Page 86 of Naughty Santa Daddy

“Boss, he can’t talk—”

“Isaidget that fucking worthless piece of skin offmychains!” I yell, cutting him off. “I don’t give a shit if he can speak or whistle fucking Dixie! Get his knees on the damned floor!”

My eyes land on the shears that were flung to the side after I used them the last time, dried blood on the blades from the previous asshole. I grab them and rip them open while my menfollow my orders. It takes a short time, but then the man is in front of me.

The son of a bitch’s head lunges forward when his legs bend against the floor.

“She is mine,” I growl, not taking the time to look at the proof of what Big John told me. There will be time for that when this is over. Right now, though, I’m putting an end to this sack of shit’s life.

The whites of his eyes widen when I kick my leg out just in time to connect with the left side of his face. Blood spatters onto my leather shoe on impact, and the man grunts in pain. I catch his head, immediately fisting his dark hair, yanking him back up before he smacks the floor. I ram the shears as hard as I can through the soft spot right behind his chin, and he lets out a high-pitched squeal. A sea of red pours down the blades and handles, making its way onto my hands. His body goes limp, but I’m not finished with him yet. Wedging my knee up on his chest to support his weight, I yank at the handles, loosening the blades from his flesh and push forward with all of my force. His body tumbles backward with me on top of him. Blood drenches my white shirt and decorates my face.

I climb off his motionless body and get to my feet. I spit on his body.“Maledetta sanguisuga!”I cuss, walking away from him, leaving a trail of bloody shoe prints behind me.

Big John follows me out a few minutes later. “I know we don’t usually do this…”

“So don’t,” the words rip out of me in an immediate response.

“Yeah. Ok. But what happened in there wasn’t the normal—”

“Normal what, John? Normal way I kill someone? Since when doesmykilling have a code of fucking conduct?” I glare at him, my chest rising and falling with the hatred still inside me. I don’t give a shit if I have to kill every last one of these men coming after Hadley with my bare hands. I will.

A smirk pulls at his lips. “Killing having a code of fucking conduct…” he mumbles to himself with a shake of his head. “What I meant was that wasn’t the norm—”

I stare at him, daring him to finish his statement.

“Revenge wasn’t the only thing on your mind in there.”

“Fine. Enlighten me, John. What was on my mind other than revenge and protecting what’s mine? Tell me how that is fucking different than any other time.” I take a step toward him, balling my bloody hands into fists.

“You said it yourself, Boss. You were protecting what isyours. It’s clear as fucking water that leech isn’t our only problem. Hadley is.”

“How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Because, Massimo, you love her. You won’t be able to stop yourself from protecting her, not even if it means sacrificing yourself and the rest of us along with you. And that’s a big fucking problem, considering she had a target on her back before you found her.”

I want to argue with him, but the words don’t come out right away.

“Cazzo,when the time comes to protect what’s mine, I’ll make the right decision. I always do.”

That was a lie, and I knew it even before the words left my lips.Time after time since meeting Hadley, I’ve gone against my own natural instinct, and the longer I’m with her it only makes matters worse in the judgment department.

“Not entirely.”

“Give me an hour.” I say, tasting blood on my lip and spitting it onto the ground.

“Yeah, I’ll check with Adam again to see if he has anything new to report.”

“Good. Call me when this shit is in line and only then.” I state, hopping into my truck.

Stepping into the house with Big John’s declaration on my mind, I search for Hadley. I need answers from her, and she’s going to give them to me today. Not tomorrow. Not three Sundays from today. Hadley and I are sorting things out today.

I only hope Amos is asleep; otherwise, I’ll be explaining why my shirt that used to be white is now red. Not that he hasn’t seen me in worse shape, but when I can, I shield him from the darker parts of my life.

“Where are they?” I question Greta when her eyes meet mine.

“Amos is in his bed, and Hadley is in yours.” Her lips purse while she gives me a knowing look as her eyes take in my state.

“Thank you,” I reply, heading to my room.

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