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I grimace. “Who the hell would want to fuck that bastard?”
“The same bitch who wanted to kill him,” my uncle deduces.
“That could have been anyone. The asshole wasn’t exactly likable. He had many enemies.”
“It was the same person,” Uncle Ray insists.
“How? His neck was broken, not sliced. And it would have been hard to place pennies over the eyes of someone floating in—”
“They were duct-taped to his eyes,” he cuts in. “It was the same bitch, Luca.”
“Shit.” To go to the trouble of taping coins… “That’s fucking brutal.”
Through the phone, I hear him suck on the cigar he has perpetually stuck in his mouth, then he blows out the smoke. “Piece of shit or not, he was killed by the same woman who got Tony and the others.”
I roll my hand into a fist and pound the desk. “Fuck!”
“What do you want me to do?”
It takes me a while to answer him, because the feeling of helplessness, of walking around blind, with no idea where the threat is yet knowing it’s there and it’s imminent, is hard to shake off. This is what Tony was dealing with. Only, he didn’t imagine the scope. Or did he?
Yes, he must have. That’s why he was so willing to put aside pride and ask for a truce. He recognized all the families have a common enemy, and they would have to work together to flush him or her out.
“Tony wanted a meeting,” I finally say. “Call for one with me.”
“They laughed at him, Luca. They snickered, and he was the fucking boss. We’re barely being held together with no one taking the official position as head of ourfamiglia. We’re not the Sinacores. We’re nothing. They will do the same to us.”
“They won’t. Not with five dead kings. You don’t laugh at that shit.”
He goes silent. The only sound I hear is him puffing the smoke through his lips. Then he clears his throat in that manner that smokers often do. “Fine. I’ll do what you say. But you have to find that bitch, Luca.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll find her. Then I’ll string her up and flay her the way she did Tony.”
12
LUCA
Ispend all day locked up in the study, going over every last detail of the murders, searching the internet for clues or information we may have missed. Or I try to, at least.
Thoughts of Carina continuously invade my mind, making it nearly impossible to concentrate.
In my failed attempt to marry a docile woman who would not interfere, I ended up with one who doesn’t even have to be present to meddle.
“Fuck!” I slam my laptop shut.
If my uncle had any idea, he’d probably kill her. Hell, if I can’t get her out of my damned head, I might have to do it myself.
You couldn’t fuck her, then. But you can now. You can go upstairs and scratch that itch. Fuck her until you can’t see straight. Until you fill her up with every ounce of your cum and…
That last thought gives me pause. She was a virgin, and I came in her. Alma and I discussed birth control, but what are the chances that Carina is on it? Why would she be if she wasn’t sexually active?
“Shit.”
In a hurry to put that new concern to rest, I storm up the stairs to the room I’ve avoided, aware that the moment I see her, I’ll want her.
I throw the door open and immediately spot her as she practically falls out of the closet. A box comes crashing down with her, its contents spilling all over the floor.
Instinctively, I rush to lift her, but she slaps my hands away as if I caused her accident.
