking, and I don’t know why I haven’t pulled the trigger yet. We’ve come all this way and she’s in my sights, and so much depends on me murdering this girl, this beautiful girl.
She’s nothing. She’s the daughter of my enemy. She’s a strange girl living in a strange place, and I should end her misery now. Everything’s been taken—her family, her world—and the crime lords will never let her live now that they’ve turned their backs on the Florakis. If I don’t do it now, someone else will do it soon. I’m not doing her any favors by holding back.
This isn’t mercy. It’s insanity.
And yet there’s something about her. The way she’s looking at me. The way she’s breathing. She wanted one last run on the fucking sand, and she sounds like any other American girl I’ve ever met.
And she’s so fucking beautiful.
“Answer the question. How’s your Greek?”
“My Greek is awful, okay? I’ve lived in California since I was like ten. Do you speak Italian?”
“Fuck,” I say softly, and that only confuses her because it confuses me too, but I don’t have time to worry. “Yeah, I speak it, but I sound awful when I do.”
Fio and Tony burst into the room. “Oh, shit, there she is,” Fio says, laughing. He’s got his helmet off and so does Tony. I told the fuckers to keep their faces covered. I turn and glare.