Chapter 15
We made love four times that day—once in the shower, once on the bed, once in the living room. Somewhere around the end of the day, we attempted to take a break to eat, but halfway through making the meal, we ended up fucking right there on the kitchen counter.
I couldn’t help myself.
Every time I looked at Kiera, I wanted to touch her. And every time I touched her, I needed to be inside her.
I’d never felt this way about a woman before.
The idea that I could have lost her, that a piece of shit like Carlo Costa could have taken her away from me, chilled me to the bone.
All day, the only way to stop that horrible aching feeling was to pull her close and feel the softness of her body against mine. The sound of her moans as she surrendered to pleasure reminded me of the vow I’d made.
I would always protect what was mine.
And Kiera was mine.
After this day of constant lovemaking, there was no way she could deny it—especially after she fell asleep, utterly exhausted, in my arms after the last round.
I carried her to my bed, hoping to slip in beside her and cradle her against me as we slept, but the moment I laid her down, my phone gently buzzed on top of the nightstand. After tucking the covers around her, I picked it up. There was a text from Gabriel.
Carlo walked into La Sera five minutes ago
My jaw tightened. Sleep would have to wait. I had work to do.
I walked into the closet and slipped on a set of black clothes and leather gloves before pulling down the large metal lockbox that held my collection of tools from the top shelf.
Swinging open the top, I looked over my options.
The thin wire garrote was tempting but too obvious. I could go with a classic—a couple of slashed wrists from a straight razor to make it look like suicide—but that would put Carlo out of his misery too fast.
After what he did to Kiera, I wanted the bastard to suffer for a good long while.
Fortunately, I had something custom-made to do just that.
A slight smile tugged at my lips as I picked up the glass vial and syringe and slipped them into my jacket pocket. Perfect.
I couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss against Kiera’s cheek before leaving. She made a content, sleepy sound before nestling her head deeper into the pillow, but her eyes stayed closed.
I was careful not to make a sound as I left the apartment.
I knew the place Gabriel had texted. Our brother, Matteo, was a fan of La Sera, a high-end strip club known for catering to the wealthier members of New York’s underworld. It wasn’t far from my apartment.
Instead of pulling up in front of the valet and announcing my arrival to the world the way Carlo, no doubt, had done, I quietly pulled into the back alley.
The delivery door was locked—nothing a few minutes and my lock pick set couldn’t fix. Before long, I was walking through the club’s back hallways.
The staff, used to seeing well-dressed men used to coming and going as they pleased, didn’t spare me a second glance, and I made it all the way to the walkways between the private rooms before any spoke a word to me.
“Oh, wow. Dorian Marchetti.”
I turned to see a familiar face. With flowing blonde hair and body sculpted as perfectly as any Greek statue, Helena was one of Matteo’s favorite dancers in the club.
Like all the other girls who worked the floor at La Sera, Helena was expected to do more than dance for the patrons. She also had to play the role of “personal hostess” to clients in the private back rooms—a designation that barely kept the club owners on the right side of New York’s vice laws.
Though dressed in her current black lace lingerie set, there was little doubt what line of work she was truly involved in.
“I didn’t see you come in,” she said.
“That’s because I didn’t want to be seen.”
Helena gave a genuine smile. “I’m guessing you aren’t here tonight to blow off some steam.”
It was hardly a difficult guess. Though I’d visited the club with my brothers before, it was clear I didn’t share Matteo’s interest in the kind of companionship that required a cash transfer.
Not that I judged Helena for her choice of profession. We all had to make a living in this world, and her job was as valid as any other.
“Unfortunately not,” I told her. “Like you, I’m working tonight.”
Her smile slipped a little. “Who’s the sorry bastard who ended up on your shit list?”
Straight to the point. No bullshit. I could see why Matteo liked her so much.
“Carlo Costa,” I answered.
“Well, my night just got better.” She gave a dark laugh. “I was just on my way to that slimy little prick right now, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. He’s been a menace to the girls here all week. He got so rough with Courtney last night that she had to call off today’s shift to recover.”
It was turning out to be my lucky night.
“In that case, I propose a trade,” I said. “You tell me which room he’s waiting in, and I’ll give you the ten thousand dollars burning a hole in my pocket. There’s another ten grand to forget this conversation ever happened.”
“I’m almost tempted to give up that bastard for free.”
Almost, but not quite.
Helena was nothing if not a shrewd businesswoman. She put out her hand.
I pulled the two thick stacks of cash out of my inner jacket pocket and placed them in her palm.
“He’s in lucky number seven,” she said, her smile instantly back.
“You might want to take your break now,” I told her. “I’d make it a nice long one if I were you.”
I didn’t wait to watch her leave. I was already on my way to find Carlo.
I strode down the hall without worrying about prying eyes or security cameras.
The main draw of La Sera to its high-class criminal clientele was that no one was watching. No cameras meant no video to be handed over to the police. No record of who came and went.
Policies like that didn’t just make my job a hell of a lot easier; they also tricked bastards like Carlo into a false sense of security.
Which was probably why he didn’t even bother turning around when I opened the door to his private room.
“Finally,” he grumbled as the door clicked closed behind me. “It took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for over twenty minutes.”
I threw the deadbolt, locking us in, then turned my back to the door. I clasped my hands in front of me and stared at the back of his greasy head, patiently waiting for him to realize I wasn’t Helena.
