eyes. “They’re all dead.”
Gnawing on my inner cheek, I nodded.
They would be buried properly, but every man who entered the Zolotov Bratva understood the risks.
Their lives were in danger everyday just like those of Kirill, Maksim, and me.
I wouldn’t feel sorry for myself either.
These Italian bastards could try to kill me, but I’d go down fighting if that meant Lucia had a real chance to get away.
As she kept her head turned toward me, I noticed for the first time the swollen red-purple streak across her cheek.
And my jaw clamped down. “Who did that to you?”
“Sabato.”
“He was there with his men?” My fingers wrapped around the heavy twine tying my wrists together.
“He didn’t show his face until his goons knocked you out.” She sneered. “I spat on him.”
Of course she had.
As I tried to figure a way out of this mess, my concern remained on her. “Did anyone else touch you?”
“Only to tie me up.
My teeth gnashed together. “That is bad enough.”
I focused on gaining a little more movement with my fingers. My jacket had been removed, and I didn’t have access to my gun or the boleadoras but, if I could get through the knot at my wrists, I’d be free.
I glanced again at Lucia as I remembered the scene of the ambush and the last moments before one of Sabato’s grunts choked me unconscious. “You shot someone to save me.”
“I’d happily do it again.” Brittle irises met mine, her voice cutting too.
I gave a slanted smile at her vehemence then asked, “Did you get a hold of Kirill?”
She shook her head, but clamped her lips closed as ringing footsteps approached.
Both of my brothers were smart, cunning even. If Kirill had at least seen the call, if the phone was still on while the attack happened, he’d know something had gone irretrievably wrong.
If I could get out of these restraints, I’d murder these pizdas one by one with my bare fucking hands.
Starting with the bulky bastard who entered the room to stand in front of us.
“So, you’re awake.”
It was the smirking cunt from the aborted gun trade a couple nights ago.
The one big Italian fucker who’d tried to stop me from speaking directly to Don Asshole Sabato.
Unholstering my gun from his side, the twat waved the Sig Sauer in my face.
“What? Couldn’t afford one of your own?” I raised my eyebrow. “Da, that’s right. I wouldn’t sell you any weapons, would I? And I took your money too.”
I enjoyed goading the dumb behemoth.
Eyes narrowing, he snarled something at me that I couldn’t understand and didn’t care to.
All the while, I continued furtively working on the restraints and I could tell the moment it sank in that he would make no leeway threatening me.
The big lug moved over to Lucia, and it was my turn to snarl. He yanked her chin up then ran the barrel of my gun between her breasts.
As the backs of his fingers made contact with her flesh, I tried to keep my cool when I wanted nothing more than to gnaw his fingers down to the bone.
Lucia notched her head back. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
He guffawed, withdrawing the gun and his hand slowly.
I was going to stab the last breath out of him, the sooner the better.
Breathing heavily, I strained against the ropes. I finally found the fucking knot and began working it looser.
“Here is something you don’t know.” The cunt spoke in slowly formed English, aiming his speech at me. “My name is Roberto Rossi. I’m the only son of Sabato, and I want Lucia for my own too.”
The fresh buzz of fury had my eyes blazing as he meandered between Lucia and me.
“Papa is old. Sì.” His calculating gaze lingered on Lucia, and he tapped the weapon against his chin.
I hoped the shithead misfired and blew his blockhead straight off in a gushing fountain of blood and brain matter just like I’d done to one of his father’s soldiers earlier.
“He will meet his death very soon, yes?” Pacing forward, Roberto the cunt crouched down in front of Lucia.
He pushed the gun into the back of his pants then placed both of his palms on her thighs.
Her heels kicked into the floor, and she managed to screech the chair back half a foot.
He laughed, struck his hand out, and yanked the chair back.
“I will make sure Papa dies soon then you will be mine. A fine inheritance”—he glanced at me, gloating—“don’t you think?”
“I think if you threaten Lucia one more time or