His: Tony (The Sabatini Family 2) - Page 3

His eyes run over me. What he sees, I don’t know. All I know is he releases me and steps back. The loss of him is so painful I barely take in his words. “Joseph will see you home to pack up your things. I want you in my home, tonight.”

Shock runs through me. His home? Lisa said he didn’t want women in his home. He went to them. A cell phone rings, he frowns as he pulls it out of his pocket.

“Get dressed.” He orders.

When he answers, he speaks Italian as he turns away from me. The words flow from him melodically. I’m not sure why, but the sound of him speaking Italian calms me as I work to get dressed. It annoys me that my hands are shaking as I draw on my underwear. Everything is wrong, so fucking wrong. Nothing that’s happened since I walked through the door makes any sense. Up is down, wrong felt so fucking right. My fingers can’t get the damn bow right, he takes the ends from me, doing it up swiftly.

Catching my chin, he draws my face up to his. “I have to go. I need Joseph with me. I’m going to have Carmine take you home and get your things. He should be here in about ten minutes.” His finger brushes the skin under my chin as if he enjoys touching me. I tremble at his touch, wanting more. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Give me your phone.”

The demand surprises me, but I don’t hesitate. A step back from him is necessary to pick up my purse and retrieve my phone. Taking the phone from me, he asks for the code to unlock it. I give it without thinking. He’s types something in before handing it back to me. “I’m plugged in. If you need anything, you call me. Got it?”

I nod as my throat tightens against the questions I want to ask him. A last brush of his hand over my cheek. Then he’s gone.

I blink fast as I realize he walked out without unlocking the door. Moving fast. I reach the door and try to open it. The doorknob moves, but it doesn’t open. I’m locked in again. My stomach drops. Fuck. Fuck. Oh god, I am so fucked.

Closing my eyes, I breathe deep. I can’t do it. There is no way I can spend another minute with him. He’s going to chew me up and spit me out without even trying. And killing him? A shudder rips through me at the mere idea of it now. Hurting him, being the cause of pain to him—no, I can’t do it...it would be worse than hurting myself. I don’t understand it. I’m so fucking confused. What the hell had I been thinking? Why hadn’t I listened to Lisa?

Escape. I need to get out now and not look back.

The windows in the living room look out onto the front of the building, it’s too exposed. I go into the bedroom, it looks like any bedroom with a king-sized bed sitting so high up it comes to well above my waist. A long dresser is in front of the bed against the wall. The windows in here open out to the side of the building. There is another apartment building next door, almost a mirror to this one. About twenty feet of grass runs up to a wide drive leading into a garage. While the window opens easily, the screen in the window doesn’t want to move. It takes a few tries before I pop the screen out and crap, I’m too short to get my leg up and over the windowsill.

Looking under the bed I find it, a step stool would be needed for most people to get on the damn bed. With it, I’m able to get my leg over the windowsill, toss my purse down, then fall down on my fat ass to the ground below.

2

Three Days before Christy walks into the apartment

Tony

Sending my foot into the center of the man’s chest results in a satisfying crunch and fresh tears down his face. No more screams, though. I probably punctured his lung with that kick. I inhale deeply from my cigar, the tip glows bright red. The human body can be so frail. Why do men gamble with their frailty?

I roll the smoke around my mouth, savoring the flavor before blowing it out. A nod to Joseph, and he pulls the man up by his neck. I take the cigar from my mouth as I run my eyes over Thomas Perri. Thomas Perri is a smug rich kid who thinks he’s pretty. He’s not as smug as he was at the beginning of this meeting. I press the tip of the glowing cigar into the deep dimple of his left cheek until it’s out. Now he screams. Hm, maybe I didn’t puncture his lung after all.

“I’m sorry. Tony, I’ll have the money...all—” he wheezes. “Get it.”

“Yes, you will. And another twenty grand on top of the hundred thousand you owe me for disturbing my night.” Stupid brown eyes go wide. “You were warned when you took out the loan. Two days late, and you want to tell me you’ll have it when you have it.” I chuckle at the bravery he had shown.

“You’ll have it when I tell you to have it. Think of your wife, Sara. It would be a shame for you to leave her a widow so young. Oh, she’ll be fine without you, of that there is no doubt. She’s not only intelligent, she’s street smart. Sara sees you exactly for what you are. She’ll be a good girl and pay your debt. Your wife also has a naughty side to her, asked me if it was true I was nine inches hard. I let her find out the truth for herself.”

I laugh as his eyes go wide. “She was impressive. It’s not every woman who can take nine inches down her throat like a pro. I understand why you married her. Tomorrow at ten. I’ll see you and my money then.”

Joseph drops the man. He lands on his face and starts sobbing. I smile as I shake my head. Sara was indeed an impressive and smart young woman. She also made it clear she wanted her husband to know she sucked me off. Apparently, Thomas cheated on her often, it hurt and she wanted out of the marriage. Before she left, she wanted to hurt him the way he hurt her. The games people play with each other.

Taking my jacket from Joseph, I wonder if it’s the gray spreading through my hair more and more each day that has people thinking I might be going soft. Or is it that I’m coming up on fifty-one in a few weeks?

At six foot five, with a forty-four-inch chest, thirty-two inch waist, and barely a

ny excess fat, it used to be no one dared to be a day late in paying me. It didn’t matter my stupid nickname, the mob loves to hand out nicknames, was The Librarian. Most men—smart men—feared me on sight. I work out every day and I’m bench pressing three-fifty and holding. Yet Thomas Perri is the third man to try to go without paying in the last six months. I’m thinking I’ll be adding more weight in the next few weeks.

Unease fills me at how much I enjoyed beating the shit out of Thomas. It’s been a while since I let loose as much as I did tonight, and it felt fucking good. It was a high like it had been in the old days. That shit was dangerous, though. Nothing worse than getting high off giving pain. Feeding the high always led to a bigger appetite the next time. A glimmer of the past peeks out, and I shut it down.

No, I wasn’t that man anymore. There is a time and a place for everything. The thing about the mafia was blood and violence would always have their place, and the time was usually from one moment to the next, if you let it be. The crux lay in giving into it at the optimal time, not just when it felt good.

I light a new cigar as I get into the back of the Escalade. A check of my watch tells me I’m running late. Fuck. Carlo is a bitch when I run late. He wants to believe I have a problem with him becoming underboss last year and not me. Even though I’ve told him over and over I was fine with it.

A long time ago, becoming underboss and then Don was what I worked towards. The desire and expectation, guiding the decisions I made as I followed the path my father and his father had laid out for me. Being third generation in the Outfit, my future was secured by the deals and alliances they made. Until the night I lost my boy, and I burned down my world to get vengeance.

For seven bloody days, I let my heart rule my head and killed one man after another without asking permission or seeking approval for my actions. I killed six men of the mafia, not of the Outfit here in Chicago. Maybe if they had been from the Outfit, it could have been swept aside, made nice. But the Outfit and the mafia out of New York don’t mix much. The Outfit, we have our own rules and govern ourselves. Before killing them, I should have asked permission from my Don. He would have approved it with New York, but I wasn’t willing to wait.

Tags: Fiona Murphy The Sabatini Family Romance
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