Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1) - Page 24

“I don’t understand why people watch others hurt each other on purpose. Why do people enjoy inflicting pain on somebody?”

I was the last person she should ask. She had never seen me hurt people. That fight was a joke in comparison to my jobs as an Enforcer of the Camorra. I liked to hurt people. I was good at it, had learned to be good at it.

Chapter Six

His eyes were unreadable. What he was thinking? Perhaps I was starting to annoy him with my constant talk about the brutality of fighting.

Cage fighting was obviously important to him. I was still trying to bring together the three sides of him I’d seen so far: the businessman, the guy next door and the fighter. Though I now realized that only the latter had seemed natural, like it was the only one where he didn’t feel dressed up.

“I should probably leave,” I said. It wasn’t the best idea to be in the changing room with him. People might get ideas and start talking, and that was something I really didn’t want.

He nodded. The way he was watching me sent a shiver down my back. His eyes, always so keen and cautious, and blue like the sky over Texas in spring, kept me frozen. Get a grip. I turned and strode toward the door. Before I walked out, I risked one more glance over my shoulder. “I don’t even know your name,” I said.

“Fabiano,” he said. The name seemed too normal, too gentle for a man like him, especially now, covered in blood.

“I’m Leona,” I told him. I wasn’t even sure why, but for some reason he made me curious. He hooked his fingers in his shorts and I quickly left but before I closed the door, I caught a glimpse of his backside as he headed for the shower. With every step his muscles flexed. Oh hell. I tore my gaze from his butt. There were scars all over his back but they didn’t look like flaws on him. Heat shot into my head and I quickly turned around, only to stare into Cheryl’s face. “Hon, don’t play with the big boys. They don’t play nicely,” she said cryptically.

“I’m not playing with anyone,” I said, embarrassed that she had caught me spying on Fabiano.

She patted my shoulder. “Just stay away from the likes of him.”

I didn’t get the chance to ask her what she meant. Roger shouted for her to come into his office. She thrust the mop at me. “Here, you have to clean the cage.” Then she rushed off.

It was already two in the night and I was incredibly tired. Only a few guests were scattered around tables, drinking their last beer. But most people had left after Fabiano’s fight. I shuddered when my eyes took in the bloody mess that was the fighting cage. I’d never had trouble with blood, but this was more than I’d seen in a long time. The last time I’d had to clean up such a mess was when my mother had hit her head on the bathtub in her crystal meth stupor.

I sighed. There was no use in postponing the inevitable. I climbed through the cage doors and began mopping. Around me the last guests gathered their things, about to leave. I waved at them when they called out a good night to me.

I kept my eyes open for Roger, hoping he’d give me some cash for today’s work. I really needed a few bucks to buy food and perhaps another pair of shoes. I grimaced when I saw a few blotches of blood had gotten on my naked toes. Sandals definitely weren’t a wise choice for a job like this.

I also occasionally allowed myself a glance in the direction of the changing room door, but Fabiano seemed to be taking his time showering. An image of him naked under a water stream came up, and I quickly wiped the last bloodstain away and got out of the cage. I was too tired to think straight. I needed to get home, though the idea of walking home in the dark for over a mile didn’t sit well with me. I wasn’t easily scared but I had a healthy sense of self-preservation.

After I’d put the mop and bucket away, I continued into the corridor that led to Roger’s office, but I hesitated half way through it. A woman was screaming. I shivered. Then I heard Roger’s voice. “Yes, you like it up your ass, you slut. Yes, just like that.”

Cheryl was the one who’d screamed, but apparently in pleasure. This was too disturbing. I desperately needed the money Roger owed me but there was no way I was going to interrupt whatever they had going on. I backed away and straight into a strong body. I opened my mouth for a startled scream when a hand clamped down on my lips. Fear shot through me, and instinct took over. I shoved my elbow back as hard as I could, and collided with a rock-like stomach. My opponent didn’t even wince but he tightened his fingers on my waist, which I hadn’t even noticed before. “Shhh. It’s me.”

Tags: Cora Reilly The Camorra Chronicles Romance
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