Eight
Vito
Two weeks.
Two weeks since I have heard her laugh.
Two motherfucking weeks since I felt her by my side.
With nothing more than a single day in the sun, digging in the dirt and she is under my skin. She is so fucking deep that I feel as if my skin is too tight, and I can’t fucking breathe. I dream about her every night.
Some are nightmares of Alan getting to her.
Some are of her on her knees, my hand fisted in her hair as she swallows my cock.
I either wake in a cold fucking sweat or with my cock fisted in my hand and her name on my lips as I come all over my stomach like some fucking teenager.
By day four of that, the need to haul her away from her life and lock her in the main house on the farm where I knew she was okay was nearly too fucking much.
I was halfway to her house to do just that when I got a call from Giaco letting me know that our borrowed shipment was only an hour out and the load wouldn’t be handed over to anyone but myself or Andre.
I flipped my SUV around, dialed the number of one of my soldiers, and let him know his job was to keep her safe but stay unseen.
Doing that did very little to squelch the need to go to her and make certain she is okay.
I slam through the barn door with frustration and anger rolling off me to the point all my soldiers are sure to stay clear of me.
I take in the men working to get our last shipment until we get back from Nashville pulled together.
As I make it to the office door, I stop short when I see it’s cracked and there is movement inside.
I slide my suit jacket open, placing my hand on the pistol at my side.
Slowly, I place my foot by the door and push it open.
I feel the buzz of an upcoming fight sliding through me.
The door swings open and standing in the office is one of our soldiers sifting through a legitimate horse farm’s file.
Once the door is open far enough for me to slide through, I step in and quietly push the door until it’s nearly closed, then I clear my throat.
Hank spins around, and all the color drains from his face as his eyes land on mine. Leaning back against the doorjamb, I say nothing while waiting for him to decide how he is going to handle being trapped.
“Vito, how are you doing today?” He finally settles on playing stupid.
“I’m doing much better now that it seems I have something fun to play with,” I shrug nonchalantly.
Hank swallows hard, fisting his hands at his side, eyes darting around wildly. Standing there, I finally get bored waiting for him to figure out what he wants to do next.
“There isn’t a way out of this fucking room except the door directly behind me,” my tone is flat and bored. “You want to tell me why you're in the office digging through paperwork?”
“I was looking for a file for one of the boarded horses. Was told that they were in a filing cabinet in the office in the barn,” he says quickly.
“See, the thing about the file you're supposedly looking for is it would be in the boarder's barn, and if my eyes aren’t deceiving me, that is not this barn .” Releasing a weary breath as if disappointed, I continue, “Let’s try this. You get three chances to answer me properly. If after three you don’t convince me that there is a valid reason you’re digging around in not only an office, but one you have no reason to be in and a barn that you shouldn’t be anywhere near, we’ll start digging for answers my way. ”
His eyes go wide, finally understanding the gravity of the situation that he is in, and stammers, “I-I-I’m telling you that is what I’m doing. I’m new here and got myself turned around.”
Holding up two fingers, clicking my tongue, I shake my head. “That makes two. You have only one more chance. Don’t waste it being a dumbass.”
His shoulders fall in complete defeat. “I fucked up.”
I stand there just looking at the man with a blank stare. He isn’t wrong. He has fucked up, and there is no way out or anyone who can save him at this point. The only option that he has at this point is whether his death is slow and unbelievably painful or if it’s quick.
“I was desperate and needed money. What the guy was offering was just way too much to fucking turn down.” He starts pacing back and forth in the small office, just rambling.
“The reason you did what you did doesn’t fucking matter to me. What matters to me is who paid you and what they damn well paid you for,” I snap, cutting off the flow of information.
He stops in his tracks, eyes darting side to side once again, looking for a place to run to.
Done with the conversation and truly not in the mood for this shit, I pull my gun out and fire a shot in one smooth motion.
The man hits the floor, holding his knee and screaming as red seeps through his fingers onto the floor.
I hear people start running in my direction because of the sound.
Making sure I’m not standing in the way of the door or a gun coming through it, I wait for my men to flood the room.
When the door is opens and they see me standing there glaring at the man at my feet, they stop short.
My right-hand man looks up at me with eyebrows raised. “Vito, why did you shoot the new guy?”
The man on the floor has finally stopped screaming and is looking up at Bryce with eyes so wide they might just fall out of his damn head.
Looking over at Bryce, I cock an eyebrow. “New guy, you say? Is he one of yours?”
Bryce glares down at the man. “Nope, not mine.”
“Well, seems like we’ve got more problems than just this one. Bryce, get him up and placed in the workroom. While you're at it, find me his boss. I have questions that need answers and, unlucky for these poor bastards, I’m in the mood to take things nice and slow.”
“Please, please, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just please don’t,” the man begs.
“Bryce shut him up,” I snap, pulling my vibrating phone from my pocket.
I look at who is calling, and my chest goes tight instantly. “The only reason you’re supposed to be calling me is if something has happened to Loretta, and for your sake that better not be the case.”
“Something has happened,” he states quickly. “Loretta is fine. She’s shaken up some but seems fine.”
“Where?” I snap, making my way toward the door. “Bryce, get everything set up and ready for when I’m done dealing with this situation.”
“You’ve got it, boss,” he calls at my back. I storm through the barn to the waiting four-wheeler.
I clear the miles between the barn and the main house in less time than ever before.
Sliding to a stop beside my SUV, I kill the engine and jump into my SUV, peeling down the driveway at breakneck speed.
My tires squeal as I get out onto the road.
The sound of someone yelling finally breaks through my haze.
Placing my phone back to my ear, I’m finally able to hear what he is trying to tell me.
“Where?” I bite out, sharp and fast, cutting him off.
“The diner,” is all I allow him to say before I hang up the phone, pushing my SUV to its max.
A drive that would normally take me between thirty-five and forty minutes only takes me fifteen.
As I’m making the turn onto the road the diner is on, my heart nearly slams out of my chest when I see police lights, firetrucks, and even an ambulance.
I skid to a stop in the parking lot, slamming my SUV into park at the same time I throw my door open.
I march across the lot toward the circle of vehicles and people.
When I get to the line of officers, I look around and take in everything.
What I find causes my blood pressure to skyrocket, and the need to kill bursts forward.
“Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” I snarl so low it’s as if the universe itself goes still with bated breath.
“Sir, you need to step back. This is a crime scene.” The young officer’s tone and words are like the crack of a whip.
I lock eyes with the man, making sure there is no chance he will miss what I have to say next.
“I do not give a damn who you think you are. What I do know is that someone better tell me exactly what is going on here. If the moment comes that I must ask a second time, there will be an entirely new department tomorrow.”
I watch in shock as he squares his shoulders, eyes narrowing on me. “I do not know who the hell you think you are, but—” His words are cut short when the captain calls out.
“Vito, what can I do for you tonight?” he asks, looking between the young officer and me.
“You can start by telling me what the fuck is going on here?” I call back, never looking away from the man in front of me.
“Some vandalism and a fire of an employee’s car. Nothing that should concern you gentlemen,” Captain states as he slaps me on the back.
I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Who?”
The captain waves his hand dismissively. “Oh, some waitress. She was inside working when it happened. So, no harm, no foul!”
“Which one was it? This is the last time I’ll ask anyone what happened.” My temper is growing to a boiling point.
He sighs before turning to one of the detectives. “What was the name of the waitress again?”
The detective looks over. “Loretta Wagner, sir.”
Her name slices through the night like a hot knife through butter. I don’t give any of these dumb fuckers a second look before turning to march inside the diner to find the woman that has stolen my every thought since the day I drove away from her house two weeks ago.