Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,79

Two whores were dead, and the others were crying and staring at me like I was the devil.

I walked past them toward Romero and Cesare. Romero was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. Matteo staggered to his feet, eyes wide, almost feverish. It was the thrill of the kill I knew only too well. “You crushed his fucking throat with your bare hands!”

“Father won’t be happy,” I said, then glanced down at my hands. I’d killed so many, but this felt different. It had been more personal, fucking thrilling. Feeling the life drain out of him, feeling his bones break under my palms…Fuck, I’d loved it.

Cesare regarded my face. “You all right?”

My mouth curled. Did he think crushing my cousin’s throat had bothered me? “Call my father.” I turned to Romero, who looked a bit shaken. “How bad is it?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. The bullet went straight through. One of Junior’s friends got his guns the same time I did.”

I nodded, but my mind kept replaying my cousin’s death. My eyes were drawn to the uninjured whores, wondering if any of them had been involved in this.

Matteo stepped up to me. “Fuck. I can’t believe our own cousin tried to kill us.”

“You had your knife,” I said.

“You know I never go anywhere without it,” Matteo said with an unsettling grin.

“I won’t put my fucking guns down ever again.”

Romero came closer, looking a little shaky. “Do you think your uncle and your other cousin were involved?”

“Probably,” I muttered. I doubted that Junior had come up with the plan by himself. It fit Gottardo’s character that he’d talk one of his sons into this instead of risking his own fucking life. Coward.

“Why did he risk it? Even if he’d managed to kill us, there would still be your father, and he’d avenge you,” Romero said.

“No,” I gritted out. “If Matteo and I had been stupid enough to get us killed by Junior, Father would have considered us weak links. He would have allowed Nina to have a child, and then he’d have had a new heir. End of story.”

Matteo grimaced because it was the truth. We both knew it.

“I need a fucking drink,” I growled in the direction of one of the whores. She rushed toward the bar and poured me a whisky before she brought it to me. I regarded her closely as I took a sip, and she lowered her eyes. “Did you know?”

She shook her head jerkily. “No. We were told this was a birthday party and we were supposed to dance. That’s all.”

I walked over to one of the armchairs with my drink and sank down. The whore whose throat Junior had cut lay beside it in a puddle of blood. Eventually, Matteo, Cesare, and Romero sat down across from me as we waited for Father and his men. There was nothing else to do. We’d killed Junior and his friends, so we couldn’t question them, and Gottardo and Angelo were all the way in Washington. I caught the looks Romero and Cesare gave me, a mixture of respect and shock.

Matteo shook his head. “Fuck. That’s not how I wanted to spend this day.”

Father, his Consigliere Bardoni, and several soldiers arrived about one hour later.

Father barely glanced our way before he headed for my cousin. “You crushed his throat?” he asked, inspecting what remained of Gottardo Junior. I caught the hint of pride in his voice. I didn’t want his fucking approval.

I nodded. “I didn’t have any weapons because I assumed I was among family and not a fucking traitor. He choked on his traitorous blood.”

“Like a Vise,” Matteo commented.

“Luca, the Vise,” Father said with a strange smile.

It had been a long fucking day, long fucking weeks, one ordeal followed by another. I wanted to kill every single one of my uncles. “I’m so over them treating me like a fucking kid,” I said as Matteo and I headed for the entrance of the Sphere.

Matteo grinned and ran his hand through his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time. One day I was going to knock him out and shave his fucking hair off to stop his annoying preening. “You’re seventeen, Luca. Not yet a man.” He imitated Uncle Gottardo’s voice in annoying perfection, including the nasal undertone that made me want to rip his vocal chords out of his throat.

I had seen the fear in his eyes—the same fear I saw in many people’s eyes since I’d crushed Junior’s throat. Gottardo was only able to