Page 78 of Finn

Eoghan shoots me a questioning look.

“I don’t need the fucker waking up halfway to the car and screaming his head off,” I say, plunging the contents into his bloodstream. “This should keep him quiet for the ride.”

I look over to the woman shaking on the bed and notice the bruising around her neck and wrists as she clings to the sheet, tears streaming down her face.

“He do that to you?” I ask, pointing at the discoloration.

She nods. “I hope you kill him,” she chokes out, staring at the unconscious man on the floor.

My gaze travels to Cillian, then Eoghan, both of them looking a little uncomfortable while Cillian still holds the gun to the woman’s head.

I look back at the woman. “I have a proposition for you.”

We make it back to my building after lugging the big Italian down a flight of stairs, followed closely by Cillian and Sandra, Orlando’s girlfriend. Or would she be considered his ex-girlfriend? I feel like her telling us that she hopes we kill the man sharing her bed is a surefire sign the relationship is over.

Cillian pulls the car into the underground parking garage of my building. Eoghan helps Sandra from the car, and she stands back while I open the trunk. Orlando is alive but still unconscious in the trunk. Two of my guards help lift him out and carry him to the elevator to take him to a room on the same level as the armory. There’s a small room I had built specifically for instances when we need to get information out of someone and to make cleanup from our “questioning” easier.

“I’m going upstairs for a minute,” I tell the group. “I’ll meet you down there.”

I take the elevator to my penthouse and open the door. Alessia is sitting on the couch waiting for me, the 44 Magnum sitting next to her. I know there’s one bullet in that gun, and I know exactly who it’s going to be used to kill.

She jumps from the couch and rushes me, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Thank fuck,” she breathes, and I lift her from the floor, slanting my mouth over hers.

When I set her on her feet, she smacks me in the arm.

“What the hell was that for?” I ask, rubbing the stinging spot.

“You need to work on your communication skills, Finn. I’ve been worried sick over here, not knowing if everything went okay or if you were on your way back. You should have called.”

“I’m sorry, wife. Next time, I’ll call you when I’m on my way home from a B and E with a side of kidnapping.” My mouth kicks up in a small grin while Alessia continues to scowl in my direction.

“Thank you.” She looks around me but doesn’t see anyone else.

“Where is he?”

“I have him in the basement.”

“And the girl he was with?” Alessia knew I was headed to her place to track Orlando down.

“Seems he doesn’t treat his present girlfriends better than his past ones. I made a deal with her to help her get out of Springfield and set her up somewhere far away if she helps us.”

“Let’s go, then.” Alessia makes a move to the other elevator that goes straight to the basement, but I stop her with a gentle tug at her arm.

“I’m not sure I want you down there yet. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get the information I need.”

Alessia shoots me a questioning look, like she doesn’t understand why that should stop her.

I pull her into my arms and kiss the crown of her head. “The entire ride here, it was all I could do not to pull over and end his sorry existence. You’ve never seen the man I am when someone hurts you.”

The other two times when I had to educate the stupid fucks who thought they could touch her, I was unhinged but in control. This man not only beat her several times over but caused her to lose a pregnancy. He killed her brother, nearly killed her friend, and tried to take her from me. I don’t think there’s going to be much control maintained once I get in the room with him.

Alessia runs her hands up my chest, over my neck and cups my cheeks in both of her small palms. “If you’re afraid I’m going to see the man you’ll become down there, get that thought out of your head this instant. I love you, Finn. It doesn’t matter if you’re an unhinged psychopath or the loving husband who dotes on me. You belong to me, and I belong to you. Nothing changes that. You may not like who you have to be when you walk into that room, but you’re still going to be mine when you walk out.”

I blow out a breath, my arms still wrapped around her body. “That’s the problem. I’m going to enjoy every second of pain I inflict on him. I’m fucking happy he’s not going to live to see another day.”

“So am I.” She places a small kiss on the corner of my mouth. “And that’s what makes us perfect for each other.”

---