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“He never said anything about her being a Donatello. Fuck, man, do you really wanna do this?” I don’t hear the response. I’m assuming, since we’ve come to a stop and the doors have opened, they’ve decided they do in fact have a death wish.
“Out, now.”
I give Reilly’s hand what I hope is a reassuring squeeze. We’re greeted by The fucking Clover himself as we step out. I guess my day is looking up after all.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet ya. The legendary Mrs. Valentino. The siren who hooked Theo in just a few weeks.” His grimy fingers run down Reilly’s cheek.
“The woman who’s going to cut your bloody hand off if you touch me again,” she yells in his face.
The Clover slaps her. I thought that would have her crumbling, but no, she surprises me as she brings a knee straight up and connects it with his balls. I laugh as I watch the fucker bend over in pain.
“Feisty. I’m going to love fucking the fight out of you. But not here. Let’s go say hello to your husband. I want him to watch the show before I kill the little Italian fucker.”
Reilly’s face pales. That scares the shit out of her. As it should. I’m not about to let anything like that happen to her, though. I count the steps as we’re led into the building. Waiting. Because I know they’re leading us to T. And that’s exactly where I need to be. I can’t kill these mafia wannabes until I know where my brother is.
When we enter the room, I find not only T, but also Neo. Both tied to a fucking chair. Both looking like they’ve been hit by a freight train. And both clearly enraged. I don’t know if all that blood and bruising is from their own doing yesterday, or new and courtesy of these assholes.
At the sight of Neo bound to a fucking chair—for a second time since arriving in this city—my blood boils. The need to put a hole in someone’s head has never been so damn strong.
Chapter Nine
Angelica and the Holly lookalike walk into the room at gunpoint. My whole body ignites, ready to fight. Ready to end the fucking moron currently holding a gun to my angel’s head.
“Dov'è lei?” T asks his sister.Where is she?
Thank fuck Holly isn’t here. T would be a goddamn loose cannon right now if it were his wife standing there with a gun to her head.
“Sicura,” my angel responds before they can stop her.Safe.
I can’t take my eyes off Angelica. I have an overpowering urge to get her the fuck out of this room. To protect her at all costs. My fists clench, the rope around my wrists barely holding me down at this point. She smiles and sends me a wink. God, no, I don’t know what she’s planning to do. I know she’s no sitting duck. She is the furthest thing from a damsel in distress. But fuck, I don’t want her to do anything but stay fucking alive.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you all burn in Hell, you fucking Irish scum,” Angelica hisses.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” The Clover pushes her forward. “Before I have one of my men do it for you. Go sit over there and watch. It’ll be your turn soon enough.”
I grit my teeth. I’m going to enjoy ripping this asshole apart, limb by fucking limb.
T fires insults at the Irish son of a bitch and the fucker spits ‘em right back, but my focus is solely on Angelica. Trying to figure out just what she’s up to. I attempt to silently plead with her to not do whatever it is she thinks she’s going to do.
“Adesso,” T calls out as he drops the ropes from his wrists. And within seconds, he’s digging a blade into the neck of one of the goons. I’m momentarily distracted, watching his movements, when three gunshots ring out. And then silence fills the air. T tosses the knife to me and I cut my feet free.
Angelica is leaning casually against the wall, a gun hanging loosely in her hand before she drops the weapon to the floor. There are four bodies laid out in front of us: one still gurgling on the ground from where Theo put a blade through his neck, the other three with bullet holes through their heads.
“Fucking hell, Angelica, could have warned a guy you were a fucking assassin,” T hisses out, observing the carnage at his feet.
“I-It’s a necessity when you’re the daughter of Al Donatello.” She shrugs. She tries to come off unaffected, but I know she’s not.
Stepping over the mixture of blood and limbs, I reach Angelica and wrap my arms around her. She sinks into my embrace, pressing her face into my chest. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again, Angel.” I inhale, breathing in her vanilla scent.
“You think I purposely got myself into this mess?” she huffs out.
“No, but I don’t like seeing guns pointed at your head.” I hold her a little tighter. I have no idea where these fucking feelings are coming from. They’re so damn foreign, and I’m scared I don’t even know what to do with them.
“I didn’t exactly like seeing you tied to a chair either. It’s weird.”
“What is?” I ask.
“Well, usually, I don’t care. I’d put a bullet in anyone before risking myself. But when I saw you, all I wanted to do was save you. I didn’t care about myself. That’s never happened before.”
