The Holy Trinity Series - M.E. Clayton Page 0,17

put the mallet down and examined ice pick. “That’ll come later,” I predicted because it always did. I looked at Ciro. “No screaming?”

He shook his head. “Nah, not this time. I got a bitch of a headache what with Frankie coming back.” And here I thought I was the only one on pins and needles. “She’s waited six years to cuss us out. I can’t imagine it’ll be pretty.”

I didn’t want to talk about Frankie just yet. It was the whole reason I crashed Ciro’s party for two. I wanted to get my mind off the unknown. I jerked my chin towards Richard Miller. “What are you going to do first?”

Ciro turned to face Richard, and we stood side by side studying the piece of shit, who was still pleading for his life behind the handkerchief. Ciro cocked his head and those amber eyes of his, the ones that have haunted me for six years because they were the same ones that decorated Frankie’s face, narrowed a bit. “Well, since I’m not trying to get information out of him and I’m crunched for time because of Frankie, I’m thinking I might just start at the top and work my way down.”

“Eyes first?”

Ciro looked over at me. “You think?” Again, this was all for show. Ciro didn’t need me to tell him the quickest and most efficient way to kill someone. Ciro was the professional torturer here, not me. I was just helping him mentally torture Robert Miller.

I shrugged a shoulder. “If you’re pressed for time, blinding him will heighten his fear as he won’t be able to see what’s coming next.”

“Too true,” he commented as if he was in deep thought.

I made a show of glancing at my watch. “You have good two hours before you have to shower and change,” I told him.

“Just me?” Ciro knew there was a reason I crashed his party, and he knew the reason was Frankie. He also knew I needed to work out my anxiousness before meeting up with her.

“Okay. Us,” I clarified.

Ciro dropped on his haunches, so he was face-to-face with Robert Miller. “Look at you, being all special,” he taunted. “You got me and The Holy Ghost, bud. And that doesn’t happen often.”

Robert Miller’s eyes were the size of saucers. He started thrashing about again, but he had to know it was futile at this point. No one ever escaped Ciro Mancini. Besides, we’ve already mentioned Frankie’s name and the fact that she was back. That, alone, signed his death warrant. We’d never talk so freely about our family business if there was any chance this guy would live to tell about it.

Ciro reached behind him and I slapped the ice pick in his hand. “So, I’m going to start by blinding you as Ghost so helpfully suggested, and I’m going to work my way down.” Robert Miller’s screams turned to pathetic whimpers. He knew he was fucked. “However, it’s all going to end in a magnificent show of me pulling your dick out, skinning it back and pouring salt all over it, before chopping it up into little pieces.” Robert started screaming again. “Since we’re here because of your dick, it only seems appropriate that it gets to star in the grand finale.”

“Have you ever skinned a dick before?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Nah,” Ciro replied. “But how hard can it be?” He didn’t give me time to answer before the ice pick was already logged into Robert Miller’s right eye. His screams of pain were loud as fuck even though he was muzzled but, blessedly, they were loud enough to put thoughts of Frankie on hold.

We had two hours with Robert Miller, and I wasn’t about to waste a second of it.

Chapter 8

Francesca~

I never imagined I’d feel this exhausted, but I should have. Emotional reunions were always taxing and catching up with Massimo had been extremely emotional. No matter what we talked about, I couldn’t get past the pain in my heart that he would be gone soon. I hurt for him, myself, all the neighborhood kids he’s helped and all the neighborhood kids he’d never get to meet.

When I exited his room, I expected the guards, however, I hadn’t expected Luca. I figured he’d be off doing whatever it is he did these days, and he’d have a ride waiting for me. Instead, he stood up from a chair that had been placed outside Massimo’s room. It hadn’t been there when we arrived, so I imagine it had

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