Chapter Two #5
“Thank you,” he sniffs before Marco gets on the line, “Make him cry again, and you’ll taste my Glock.”
I almost throw my cell at the wall after he hangs up. My chest is still heaving with fury when I look down at Enzino. His eyes are laser-focused on me, studying intently. Did he overhear the phone call? Fuck!
“Don’t think I won’t use it.” I push the tip of my knife against his collar until I see crimson blood. Just a drop, but the frightened gasp leaving his lips slightly soothes my rage.
“Wait! I really don’t know where Mario is. He disappeared a few weeks ago,” he says uselessly. “You got my purse, my phone is in there. You can check, he contacts me from time to time, but he never said where he was.”
That’s true, cloning his phone was quite useful.
What if he asks him, though? I could learn Mario’s location.
My mind starts working through the various steps.
I need to tell Seb and wait for the phone to be thoroughly checked before doing anything.
I also have to be careful not to make Mario suspicious.
He’s smart like all psychos, but his little brother seems to be his weakness.
Tomorrow, everybody will hear about Enzino’s nuptial disappearance due to “cold feet.” It could be a reason for the brat to contact Mario, asking for help, maybe?
I need to calm down. Seb is right, the brat could be useful.
“You want him dead, don’t you?” Enzino’s question makes me refocus on him. He pushed the tie off his mouth again. I should’ve tied his hands behind his back.
“He’ll be soon,” I state with a rumbly voice. I pull the knife back and sit on the coffee table.
“Doubtful,” I think I hear him say.
Disrespectful little shit. I grab one of the apples from the grocery bag Jeff left on the table.
“I’m Enzino’s worst nightmare. You will all bleed and burn.” I sink my blade into the fruit, staring at the juice dripping down the red side.
“Who are you?” He frowns.
“Luca Nero,” I declare, cutting the apple in two.
Strangely, he doesn’t say anything about his friendship with Fly, even though I see recognition in his gaze as his frown smooths down. His eyes flicker to my scars before going back to mine.
“Look, I don’t care if you are Jason Mamoa’s cousin or Moana’s friend; I have nothing to do with the family business. Let me go! My memory sucks, I won’t remember a thing after. I have a goldfish brain in that area.”
“No,” I simply state, stabbing a piece of apple with my knife and then sliding it into my mouth.
“I’d give you Mario on a silver plate. I hate that fucker, but I know nothing!”
“Doubtful,” I repeat his previous word, sliding my teeth over the blade to get another piece of fruit into my mouth. “You are marrying Coretti’s daughter, you are knee-fucking-deep in your family business.”
He huffs. “Are you blind on top of crazy? Aurora and I are being forced to do it by our fathers. God! Why don’t you just stab me?
That’s all you want, right? Hurt me even though I’ve done nothing?
You are all the fucking same. Come on, do it!
” He’s baring his teeth at me, actually provoking a thirsty man with a fountain of fresh water.
“I’ll get stitches and heal. Not my first show…” he mutters, almost too low for me to hear.
I stifle a frown. Is he into masochist shit? That would explain his lack of proper fear. Maybe he’s simply insane.
“Stop with the mumbling,” I growl, grabbing him by his throat. “Tell me about this wedding. What is your father planning to do after?”
“Mmm, probably crush everyone on his path to conquer the world,” he deadpans.
“Don’t be smart with me,” I hiss, tightening my fingers before letting him go with a shove. I move to the kitchen to get the bottle of vodka before returning to the coffee table.
“Rustic place you got here.” He glances around while massaging his neck. “Early Unabomber. This sofa feels like scoliosis and smells like rotten wood and insomnia.”
“Get used to it.” But not too much.
My gaze is caught by the movement of his tongue as it goes over the dry blood on his lower lip. He has very plump ones, pink and soft-looking.
His sudden smirk makes me snap out of the trance. “I’m a legit snack, I know. Want to give it a bite?” He purrs like a cat in heat.
This guy is a fucking chameleon. Changing his tune whenever it suits him. Playing the arrogant Mafia prince, the victim, the slutty charmer. I feel like tearing him up and…eating his pieces. It must be the apple scent. The urge to kill him is stronger, though.
I flip my Enzino-killer’s blade down and in a swift, precise move pierce it between his thighs into the sofa cushion. Widened, shocked light blue eyes stare back at me just before his knee hits the bottom of the bottle of vodka I’m holding, making it spill all over my pants.
I reflexively stand up as soon as the freezing cold liquid reaches my skin through my clothes. He takes advantage of my momentary distraction and elbows me in the gut before running toward the window.
I take a sip of liquor. Oh, he’s going to fucking pay for this.