Every private room in the club was the same—stone tiled floors, dark wood-paneled walls, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. And in the dead center was a black leather couch that faced a one-way mirror wall. On the other side, dancers and performers acted out all kinds of erotic scenarios, unable to see the clients inside.
Right now, Carlo’s attention was glued to the sight of two naked women, their bodies entwined and writhing on top of black silk sheets.
“You’re lucky I didn’t call the manager and complain,” he continued, still staring at the show. “What are you waiting for? Get over here and start sucking my dick.”
“Hard pass.”
At the sound of my voice, Carlo jumped up from the sofa and swiveled around. His eyes widened in recognition, and in less than a second, the anger on his face turned to panic. Fear filled his beady eyes.
“D-Dorian Marchetti,” he sputtered. “You shouldn’t be here. There must be some mistake. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“There’s no mistake,” I said, calmly shaking my head. I took a step away from the door. “You’re Carlo Costa…and I am the Angel of Death.”
The color drained from his face. “This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it is,” I assured him. “Do you know why?”
He skittered away from me, backing himself into a corner. “No.”
“Last week, you attacked a woman in your home.” Ice-cold rage filled my veins. My hands curled into fists so tight that fingernails bit into my palms. With every step, every word, my fury grew. “You hurt her. Bruised her. Threatened to violate and kill her.”
“Wait.” His brows pulled together in confusion. “You’re telling me this about that bitch maid? Who the fuck cares about her?”
In the span of a heartbeat, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my hand around his throat.
“I care,” I snarled in his face as he impotently clawed at my forearm.
It would be so easy to end him right then and there. I could feel his pulse frantically pounding against my palm, hear him wheezing in gasp after useless gasp of air. All I had to do was squeeze, and I could watch the light in his eyes go out.
But that wouldn’t be justice for what he’d done to Kiera.
“I didn’t know,” he cried, already blubbering like a baby. “If I had any idea that you were the client Rose said she was fucking, I never would have touched her. I swear.”
“Rose?” I cocked my head to the side. “The cleaner?”
“Yeah, she’s the one who told me the maid was a whore,” he blurted. “She’s the one to blame. Not me.”
Just like every other woman-beater I’d ever come across, Carlo was proving himself to be a total coward when it came to dealing with someone his own size.
“She’s not a whore. Not that it matters. It’s not okay to hit them either.”
“Oh God.” Tears started welling in Carlo’s eyes. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He screamed. “Help! I’m in here with a maniac! Someone fucking help me!”
“Go ahead,” I invited him. “Scream as loud and as long as you like. That’s one of the best things about La Sera—all these private rooms are completely soundproof.”
I let his pathetic yelps echo around the room for a couple more seconds before picking him up by the throat and tossing him down on the couch. After a couple of ragged gasps, he started howling again.
“Please don’t do this,” he begged. “I have money—lots of it. I’ll give you everything. Just let me live.”
“I’m not interested in your money,” I told him plainly.
“Then what do you want?”
“For you to pay for what you did to Kiera.” I pulled out the vial and started filling the syringe.
“Somebody help me,” he shouted one last time before changing tactics. Tears gone now, the bastard looked up at me with pure rage burning bright in his eyes. “You know my cousin is the head of the Costa organization. You murder me, and he’ll kill you. The whole fucking family will hunt you down. They’ll go to war with D’Angelos over this.”
“No, they won’t,” I said with confidence. “Because when they find your body, no one is going to suspect murder. The only thing they’re going to see is a tragic accident.”
“Fuck this.” Shooting up from the couch, Carlo bolted for the door.
But he wasn’t fast enough.
I grabbed onto his wrist after a single step and held him tight. Then, I sunk the needle deep into his forearm and pushed the plunger down.
He cried out…then stumbled…then crumpled at my feet.
Grabbing him around the middle, I hoisted him up off the floor and carried him back to the couch, where I sat him down, positioning him as naturally as possible. It wasn’t easy, seeing as his muscles were already starting to tighten.
“What the fuck did you give me?” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“Ketamine mostly,” I explained casually. “Some people take it to enhance sexual pleasure. Not me. I’ve never understood the desire to chemically alter what’s already a perfect experience, but to each their own.”
“Why can’t I move?” Carlo sputtered, the tendons in his neck beginning to stand out.
“That would be the strychnine.” Crossing my arms, I leaned back against the glass wall. “You know it as rat poison. Did you know every now and again, some sociopath will slip it into street drugs just to make people suffer…and they do suffer, Carlo. Strychnine poisoning is one of the most painful ways to die.”
“F-F-Fuck you…”
I bent my knees, crouching down to look the bastard dead in the eyes.
“Let me explain what’s happening inside you,” I said. “Right now, all the muscles in your body are starting to convulse. With every spasm, they will grow tighter and tighter until your body is so stiff that your bones crack and your spine breaks. Eventually, the effects will become so extreme that your heart and lungs will seize. Not your brain, though. That stays fully conscious through the whole experience, meaning you’ll be awake as each one of your nerves slowly suffocates and dies.”
His jaw had already tightened to the point where he could no longer talk. The only sound coming out of him were soft gurgles as white foam began to spill from the corners of his mouth.
“But don’t worry,” I told him, tucking the tainted vial into his front jacket pocket for the police to find before standing up again. “It can take a full hour to get to that point, so we both have plenty of time to enjoy the process.”