Page 26 of Sinful Sacrifice

Did it help heal them or reduce the pain?

Hell no.

But it felt nice to know someone gave a shit.

Not that I deserve her gentleness.

Her sweetness.

Us men in this world, we handle darkness and brutality. And even though we deny it, that shit haunts us.

Even kills us sometimes … or the people we love.

I close my eyes, the memory of my family an endless loop in my head.

“Why did you bring her here?” Antonio asks, snapping me from my thoughts. “That’s out of character for you.” He reclines in his chair, as if waiting to give me a therapy session.

I’m Antonio’s right-hand man, and we grew up together. Our fathers were close friends. And although I’m three years older than him and closer in age to Vinny, I fucking hate his brother. Antonio and I are responsible and levelheaded. That’s why we get along well. We keep to ourselves and don’t create problems for the hell of it.

And while this life doesn’t grant much privacy, we try our best to have ours.

Because of that, I don’t bring anyone not affiliated with the family around. No friends. No women. No fucking one. There’d be too much guilt if they got caught in the crosshairs. It’s too risky.

For reasons beyond me, I’m letting Pippa in. And it’s not just the sex.

Hell, if she’d told me no, she wasn’t ready, I’d still show up at her doorstep.

“The only reason I’m not threatening her life right now is because I know you’re smart.” Antonio harshly taps the side of his head. “I’m trusting you on this. Don’t make me regret it, and don’t you dare tell anyone else. She’s a liability.”

“You know I won’t.”

Vincent Lombardi would flip his shit if he knew I was getting close to the daughter of a gambling addict who’s owed us money on many occasions. He runs the enterprise with an iron fist.

A knock on the door interrupts us.

“Yeah?” Antonio calls out, and the door opens.

Julian walks in, his face grim and his eyes bloodshot. His suit needs a goddamn iron—a condition he’d never have left the house in before. Knowing him, he hasn’t slept either. Just like me, he’s punishing himself.

We should’ve been there to protect them.

Should’ve waited to make a move on the Popovs.

And now, we’re the only limbs hanging on what's left of our family tree.

“Antonio.” He pays Antonio a respectful nod before tipping his chin toward me.

I return the gesture.

That’s our version of a brotherly hug.

We’ve done well at holding in our composure. Since we’re not ones to cry, we take our pain out in the form of violence.

“We killed two Popovs yesterday,” he informs Antonio. “The CEO who’d paid for the hit and his son who’d arranged it.”

Antonio nods in approval.

“We’re tracking the locations of the CFO and his brother who knew about the plan,” I add. So far, we’re narrowing down their locations. They’re out of the country, but they can’t hide forever.

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