Page 48 of As Devils Love

I wish Crue was here. He’d know what to do.

If his outburst in front of Father was anything to go by, killing Tomas would be his first act of vengeance.

The bittersweet thought is enough to keep me going. But for how long, I wonder?

Chapter Twenty

CRUE

“Can it be? The Big Bad is askingmefor advice?” Mark’s sarcasm is the last thing I want right now. It’s hard enough that I’m asking for help, but the fact that he is poking fun at my vulnerability stings.

Another feeling. She’s changing you.

“Since when isbig bada nickname?” I can’t take my eyes off the window while I talk to Mark to avoid my inner voice. From the second Fiametta kneed Tomas in the nuts, I’ve been glued to it like a housewife watching her afternoon soaps.

“Since I started running out of things to call you? It was this or “cunt,” so count your blessings.” Mark cracks open another beer and flops into a more comfortable position on my sofa.

“Jokes aside, I’ll tell you what I think. But you need to promise you won’t lose your shit when I do.” He’s going to tell me I should snuff out my Little Flame. I knew it when I called him, but I have to go through this anyway. He’s one of the two people on this planet who can talk to the real me, and not the façade that keeps my death-dealing monster at bay. The other is the woman who plagues me enough to need outside counsel on the matter.

I don’t think Fiametta’s going to answer honestly, when the question isshould I kill you and retain my professional integrity or not?

“Fine. I’ll wait until you’ve left before I throw a tantrum.”

Mark snickers. Looking on the bright side of this whole ordeal, I seem to be getting better at telling jokes. That has to count for something.

“Don’t do it,” he says.

“What?” I snap my head in his direction.

“Don’t kill Fiametta. Who gives a fuck about Matteo Baronne’s vendetta? That guy’s filth, anyway. She clearly means something to you. Whatever a sneaky blowy in her dad’s house can mean, anyway. Just be prepared to skip town, and not because I think the mob’s gonna have any chance of bringing you in for questioning.” Mark slurps his beer before finishing. “But let’s face it, not many folks are gonna hire an assassin who can’t get the job done.”

“I wasn’t expecting this.” My response is calm, but my head is spinning out of control. I wanted nothing more than for him to reassure me that this kill is more important than the budding sensation inside my chest.

I turn my attention back to Fiametta’s window and see her lamp is off, but the bathroom light is still on. A few more minutes and she’ll be sound asleep. Then I can make my move.

“Why? Because of the money? Screw that noise.” Mark kicks his feet onto the coffee table, knocking over the empty cans scattered across it. “You’ve made enough out of Matteo’s original list. Man, I got a fraction of what you did, and I don’t have to work another day in my life.”

“It’s not about the money. It’s about hurting Lorenzo Napoli.” I temper my mind and focus on the bigger picture. Lorenzo’s suffering is what this whole endeavor has been about, and it won’t reach its crescendo if I can’t go through with killing Fiametta.

“So hurthimand spare her. Take him to that killing floor of yours. Hook his nuts to a car battery and don’t turn it off until he’s singing,“She’ll Be Coming ‘round the Mountain.”Mark’s right. I hate to admit it, but the best way to make Lorenzo suffer is by bringing the hammer down on him instead of Fiametta.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, and make my way over to the single-seater on Mark’s right.

We share another beer, and then we shift our conversation away from Fiametta, focusing instead on our hunting shop. I’ve neglected it over the past few weeks. And as I hoped it would, bringing the mundanity of normal life back into the room, helps. Mark jumps to his feet and makes his excuses to leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” I say, disappearing into my bedroom to collect the book, my gloves, and my tools.

“Why?” he asks, when I meet him at the door.

“I need the fresh air to clear my head.” The lie flows like water.

“Could’ve gotten it on your balcony.” His lips curl in a knowing grin.

“Maybe I wanted to spend some more time with you, Mark.”

Mark spits out a laugh. “Says the man who chased me away with mind numbing chats about buckshot and bait.”

“That was weeks ago.” We get onto the elevator and start moving down.

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