AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The bodies of my men litter the ground outside the large steel warehouse, bullet casings glittering in the morning sunshine around them. Marco lies in a pool of blood inside, his throat cut from ear to ear, while Lorenzo’s moans of agony come from the next room where the doctor works to sew up the deep gash in his gut and reset his dislocated shoulder. The stubborn bastard refuses drugs, but there will be no avoiding knocking his ass out to remove the bullet in his chest that blessedly missedhis heart.
“What the fuck happened, Boian?” I circle Marco’s body, my hands fisted at my sides, my blood pumping the acidic need for retribution throughmy veins.
“All I could get from Lorenzo before the doc got here was that they were ambushed,” he answers, his own wrath barely contained under hisstoicism.
“I can fucking see that! But how? We have measures in place for such an event. We should have seen this shit from a mile away.” I kick the chair Vasile was tied to across the room, the loud clatter of metal against concrete echoing off the steel walls.
“We did. Lorenzo sounded the alarm, and I was immediately notified, but the guy had a fucking army on us within seconds. None of it makes sense, Emil. We had him. He was stripped and searched. He had no way to communicate, and we killed everyone at the house. So, who the fuck sent the calvary?” Tension and rage electrify the air around us as we ponder where we went wrong. We underestimated the bastard, that’s for sure. Stefan Vasile has more loyal followers than I thought,orthe men that attacked us are hired mercenaries. My bet is on the latter.
“We had to have missed something.”
“Orsomeone,” Boian utters more to himself. The sound of gravel under tires signals that our clean-up crew has arrived, and the curses tell me they’re justas pissed.
Letting them work, I enter the room where the doctor has administered the anesthesia and is scrubbing in for surgery. “Will he make it?” I inquire stoically. Now is not the time to be emotional. My men need to see me in control.
“He’s strong, and Boian was able to stop much of the bleeding, so I’m optimistic.” Without another word, I leave the sterile room, letting the doctor work.
“I just checked on Camil. Besides her giving Dom a headache, everything is quiet,” Boian reports from behind me, and a wave of relief helps settle some of my rage.
“Good. We don’t know how much thiscazzoknows. Keep her under lock and key no matter how much sheprotests.”
“Already done.” We both head out of the warehouse. “Do you think Greta is up to going over anything she may have learned while staying with Vasile?”
Jerking the door open, I speak to Boian over the roof of the Rover. “She’s strong and just as determined to catch the fucker. She’ll be ready.” I plop down into the leather seat, Boianfollowing.
“And what about you?” he asks.
I turn a questioning look to my second. “Whatabout me?”
He tilts his neck side to side, the slight popping of nitrogen released between bones louder in the car’s interior. “There are things that might have happened between them, Emil. She was told he was herhusband––”
“Finish that sentence, and I’ll cut out your fucking tongue,” I seethe, hands fisted, heart punching a hole throughmy chest.
He points a finger at me. “That right there. That’s what I mean,mio amico. Will you be able to keep your shit together if the worst comes out? Will you be able to forgive her?”
“I only blame her for running, not for Vasile’s manipulations,” I return. Yes, it would gut me if she and Vasile have been intimate, but I won’t blame her. She was taken, drugged, and gaslighted to think everything she knew was a figment of her imagination. But something tells me thatmia perlawouldn’t just give herself to Vasile on his words alone, and seeing the fight she put up against him the day we rescued her only strengthens that belief. “Greta wouldn’t give herself to him so easily, but if she did, I wouldn’t blame her, so there’s nothing toforgive.”
I feel Boian’s violet gaze burning into my profile. Turning my eyes to him, I smirk at the dumbfounded look on his face. “What? Is it so unbelievable that I can show mercy?”
“Yes,” he answers too quickly, then peels out of the parking lot.
18
Greta
The azure waves turn a deep gray, matching the dark overcast sky … and my mood. I hate the rain. The least it could do is storm. Lightning, thunder, and whipping winds are thrilling and electrifying. But bleak and dreary rain is dull and depressing.
“Greta, would you like something to eat now that you’re awake?” Alto asks from the doorway of my room.
I turn from the large picture window and smile at the older man. “Not now, but thank you.”
He nods. “SignoreCalvano and Boian have sent word that they’re on their way back and would like to speak to you.”
With a heavy sigh, I nod. “I can imagine. Let’s go to the library. I don’t wish to have this conversation here.”
Without another word, Alto turns, and I follow. We reach the tall double doors, and he ushers me inside. The smell of spine glue, old text, and wood polish are better than any high-priced meditation guru. Instantly, my muscles relax, and my head doesn’t seemso foggy.
Alto sits in one of the overstuffed chairs while I take the time to observe the different titles along the shelves. Classics in English and Italian sit atop the polished wood, their spines perfectly aligned. My fingers flutter lovingly over each one, tingling to take one out and get lost in its depths.
