Page 5 of Sardonic Burn

Oh, thank fuck. It worked.

“No need to apologize. It happens.” His rough voice makes my skin crawl.

“Thank you.” I grab his hand, and he pulls me up, leading me toward his private booth.

The guards are no longer paying attention to me. While Franco has his back turned to me, I use the opportunity to open the small compact of my ring and slip the drugs into his glass.

I’m careful not to be seen and then glance at my wristwatch.

I have approximately fifteen minutes before the drugs start working, which means only fifteen minutes to get him away from his guards and into my territory.

Franco turns to look at me, and I stand in front of his glass, waiting until the drug is completely dissolved.

“I’m truly sorry,” I say, trying to buy time.

“It’s alright. Accidents happen. Are you hurt? You fell pretty badly.”

He reaches behind me and takes the glass of whiskey, bringing it to his lips while holding eye contact. He doesn’t look at the glass, which I’m beyond thankful for.

“It will heal.” I smile.

“What would you like to drink, since yours is spilled all over me?”

I laugh it off and playfully touch his shoulder. “I’m good with anything.”

“Is that so?” he muses with a raised eyebrow. “How do you propose making it up to me for ruining my shirt? It was quite expensive.”

“I can think of a way or two,” I tease with a sly grin.

Barf.

I’m trying my best not to throw up in my mouth and choke on my vomit. If that happens, not only will I die in vain, but I can perfectly imagine the laugh coming from my father. What an embarrassment.

“Can you?” He grabs my hand and places a kiss on the back of it.

“Yes, I can.”

He pours me a drink and we both gulp it down in one go. Now that the drugs are in his system, I have to work quickly.

I take a step forward, lightly touching his forearm and trailing my hand upward until I reach his neck.

“Should we head out so I can show you?”

TWO

Franco has been asleep for the past hour, just long enough for me to take his ass away from any of the De Santis people and drive him forty-five minutes away from the club. The best option was this little, nearly crumbled house that no one has used in the past two decades.

However, I’m starting to get bored. I slap Franco’s cheeks as harshly as possible, but all it does is sway his head to the side. I got rid of the wig as soon as we came in here, and one of my men brought my bike.

I need utmost privacy for what I’m about to do.

My hands reach inside of his coat jacket, rummaging through it until I find his phone. It’s password protected, but Ihave his face, so I easily unlock it. I make sure his GPS is turned on and then snap a couple of pictures.

His contact list is rather short, but it’s interesting.

Among his immediate family and a couple of wannabe mobsters, I find my brother’s number. My brows narrow at that, but I leave all the questions for Niko himself. Now, I’m in a rush to kill this motherfucker before I’m caught.

His brother, Hudson, is the one I send the pictures to. As soon as they are delivered, I block his number and toss the phone to the side, not caring if the screen cracks.

---