Page 61 of Sinful Sacrifice

“You won’t be billed,” I assure her.

Enya’s green eyes widen, and she thrusts her chin forward. “You’re paying for it?”

“Yes.” I shove the phone into my pocket.

“What happens if you break up?” Enya motions between Pippa and me. “Will you have your men come here and rip it off my wall?”

Pippa sighs. “No, Mom. Don’t be dramatic. Damien is doing something nice.” She glances at me and mouths, “Thank you.”

I wait for Julian to arrive before leaving. Pippa stays behind, and I instruct Julian to escort them anywhere they go.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Pippa, kissing the top of her head.

Enya and Lanie stare at us in curiosity. I don’t blame Pippa for not telling them about us. It’s complicated, and her mother grew up similar to my life. Different organizations but same dynamics.

I return to Pippa’s apartment, where Emilio is watching TV while the Razzos are tied up with tape over their mouths. I sent him a text, telling him not to help them.

I screw a silencer on the end of my Glock. Freddy attempts to scoot away when I approach him.

“You touch things that are mine, you die,” I say before pressing the barrel against his temple.

His body jolts when I pull the trigger.

I don’t kill his brother yet.

I want him to sit there and have to stare at his dead twin for a few hours.

Think about his stupid actions.

Then, either Emilio or I will put a bullet through his idiotic brain.

21

What a dummy I was for always insisting we sleep at my apartment instead of Damien’s brownstone.

His bed is ten times comfier.

The sheets softer.

There’s central freaking air.

No one is stomping upstairs or vacuuming their apartment.

The spot next to me is empty and cold, but Damien’s masculine scent lingers on the sheets, relaxing me.

I didn’t argue when he told me I was sleeping at his place. I no longer feel safe at my apartment right now. It sucks since I adore my place. It isn’t much, but it’s still a home I worked hard for.

Groaning, I throw an arm over my eyes to block the sunlight streaming through the curtains covering a wall of windows. Yesterday’s events swallow my thoughts, a bitter reminder of the chaos.

The loan sharks.

My father fleeing New York.

My mom losing her shit.

The detective.

Shit!

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