Page 91 of The Devil Can Be Kind

Without a second of hesitation, I spun around to face the steroid injecting moron that was lucky enough to share a sliver of my DNA and smashed the tumbler over his head.

Fucker didn’t even feel it.

Carlos just smiled as the lacerations quickly started to bleed. Bright red blood trailing down the side of his face and onto his shirt. I barely felt stinging in my own hand as a wetness dripped down my fingers.

“Damn it, Marco. This shirt was new,” was all he said, looking at the blood.

The chatting in the room hadn’t even stuttered at the disruption, such were the ways of my family, but I thought I saw Jesse shake his head infinitesimally.

“Speak of her again and I will cut your fucking tongue out.” I spat, gripping him by his tie.

“Understood Cuz, understood.” He held his hands up placatingly.

Thoroughly pissed off and ready for this meeting to be over despite it not having even started yet, I took to my seat at the head of the table and the men quickly followed.

“Now.” My voice commanded the attention of all in attendance. “Who wants to explain what happened with my goddamn weapons shipment?” I demanded, removing my gun from my trousers and placing it on the table.

All the men either looked away, gulped or took an unsteady slug of their drink.

Good.

They should be fucking scared.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

ADALYN

In typical Chicago fashion, I was given only an hour’s warning before the car pulled up at the front entrance to take me to Marco’s cousin’s club in town.

It wasn’t quite as grand as some of the venues I’d been to in Chicago, but something about the white fixtures and furnishings gave it an ambience unto its own. The blue strobe lights reflected off polished white surfaces, giving the whole place a more ethereal quality than any other bar or club I had been in.

Marco had done his usual disappearing act after the meeting earlier had finished. Not that I minded or cared. I needed to focus on re-building my walls if I stood any chance of surviving in this new life. I certainly couldn’t do that if I was pining over a man thatwouldnever,couldnever want me the way I wanted him.

I sat at the bar with my usual shadow, Alonso, by my side. I had already tried taunting him into being my drinking buddy for the night, but I was met with his usual gruff smile and shake ofthe head. To make things worse. I couldn’t understand anything anyone around me was saying either.

I ordered myself a glass of white wine and just as I took a sip of the cool liquid, the familiar swarm of designer black suits filtered in. The crowded floor of people parted around them immediately. Clearly, the sudden presence of mobsters was anything but unusual for this club, though I was hardly surprised. Displays of reverence, awe or just plain fear washed over some of their faces. Others wore a lustful expression that made my blood smolder and I turned my back to them, downing the rest of my glass in two.

Predictably, Marco and his men went to occupy the club’s restricted area. Raised on a platform, they overlooked the single-story building, more akin to the devil and his demons in hell than the God’s the crowd below clearly believed them to be. I wanted to roll my eyes.

After I emptied another glass of wine, the boredom had started to subside and the urge to dance took over. The floor was packed with warm bodies, all moving to the heavy base and upbeat tempo of the music mixed live by a DJ. I ingratiated myself effortlessly with the crowd and swayed to the music.

It wasn’t long until I felt a familiar sensation brush against my skin.

Following it, I found Marco watching me from across the floor. His chiseled jaw was tilted to the side as if in contemplation, his thighs slightly parted and in his hand was his usual tumbler full of liquor. The picture of ease and power.

And right now his focus was solely on me.

A more provocative track bled into the one before and I began moving to it instinctually, never breaking his gaze. His eyes flicked to my hand as I let it trail between my breasts, swaying my hips in a figure eight before bringing it down to graze my crotch.

His jaw clenched at the motion.

Feeling emboldened, I turned to my side and bent forwards. Flicking my hair behind me in one swift motion that he certainly would havesomethingto say about.

I glanced back over to the booth but felt my heart fall to the floor when I found his seat empty. The glass he had been holding abandoned on the table beside it.

Annoyed, I carried on dancing to the music anyway. I let my body take over, and mid-way through a body roll felt someone press up behind me, their hands coming to rest lowly on either side of my hips.

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