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“Cornucopia, huh? Are you giving thanks for having me?”
I giggle.
“I think we had each other.”
“That we did, little one. Sleep in my arms. I’m not ready to let you go.”
“The only place I’ll go will be beside you.”
When I lift my head again, we both know that was a metaphor. We’re where we both belong. Heaven help the world if anyone disagrees. I’ll burn it all down around them.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Gabriele
Sinead shocked the shit out of me when she rolled me over. The moment she did, I knew what she was going to do. I just didn’t expect it. I let her restrain me because I was curious. She was right. I could have gotten free if I wanted. It would have involved me destroying the headboard, but it wouldn’t have taken my full strength, even though the furniture is sturdy and solid wood.
I didn’t mind being restrained as much as I thought I would. When someone’s strung me up with my hands over my head in the past, it wasn’t for such pleasurable pursuits as having sex with my girlfriend. It was so someone could torture me. It’s happened more than once, and none of those times bring pleasant memories.
But Sinead. Having her cuff me and being at her mercy was hot. Watching her stroke me and rub her clit against me made me stiff as iron within seconds. I agree with everything she said, and she was right. Her tone was so emphatic while pragmatic. Who knew that would be one of the greatest turn-ons I’ve ever experienced? I didn’t feel weak or vulnerable. Just the opposite. The way she looked at me— like she wanted to devour me — fuck me into next week —keep me until her last breath. I couldn’t get enough.
So, I was happy to stay right where I was. But I also laid in wait. The moment she released me, I seized control back. I knew she’d like that as much as we both enjoyed having her dominate me, albeit temporarily. It might happen again before I die, but it won’t happen often. We indulged each other, and it gave us both what we needed.
I know I’ve been in lust with her since the beginning. I think falling in love with her was easy. We’re past that now, though. I feel like she knows me better than anyone. Even better than Carmine. She gets me in a way he never could through no fault of his own. It’s just different. I’m certain Carmine feels that way about Serafina. I didn’t plan to tell her I want her to move in already.
I’ve thought about it, but it just sorta came out. I don’t regret it at all. I’m glad I said it. I hate where she lives for one thing. But I hate the idea of either of us going home at night and not being together. When we go home, I want it to be to the same place. I’d even move into hers if it was really important to her.
I’d like to spend the morning daydreaming about this, but I can’t. I’m at the garage again. We pulled in a low level Polish mobster because we caught him cheating at an underground card game last week. It was before Cohenour flipped out, changed his plea, then died the same day. We pushed the guy to get more information about how his bosses were involved with Cohenour. Now we’re going to get that info and make sure no one knows he squealed. I pick up a set of pliers before approaching him.
“We didn’t beat the shit out of you for cheating because you were going to spy for us. Now you’re holding out. Maybe pulling out some teeth will give you more room to loosen your tongue. Speak.”
I step in front of him and snap them open and closed four times. The last time, I jerk them forward, and he tries to get away. The problem is, he’s strung up like a side of beef. We have hooks in the garage door chains that allow us to dangle people when the doors open and close. They must feel like their arms are about to be ripped off through their skin. No one can hear them scream over the sound of the metal doors. And even if someone could, the people in the neighborhood know which side their bread is buttered on. It’s an oldCosa Nostraone. People stay quiet, and those same people stay alive.
“Jacek is pissed and won’t leave Bartlomiej alone about that fucker Cohenour saying two of us were discussing the shit you did.”
“Allegedly did.”
I correct him because I’m pretty certain he knows who really did it.
“He wants Bartlomiej to get rid of anyone who could implicate them because Cohenour lied. The re—”
I raise the pliers to his face, knowing what he was about to say. I swear like a fucking sailor, but there are certain words I don’t tolerate.
“The asshole was probably getting paid to say it was us, anyway.”
Now there’s two things to weed through.
“Get rid of anyone who could implicate them. Does that mean Ms. O’Malley?”
He won’t look at me, so I answer for him.
“Your silence tells me that’s a yes. Was the car bomb for both of us?”
I snap the pliers around his nipple and twist. I watch as the skin breaks, but I ignore his howls. I stop before I cause so much pain he can’t concentrate on his story.
“Yes. They didn’t want Ms. O’Malley to push for the police to investigate Cohenour’s claims. That’s why they showed up in court. Not only to intimidate Cohenour but to scare Ms. O’Malley, too. When she didn’t flinch, they got pissed. They flat out don’t like you. Since it was obvious you’d meet after court let out since Cohenour’s plea affects your case, they figured they needed to move fast.”
“Did they make one of our cars break down?”
