Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Valentino was pissed—really pissed—at Stefano. It was there in his voice. In the set of his broad shoulders as he strode through the door in his immaculate suit. His features were hard, his dark eyes glinting with rage. This was the same bullshit Stefano had used on the plane when they headed to Vegas.
Don’t fuck things up with Emmanuelle by being overprotective, when it was clear, his woman was protected from everything by everyone. That just reinforced to Emme that she wasn’t worth as much to the family—not as a woman. As an assassin, she had value; as a woman, none at all. He’d like to kick the shit out of Stefano and his brothers, but mostly, he wanted to spend a few minutes with Eloisa. He’d make an exception on hurting a woman for her.
The men sitting in front of their now-black screens came to attention, backs straightening as they tried to appear important in the suddenly bright room. Their eyes were riveted on Valentino. He was an imposing figure, and he knew it. He looked the epitome of power and danger. He wore the mantle of a man who decided the fate of others with the snap of his fingers. These men, with their wealth and their buying and selling of human beings, used to getting whatever they wanted when they wanted it, stirred uncomfortably when his dark, merciless gaze touched them.
One decided to bluster, to demand he be released immediately. “This is preposterous. You have no idea who you are dealing with. I could crush you and everyone you care about …”
Val took his time pulling his gun from his immaculate suit. He lifted it and shot the billionaire between the eyes. Then shot him again twice through the heart before he could fall. He pushed the gun back into the harness and walked around the room slowly, flicking his cold, empty gaze over them, dismissing them, recognizing most of them. He wasn’t surprised at who was there.
Bernado Macaluso needed time to get into the phones of each of the men betting in Miceli’s underground world.
“Four minutes,” Ricco said.
“Tracing multiple accounts.” Bernado was calm.
Valentino was determined to drain as much money from these men as possible to use it for any victims they could recover now and in the future. He hadn’t discussed that aspect with Emmanuelle yet, but he would. They would find someone to put in charge of the best way to help the victims find safety in homes and counseling. That wasn’t Val’s forte. He dealt in blood and death.
“Is there something you want?” Senator Moralison asked. He sounded bored. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
Val flicked his gaze toward Dario and then raised his eyebrow at the senator. “Cutting out your tongue would be a start. Not hearing the sound of your voice.”
“Spare me your moral lecture, Saldi,” Moralison sneered. “That ten-thousand-dollar suit doesn’t cover up the Sicilian reeking underneath it.”
Dario caught the senator’s head in a firm grip and yanked it back, placing a knife to his throat. His eyes were flat and cold. There was no mercy in the dark depths. No feeling at all. He made the cut slowly, giving him a happy smile, letting the senator feel the very sharp blade as it penetrated the skin and went into the artery. Blood ran down his neck onto his white collared shirt. Dario stepped back, wiped his blade between the senator’s shoulder blades and then walked away.
“Need Douglas Patrick’s account encryption code. He’s the only one with any kind of decent security. I don’t have the time to break it,” Bernado said.
“Douglas.” Val stood in front of him. “Would you be so kind as to write down your encryption code immediately for your offshore accounts? If you don’t, Dario is standing directly behind you.”
Douglas Patrick, a young billionaire who had inherited his grandfather’s fortune from the diamond mines in South Africa, quickly wrote down what Val required and handed it to him. He shrugged. As far as he was concerned, there was far more money where that came from.
“Got it,” Bernado said. “I’m out. We’re done here.”
Val went to the door and pulled his gun. He shot Douglas Patrick first. He had a folder on the man four inches thick, and everything in it was depraved. They killed everyone in the room. Val walked out with Dario while his men set up explosives to take down the building and burn it to the ground.
Marge’s beloved strip joint was next on the list. There were several smaller businesses like this restaurant that had secrets, and big money exchanged hands, but Valentino was interested in stamping out the human trafficking pipeline in his territory. The more he had investigated, the more he realized how widespread it was. It wasn’t just a few women or teenage girls: Miceli had an entire business built on young children. Boys fighting to the death in rings. Teens being auctioned off, both boys and girls. Little girls and boys being auctioned off. This was far bigger than what Valentino had ever expected when he’d first begun.