AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The man who conspired with the man who is six feet under to kill my rightful father.
“What are you doing here, Shane?” I ask, keeping my face relaxed. I try and tug my arm from his grip, but he tightens it. My eyes scan the crowd again, not a single set of eyes on us, Dante still too far away.
Where the hell is Marco?
Where is Roddy?
I don’t even see my fiancé, not that I think he would be much help right now.
“A colleague passed. I’m here to pay my respects.”
“God, what would the press think of that? Wholesome, honorable Shane Turner considers himself colleagues with a mafia Don. Strange bedfellows,” I say with a sarcastic tone.
“What the fuck are you wearing, Delilah?” he repeats. “If someone gets a photo of you in that, it will be all over the headlines that my daughter wore red to a goddamn funeral. Fuck. Get in the car. We’re leaving.”
His fingers tug again, but I ignore the sharp pain, smiling with all the venom that’s been stewing under my skin for months.
Years, if I let myself be honest.
It’s so interesting how he worries about my image still.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Shane.”
“Stop this fuckin’ game, Delilah,” he says through gritted teeth, tugging again.
I’m sure I’ll have a bruise there tomorrow.
Is it fucked that I hope I do so the family has to retaliate against this piece of shit once and for all?
“Not a game. You are fucking dead to me, Shane. And if you make the decision to come back into the land of the living, I promise you, you will regret it.”
“Get in the fucking car.” His eyes are dark, angry, his jaw tight as he tries to argue with me while keeping his face press ready.
“Absolutely not. Now let go of me. You’re hurting me.”
“You leave a single mark on that woman, you’ll regret the day you were born,” a raspy older voice says from behind me. “You gotta lotta cazzos showing up here like this, putting your hands on her, even thinking you have any sway. You’re lucky you’re still fuckin’ breathing.”
Turner’s fingers loosen from my arm as he turns his head, staring at the man who spoke.
I actually smile when I see his face melt just a hair. When I see the panic and disbelief fill his eyes.
I don’t know which smile this is—it’s not the siren, planning his demise.
He’s not worth that.
Maybe instead, it’s the jilted princess, smiling as she watches her captor face her dragons.
Because standing there in all black is Alfredo Russo, my grandfather, his face a mask of fury.
He’s flanked by Marco, his dark glasses on despite the gloomy weather, and Jason, both men with firm jaws.
I smile at Shane, who drops his hand instantly. I move my arm, shaking it and swiping where his hand was, like he left a layer of dust I want off my skin.
“You okay, princess?” Marco asks.
“All good, big guy,” I say, and even with the glasses, I can see the eye roll. Jason’s lips twitch and I raise an eyebrow at him as if to say, Get used to it. You’re next. “Nice to see you, Jason. Didn’t expect you . . . on this side.” The words mean more than just this side of the graveyard.
“Talked to my old friend. Got some information. Made some decisions.” I smile for real now.
