Page 60 of The Devil's Deal

Once I’m done with her, she’ll be gone. Far enough where I can’t be tempted to get a taste of those luscious lips and every other place in between.

I have to get the aftertaste of Chiara off my tongue before I bury myself deep inside her the way I’ve been tempted to. She makes me crazy. There’s a fire within her that ignites my very soul, making me want her with sheer depravity.

No woman has ever spoken to me the way she does. She’s different than the rest. I want to kill that fiery spirit while cultivating it and helping it grow. I like her fighting back, but I fight harder and a lot dirtier.

Rubbing the back of my head, I keep the focus away from Chiara and on the mission at hand.

“How long?” I ask Miles, our head of security and the driver of the van my brothers and I are in. He’s the only one of my men I truly trust.

“Five minutes out, sir,” he says over his shoulder.

Miles is excellent at his job, an ex-sniper who was once a Navy SEAL. All the men who work for me have high-level military backgrounds. For the kind of shit we’re involved in, only the best will do.

He makes a quick left as I scan the faces of the other two guys here. Another eight men are in the van behind us, heading for the strip club, not knowing what awaits, but ready for anything.

After I left the house, I prepared for tonight with my brothers and our men at Enzo’s. I can’t do shit at my place with Chiara there, and Dante can’t either, with Raquel at his place.

The van stops, arriving a quarter of a block away from the club with nothing but trees and lanterns lining up the quiet street. The crickets are the only ones awake, and we want to keep it that way.

One of my tech guys in the other van was in charge of killing the camera frequencies within a three-mile radius. Every Ring cam, dash cam, every fucking cam you can think of has been dead for hours.

“Sir, we’re positioned,” Roger alerts me through my walkie-talkie. “We see some movement inside. Two men so far. Both armed.”

Roger is one of my most lethal guys, probably from his days as an Army sniper. He also runs a mixed martial arts school by day, but no one knows exactly what he does for me at night.

“Stand by,” I say.

“Ten-four.”

“We’re going through the back,” I tell my guys. “Keep your masks and gloves on at all times. Kill any man inside.”

My brothers and the rest of the guys pull down their black face masks, semi-automatic pistols in hand, and another two strapped to each of their bodies. I like these weapons. I remove mine from the duffle bag on the floor. Faro has good taste. The irony of using his own guns on his people doesn’t escape me.

We exit the van, taking slow, measured steps to the back of the club. A few men from the other van wait inside on standby, watching for possible threats.

Our boots crunch over the gravel, and as we near the door, I peek inside through the glass window on the door, finding two men pacing back and forth, nine-millimeters in hand. But they don’t see us yet. They’re not close enough. They’re positioned around the middle, by the bar where I first spoke to Chiara. I gesture with two fingers, alerting everyone of what I see.

Faro must’ve seen me grab her from the camera footage at the club and sent his people here. I wanted him to know. There must be more men hiding inside.

I take out the keys I stole from her and carefully place one in the door, turning until I hear a click. And in the silence of the night, it sounds louder.

Ominous.

Dante and Enzo are on the other side of the door, with the rest of the guys spread out behind us.

I nod once, giving them the signal to be ready. Shoving the door open, we rush inside as the men shout in alarm.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

We start shooting, bullets flying past my head. Three more men run out from the doors leading to the back of the club, firing round after round.

One bullet flies past my ear as I duck and kneel, firing at one son of a bitch right in the calf as I go down.

He screams in agony.

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