Page 129 of Dance of Deception

A slow exhalation leaves his lips, his grip tightens like a vice, and I swear, the whole room vibrates with the barely contained emotions flickering over his face.

“He’s—

“I know who the fuck he is,” he hisses quietly.

He lets me go and turns slowly.

I grab his elbow. “He has a gun,” I warn.

“It’s not going to help him.”

Then he moves like Death himself.

“Everyone out.” His voice is dangerous, slicing through the stillness of the bar.

The bartender doesn’t hesitate, just drops the glass in his hand and bolts. The few patrons scatter like roaches, shoving past each other in their hurry to leave.

Carmine slowly walks back to the booth in the rear of the bar as I sharply suck in a breath.

Kevin lurches to his feet and whirls as if to throw the first punch.

He never manages it.

Carmine’s enormous hand wraps around his throat, lifting him clean off his feet before hurling him across the room. Kevin slams into the wall, denting it before slumping to the floor, gasping for air.

Chris scrambles back, eyes bulging in horror.

“Fuck you,” Marcus sneers, jamming his hand into his coat. “Get the fuck?—”

As he triumphantly yanks out the gun, Carmine grabs a pint glass, dumps out the beer, and brings it smashing down onto Marcus’ hand.

Marcus screams as blood spurts from the back of his hand, the gun clattering to the floor.

“You son of a bitch!” he wails, clutching his hand, his face twisted in pain. “You fucking son of a bitch!”

That’s when Kevin manages to drag himself up and lunge at Carmine.

Bad move.

Carmine sidesteps, grabs Kevin by the scruff of the neck and slams him down on a table. The wood splinters under the impact.

Kevin groans, flailing. Carmine hurls him to floor, grabs the chair Kevin was sitting in earlier, and raises it high overhead.

Holy fuck.

I watch as my husband morphs into an actual demon, bringing the chair down and smashing it over Kevin’s head again and again until the light goes out in his eyes and blood is leaking from his ears.

Marcus is still writhing on the floor, trying to crawl away. He screams in agony when Carmine calmly walks over and stomps his heel down on the glass still embedded in Marcus’ hand.

Carmine grabs the sobbing, bleating man by the collar and hauls him up onto his knees. And then he starts to beat him like I’ve never once seenanyonebeat anyone else.

It’s…shocking.

Almost too much to watch.

Almost.

At one point, Carmine slows. His raised fist is dripping blood as his gaze slowly turns to lock on my wide eyes.

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