for what will become of her Lorenzo Ros—
“And if all that isn’t enough, your stepfather is a con-man and a chronic gambler.” Bradford’s words cut me off mid-thought. “I did a little research on the prick. He moves around the country preying on terminal women, and his name is Gino Carrollo. Not Lorenzo Rossi. The different well-established alias’ he uses with each woman has kept him from getting caught and changing his look over the years. Once he bleeds them dry or they pass away, he moves on. But this time, he broke the pattern, and he went too far. Your stepfather royally fucked up.”
“Jesus, Lor—Gino. You even lied about your name. My poor mother, I bet that was all a lie too.” Call me naïve. “Did you even love her?” I hate my voice breaks showing weakness in front of this con artist.
He’s cradling his hand, throwing a pity-party for one. “I cared enough for her. I am still here making sure you aren’t lonely, you stupid bitch.” His attempt to belittle me is a joke.
“You’re a despicable human being. What the everloving hell is wrong with you, Lor—Gino?!” I growl like a wounded animal, getting all up in his face.
“How much is your debt?” I still hold out hope I can fix this mess. “Charlie Roemer is happy to kill me if you don’t pay the debt you owe. Why do you even have debt? The bar covers itself, and the building belongs to my family. You are just the caretaker until I turn twenty-five, in case your memory has slipped you. What jeopardy have you put my family’s legacy in and cut the bullshit?”
“I owe Roemer four million from gambling debts. I used the tavern as collateral… and the building.” His smirk breaks the camel’s back.
“YOU WHAT?!” I roar, my fists balled as I take a swing at his nose, connecting with a satisfying crunch and a river of blood. But I suspect his nose was already broken from his scuffle with Bradford.
Loren—Gino howls, cursing me.
“I’m calling the police.” I wave my phone in the air.
“Queenie, look out!” Bradford shouts, launching himself toward me, taking the kick that was meant for me to his right hip bone.
Ferocious growls fill the room as the pack of men swiftly circle Gino like he’s prey, cutting him off from the two of us. If their bodies had fur instead of skin, I swear it would all be standing on end.
“Bradford—?”
He holds a hand up, effectively silencing me. “I’m okay,” he grits out through his teeth. Please step way back from these men.” I’m not sure if he is more worried about Gino or the circle of large men about to go wild.
What I know is he chivalrously saved me from suffering the pain I can see etched into his face. I need to do something. I ignore Bradford and push at the shoulders of two men, trying unsuccessfully to get them to part the way. “Step aside, gym-lovers. It’s my family’s business. The bastard is mine.”
Blondie ignores my request, punches Gino hard in the eye, and then without hesitation, attaches himself to my stepfather’s back, his thick muscular arms acting like two belts securing Gino in place. “I told you what I would do. I don’t make idle threats.” I like Blondie. He talks the talk and walks the walk.
The sea of muscle divides the way. “I can work with that. Please hold him still.” I line up the goalposts (Gino’s legs) and swiftly kick as hard as possible between the posts. From the sounds Gino makes, I scored the highest score of the day.
With tears trailing down his now purple face, he sucks in mouthfuls of air until he can speak. “The message you received states, no police,” he coughs out angrily.
“Rules are meant to be broken. I want you out of my family’s home and locked up. I can deal with paying Roemer the money he needs.”
“Your word against mine.” The demented smug shit thinks he can pull one over me.
“Lucky for you, Miss, I’ve been filming the whole time. Unlucky for you, Gino.” Hemsworth points to the bar. “Over there is a recording device wedged between two bottles behind the bar and one on the table of that booth”—he points—“capturing two different angles. You can thank Mr. King for that idea. He didn’t trust the cameras to be operational you have set up in the bar. And if it isn’t enough, you might want to note the