AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I can't speak. His mouth against my bare skin sends shocks through my system. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I struggle to string together coherent thought.
Next, it's my bra. His hands slide up my sides slowly, deliberately. The lace is cold against the heat of my skin but warms up instantly under Coda's touch. He effortlessly hooks it behind me, his lips ghosting over the column of my neck before finally landing on the side of my mouth.
A gasp leaves my lips at his simple yet sensual act, but words remain elusive.
He doesn't seem to mind.
My dress follows last, slipping easily over my head and settling over my body with a soft rustle. With a final swipe of his rough thumb against the hollow of my throat, he pulls me up against him, holding me.
After a moment that's not nearly long enough, he sighs, leading me out of the room.
"Did you drive yourself, cara?" he asks once we're on the elevator.
"No."
He nods.
We cross the lobby hand in hand, stepping out into the cool night air. He hails a cab for us—or rather for me. I can tell by his expression that he isn't leaving anytime soon. He confirms this when he leans in close, his lips against the shell of my ear.
"Soon, cara."
With that promise hanging in the air between us, he taps the side of the cab, sending me off into the night with his taste on my lips and his number in my phone. Alone, yet not quite the same woman who walked into the ballroom hours ago.
As the hotel fades behind me, I realize he's given me more than just his number and his taste. He's given me a craving for the forbidden…sparking a flame I didn't even know could burn.
Chapter Three
Coda
The warehouse is so fucking cold I see my breath fogging the air as I stand over my target. The acrid scent of fear mingles with the metallic tang of blood, creating a perfume that's become all too familiar to me.
Emilio Esposito is bound and gagged at my feet, his eyes wild with the kind of terror that says he knows exactly what's coming.
He should. He knows precisely what he did to land here.
I study him, but I feel no pity or hesitation. No. I'm looking for the right spot.
"Please." His muffled pleas slip from behind the duct tape covering his mouth, but mercy isn't a currency I trade in.
"Shut the fuck up," Domani Brambilla says from beside me. He's had enough of the stronzo's begging. "If you wanted to live, you never should have put your wife in the hospital."
My fingers tighten around the grip of my gun at the reminder of Emilio's crimes. Some sins are unforgivable. Hurting a woman is one of them. But even so, I don't want Esposito to suffer. I learned long ago that there's no art in cruelty when the final payment is death. Torturing a man on his way out of the world teaches no lesson. It simply rests on your conscience.
His death is simply payment for his crime and a message for those who'd follow in his footsteps: break Rafe's rules and pay with your life. With this rule, there is no mercy, and there are no second chances. Everyone knows it. Esposito decided to try his luck anyway. He hurt his wife. Now, he dies.
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse, a single resounding crack that silences his pleas forever. His body slumps to the side. The finality in his wide-open eyes is something I've seen more times than I care to count.
It's done. Efficient. Cold. Precise. Just another ghost to haunt the periphery of my conscience, should I ever let it.
I won't.
It's his wife's face that'll haunt my mind.
"He didn't deserve her," Domani says, staring down at him.
He's right. He didn't.
"She'll cry for him anyway."
