Shit!
To Col’s right is the man FBI believes to be his top henchman. He has been with Col for longer than I’ve been born, yet he still remains nameless. The FBI simply calls him Col’s right-hand man. To Col’s left is his youngest son, Dimitri. He does not yet have an FBI file, but they believe he is being groomed by Col to take over thefamilybusiness.
Isaac glares at Col furiously, the twitching of his jaw so profound I can almost hear it ticking.
“What has it been. . .six years? And I don’t even get a greeting from you,” Col asks, his words dripping with sarcasm.
Isaac remains quiet with his fists clenched. The veins in his neck are protruding so far, they look like they're about to burst. When Col’s depraved gaze assesses my body, my skin crawls.
Noticing the direction of Col’s gaze, Isaac pulls me in close to his side. When Col sees Isaac’s protecting gesture, he inhales a large, undignified whiff through his nostrils, mocking Isaac, pretending he can smell his fear.
Isaac's angry eyes glare at Dimitri. When Dimitri's gaze drops to his polished black shoes, Isaac sniffs back. Col follows Isaac's gaze to Dimitri, his jaw ticking and nostrils flaring when he notices Dimitri's passive stance.
“Go!” Col commands, his loud voice rumbling through the bustling side street.
Dimitri’s eyes lift from the ground and shoot to his father. He appears to be considering a response. I wait with bated breath. From what I’ve read in Col’s file, if Dimitri denies his father’s command, his punishment will be severe, favorite son or not. I expel the breath caught in my throat when Dimitri does as commanded and walks away from our group.
The sting of Isaac’s fingers on my hip firms when Col steps toward us, stopping in front of me. His eyes scan my flustered, post-orgasmic face.
“You’re exquisite.” Col’s evil eyes stare into mine. “You have the face of an angel,” he whispers. “E voi diventerete uno.”
When Col raises his hand to my face, Isaac snatches his wrist. His grip is so firm, even the massive set of wrinkles in Col's face can't hide his grimace.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Isaac snarls, his tone clipped and unnerving.
My breath snags in my throat, my heart skipping a beat when Col’s right-hand man moves closer to our gathering. He adjusts his suit jacket to expose he is carrying two semi-automatic Glocks on his waist.
“Isaac, let’s go.”
I scramble backward, pulling Isaac with me, but his stance is so strong, he doesn’t budge an inch. His infuriated gaze remains focused on Col. His jaw is ticking so furiously his back molars grind together.
“Please, Isaac, he has a gun,” I beg, motioning my head to Col’s henchman.
If Isaac doesn't agree to come with me, I'll blow my cover and announce I'm an FBI agent. Col Petretti has always been paranoid about being under surveillance or infiltrated by an undercover agent, so my confession may be enough to force him to leave our group immediately.
Isaac’s eyes flick to Col’s henchman. He sniffs, goading him. “A real man doesn’t need a gun. His body is his weapon.”
“It’ll be in your best interest to remember that,” he threatens before he relinquishes his grip on Col’s wrist.
I sigh when Isaac grasps my wrist and spins on his heels, not once glancing back on Col or his henchman left standing on the sidewalk.
23
Isabelle
“Get out.”
I shake my head and re-latch my seatbelt Isaac just unlatched.
“For once, do as you're told and get out,” he screams, making me jump in fright.
Gritting my teeth, I shake my head once more. “No.”
Isaac growls. This time, it isn’t a sexy-as-sin growl. It’s a growl that shows his unrelenting anger.
He throws open the driver's side door so hard I'm surprised he didn’t break the hinges. He stomps toward the passenger side door and pulls it open so violently, I have no chance of holding it closed.
Leaning in, he unclasps my seatbelt and lifts me out of the car. His angry strides don’t stop until he dumps me onto a wicker chair on the front veranda of Cormack’s mansion.
