Devil in a Suit - Nicole Fox Page 0,24

faded now, less gnarled than it once was. I trace it with my finger. It is a perpetual reminder to keep women at a distance, to never get too close.

Betrayal lurks, always, and even in the softest touch, the cold bite of greed is waiting.

Yet, somehow, I end up on the bed, on my back, hand stroking up and down my cock as I picture tearing a hole in those running leggings and fucking her raw, the fabric clinging to her body. But even after the release, I still want her.

There is no relief.

After working out, I get a call from Nario telling me that he has Santo ready for me.

I’m glad for the distraction. I know that sleep wasn’t going to come tonight anyway. It’s midnight by the time I go down to the garage, climb onto my blood-red Kawasaki sports bike, and head out into the clouded night. I don’t wear a helmet. I like the feel of the wind in my face as I tear through the city. Not smart, perhaps, but sometimes a man has to risk danger to taste freedom.

I enter the club by the back entrance and wait behind the screen door, looking into the basement. Santo is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, his narrow eyes closed to slits. He’s finding it hard to fidget with his hands behind his back, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. All around, the men watch, dozens of them. Maury is casually smoking a cigar. Durante is cracking his giant knuckles.

When Nario enters, phone in hand, I push open the screen door and stride into the basement. Immediately, the men fall silent. They must see the anger in my face.

I stop inches from Santo.

“Have you spoken to the Irish?” I ask.

His mouth falls open. “N-no,” he whispers.

“Recently, or ever?”

“No, boss.” He laughs anxiously. “I ain’t got nothing to say to them.”

“Did you bug Durante’s car? Did you bug Maury’s car?”

The Albino’s cigar twitches in the semidarkness when he hears this. His red eyes sear into Santo.

“N-no.” He’s shaking his head.

“So it would be impossible for me to produce an audio recording where you’re talking with an Irishman, Santo? Think carefully.”

The men are standing taller, some of their hands bunched into fists. I can feel the deep hate we all feel for rats and traitors.

“Trust breeds security,” I announce to the whole room, “which means everybody makes money and can care for their families. Once that is gone, we have nothing. I will always reward my men as they deserve. Work hard and you will be wealthy and comfortable. But, betray me …” I take out my pistol, gesturing at Nario, “and you will see for yourself just how far I will go to protect my Family.”

Nario plays the recording. Durante shakes his head, massive chest heaving. The Albino grinds his cigar into the concrete floor. I pace up and down as Santo admits to bugging the cars, laughing about it with the Irishman. Redheaded slut. The eek-eek of me screwing on the silencer is loud in the quiet room.

“Boss, wait—”

He slumps in the chair when my bullet takes him between the eyes.

Blood trickles.

I hand the gun to Durante, who immediately starts wiping off the prints.

“I liked him,” I say, turning a slow circle. “Remember that, men. I considered him my friend.”

They all nod fiercely.

“Now go,” I tell them. “Be with your families, if you have them. Find yourself a woman. It is not a night for solitude.”

I’m about to leave when I spot Nario gesturing at me with a subtle nod of the head. His eyes are oddly excited, which is a rare sight in a man like him. Curious, I follow him out the side door that leads even deeper into the basement, to the prison room. Nario types in the five-digit passcode. The heavy electronic door swings open with a beep.

And there, cuffed to a radiator in the otherwise bare stone cell, sits Benjamin Sweeney, prince of the Irish crime Mafia.

His mop of red hair is even redder from where it’s smeared with blood. He’s a thin man, all elbows and knees, looking like an overgrown teenager.

“Hello, Benjamin,” I greet.

He’s gagged, so he can’t speak, but there’s something crazy in his wide blue eyes. He glares like he’d like to kill me.

“We’ll be talking very soon,” I tell him. “But for now, make yourself comfortable.”

I give him a little bow and then back out of the room, waiting while Nario

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