Page 20 of The Sicilian Brotherhood I

“I just want my diamond, that’s all.”

I was growing tired of the insinuations. Maybe if the gang wasn't so focused on sex, we would have had the diamond in our possession already.

“Ya sure? You seem a bit pent up,” Pietro teased, pointing his gun at Santo’s head and mimicking me firing.

“Raimondo had it coming.”

“Do you have to be so cold, Giac?”

Only with rapists. Only with men who harmed women and children.

“Where are you going then?”

“Can’t tell you. If the Sardinians know I have her, they’ll want her back.”

“You could always get the information out of her faster. She’s seen you kill a man. She’s a civilian. She must be terrified.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” I replied.

Santo and Pietro nudged each other. I was getting tired of the crush talk like I was some kind of teenage girl. I had bigger problems to worry about like my diamond and getting it back before I attracted the wrath of bastards far tougher than Franco.

“Fine, leave. We’ll stay here.”

“I may need you.”

“We’ll be on call.”

“Move all the kilos in Nashville before next week.”

“Got it, boss.”

I called upstairs, “Elena! Bring her down.”

She came downstairs beside Elena, her eyes widened in terror. I hated that she looked at me that way. She was the first person in a long time I’d met who hadn’t seen what I could do up close. Most of my men knew I was ruthless but it shocked her as if I’d somehow burst her bubble about how pristine the world was.

Maybe Franco had sheltered her from the reality of his life. I couldn’t. I refused to water myself down for any chick on the planet. I was a biker — that meant getting drunk and high, driving across the country miles above the speed limit, selling drugs and wasting any bastards too stupid to get out of my way.

“Good. She’s dressed. Do you have her passport from the ceremony?”

“Yes,” Elena nodded.

I’d had Raimondo rob the honeymooners luggage before we’d left with her. Elena held up the passport and I took it from her.

“Good. Now come,” I gestured to her.

She followed and stood at my side, coming up to only about my shoulder.

“We’re off.”

“To where?” Elena asked.

“I already told you to be quiet Elena!” Pietro huffed at her. She flinched and then bustled away to the kitchen.

I grabbed Dahlia’s hand and walked her out of the house.

“Those Elena’s sneakers?”

“Yeah.”

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