Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
He had it coming. Those corpses deserve to be corpses. But it’s still a shock, seeing the man I’m married to stab someone to death and blow the brains out of three more. I want to say it revolted me, and in some ways it did. The dead bodies were terrifying. But not Simon.
The way he moved. The way he protected me and didn’t hesitate. He was competent, in control, doing what had to be done, and I wanted to press my mouth to his and let him do unspeakable things to my body. I still very much want that. This thing growing between us, or this thing that’s already fully formed and starting to mature, it’s not what I pictured when I took him up on this deal. I figured I could gut it out, have a baby, get paid, move on.
Now I’m so deep into him that I know there’s nothing else for me.
It’s ride or die now.
Lunch breaks up. I spend time alone with Simon and have to resist the urge to fuck him right there in the living room. It’s not easy. He smells good fresh from a shower with clean clothes on. I kiss his chin and have to pretend like my nipples aren’t stiff as his fingers brush down my thigh. It’s starting to get late and the sun’s dipping down in the sky, and I can tell his anxiety is building. I wish I could drag him to the bedroom and help him calm down again.
His phone rings while Tanya’s starting on dinner in the kitchen. Lucia’s out at the movies with friends, and Vito’s making his rounds to the various businesses he runs. Simon takes the call on the couch, face pinching into a tight frown. “Davide?” he says then sits up straight. “What the fuck is going on?”
I can hear it through the phone. Sharp cracks, loud as hell. Before last night I might not have recognized them, but now they’re obvious.
Gunfire. Lots and lots of gunfire.
Davide’s shouting over the noise and I lean in close to hear him. Simon’s too distracted to pull away.
“They’re fucking here,” Davide yells as more booms sound. “They’re here, Simon, and you gotta come. Bring fucking everyone.” More gunfire and the line goes dead.
Simon gets to his feet. He should be freaking out. My heart’s racing into my throat and I’m so scared I could cry, but he only pulls me up, hugs me tight, kisses me hard, and makes me swear I won’t do something stupid. “Help Tanya in the kitchen,” he says.
“Come back.” I grab his shirt and hold it tight, burying his mouth with mine, tasting his sweetness and feeling my whole body dizzy with him. “Please, come back to me.”
“I love you.” He tears himself away, the phone to his ear, and runs out the door. I watch it slam shut behind him as I collapse onto the couch, crying so hard I feel like my stomach muscles might split wide open.
Chapter 46
Simon
It’s half an hour past sunset as I speed to the oasis. I make a few calls on the way, driving like an absolute maniac, first to Vito then to a few more Capos I can trust. The word spreads, and soon the full weight of the Bianco Famiglia will descend onto my home.
I don’t know what’s happening over there.
It could be Dad trying to end the stalemate, or it could be Santoro making his move. Either one is terrible, and I don’t know how this is going to go if there are Bianco guys at the other end of my gun barrel.
I’m fucking terrified. I want to pretend like I feel absolutely nothing, like I’m some broken, fucked-up psychopath killer, but I’m goddamn terrified that this is going to be the end of my family. If it’s my brother killing my father’s soldiers then there’s no way we’ll ever recover from an internal fight like that, at least not the same as we were before. And if it’s Santoro—
I don’t even want to imagine what might happen if Santoro takes control of the oasis.
My sisters are both there. My mother, my injured father, my brother, his wife, and all the guards I grew up with, my people are all in that little slice of heaven we carved out of the heart of the city.
I don’t know if they’re alive or dead.
I hear the crack of gunfire as I get closer. It’s a constant, staccato sound, almost like fireworks. Hell, half the people I pass act like nothing’s going down, like this is just some early evening celebration and everyone should go about their business.
But it’s what I don’t hear that really bothers me.
There’s a lot of shooting, which means there’s a lot of fighting—but there aren’t any fucking sirens.