Sweet Collateral Read Online L.P. Lovell

Categories Genre: Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance, Tear Jerker Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
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They glance at each other again, and then one of them walks over to the car. “They say that you can make a shot from over a mile away,” the remaining guard says to me.

I smirk. “They do?”

“That true?”

“Sure. Why not?” I shrug, and he frowns.

His friend comes back and hands me a cheap plastic burner phone. “Thank you.”

I can feel their eyes on me as I walk back down the length of the barn. I find Bella exactly where I left her. I turn on the phone and put my number in it. “Here.” I hand it to her. “My phone number is on that phone. You call me. Anytime. I will pick up. You need me, and I will come back to Mexico for you.”

She frowns. “Why?”

“Because if our roles were reversed, and you had been rescued first, I think you’d do the same for me.”

“Thank you.” She hugs me once more and then slips back inside the barn, clutching the phone as though it’s her most precious possession.

I’ve done all I can here. I trust Rafe to look after these girls, as well as any more he might find. It’s time to rip the scab off. I need to find my sister and go back to New York.

The plane rockets down the runway and I watch Rafael’s compound disappear beneath us. He authorized the use of one of his planes, but yet again, he didn’t come and say goodbye. Twice I’ve left Mexico with a broken heart and a cold shoulder from him. The tragedy of it all is what hurts the most. The knowledge that I will never have that all-encompassing sense of belonging with anyone else. That we are destined to love each other and miss each other forever. The pain will ebb away, but the scar will always remain. Rafael is the wound I will never quite recover from.

The plane lands with a bump, and I jolt awake, gripping the armrests hard enough that my nails ache. Una is up and out of her seat before the plane has even stopped moving. She’s eager to see Dante. I know she is. She’s been away from him for over a week. A week in Mexico, and yet it felt like months. With a heavy heart, I stand up, and when the plane stops, we descend the steps onto the runway.

I expect one of Nero’s men to be waiting for us, but instead, Nero himself leans against the hood of a black Range Rover.

“Morte.”

My sister smiles, and when she reaches him, he picks her up around the waist, pulling her to him. Their kiss is so intense that I have to look away. A pang of jealousy tears through me, a simple longing for that soul-deep connection that they have. I miss it already.

I quietly get into the passenger seat of the car and stare out of the window as Tommy loads the bags. Una and Nero get in the back, talking in hushed voices between them. I tune them out, focusing on the New York skyline that sits on the horizon. The concrete jungle seems too clean, too shiny and organized. I crave the chaos that is Juarez, and I never thought I would say that after being imprisoned there for years.

“You okay, Anna?” I turn at the sound of Tommy’s lilting Irish twang.

“I’m fine.”

His brows pinch together, and he swipes a hand through his red hair before nodding and starting the car. We leave the airport and drive straight into the heavy city traffic. Car horns blare and the subtle scent of garbage filters through the air vents. People walk down the sidewalk in their pristine business suits, all in a hurry with somewhere to urgent be. I feel like I’m standing still, and the entire world is just continuing to spin around me because I don’t know what to do now. Beneath the sharp ache of loss is an undeniable panic that this is it. Alexandru is dead. Dominges is dead. The girls were saved. I could keep going, find more girls, kill more bad men, but Rafe was right. When does it stop? How far will I descend into the darkness before there’s no coming back for me?

The simple fact is that I’m looking for purpose because without him, I have none. Without the cartel, I feel lost. I need to change that, but I can’t do it here. New York will never be my home.

As soon as we get back to the penthouse, I go to my room and unpack my bag before re-packing it with clean clothes. I’m just about to take a shower when my phone rings. I scramble to answer it in case it’s Bella. But it’s Lucas’ name that pops up on the screen.

“Lucas,” I answer, and I can hear the sadness in my own voice.



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