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I ignore them. “I’ll put a bullet in your head to match his, you son of a bitch.”
“I look forward to you trying, Killian.”
My hand tightens around my gun, itching to pull it out to do exactly as I promised.
I need to go, get out of here and compose myself before I actually do something stupid. By letting Marco get into my head, it’s only going to force my hand. Rather than letting that happen, sabotaging my plans before they even have a chance to get off the ground, I need to walk away before Ireallydo give in to my desires.
I let my hand drop from my holster and straighten out my jacket. I breathe slowly through my nose and try to calm myself as much as I can at this point.
“I’ll be seeing you around.”
Marco regards me with a dismissive expression. “Keep my daughter. I don’t want her back even if she begs for it. You deserve the bitch—and she deserves you.”
CHAPTERTEN
Islam my fists against the wheel of my car and pull out onto the main road leading back into the city.
I want to tear that man to shreds. I want to blow holes through him until he is nothing more than Swiss cheese on my floor. I grind my teeth together, feeling my fury burn brighter the closer I get to home.
The closer I get to Nella waiting for me somewhere inside.
I fuckinghateMarco Ambrosino.
His family is diseased swine that deserves to be culled.
My phone rings and I fist my hand around the steering wheel and tap the other against the screen on my dashboard to answer it.
“What?”
I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.
There is some scuffling on the other end, like someone is fumbling with their phone and trying to remain as discreet as possible.
A familiar voice speaks finally, “Killian.”
I flex my hands around my steering wheel. My informant.
“What do you want?”
“You shouldn’t have threatened him like that. He’s pissed.”
I roll my eyes. “Who fucking cares?”
There is a sigh on the other end, as if my informant were somehow disappointed in my actions. It pisses me off.
“He may be old,” my informant says, “but he’s still unmatched when it comes to twisting and sabotaging plans. He’s been Don Ambrosino for this long because of that.”
“What is this, a history lesson?”
“Killian, are you even listening to me?”
“I’m listening. I just don’t care what you have to say right now.”
“Look…” my informant sighs again. “I know you’re pissed but—”
I slam my fist on my steering wheel. Saying such heinous things about his own daughter is enough to warrant some kind of action. The clear disrespect he has for her is enough to kill him over, in my books.
How could a father hate his own flesh and blood so much so that he is willing to give her up to a rumored psychopath? None of it adds up. Even if I were to believe that, from his side, she seemed like a traitor.
