Page 51 of Unhinged Little Angel

I laugh again. Dante pushes against my chest to get me to move, but instead, I carefully sweep him up into my arms.

“My shoulder’s fucked up, my legs are just fine,” he reminds me, but he doesn’t bother to squirm in my arms.

“Are they?” I ask, setting him on his feet in front of the toilet. Unsurprisingly after a fuck like that, his knees buckle. I wrap my arms around him to keep him from stumbling and grin at the death glare I get in return.

His injured arm jerks, and he frowns like he’s only just remembering that he doesn’t have full use of it.

“Here.” I kiss the back of his neck and reach around him to wrap my hand around his soft cock, streaks of his cum still clinging to the tip. “Go ahead.”

Dante’s breath catches, and for a second, I expect him to argue again, but then he relaxes, letting his body sag back against mine, and he does what we came in here to do. He lets out a little sigh of relief when he’s finished. I give his dick a quick shake, and he laughs.

“I can’t believe you just held my dick while I pissed.” He shakes his head, steady enough on his feet now that I’m able to let go of him and wash my hands.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Angioletto?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips as I look at him through the mirror.

He cocks his head. “What?”

“I would do anything for you.”

Chapter 20

SALVATORE

My eyes are on the dancer spinning around the pole, but I’m not really watching him. Being at Wild without Dante up on the stage feels all kinds of wrong. It’s only been a week of the month-long strict rest Biaggio ordered, and my angel is already climbing the walls. I don’t like to see him bored and frustrated, but I’m more than happy to know he’s safe at home with Luca keeping a close eye on him when I can’t until the Don issue is resolved.

Alessio tosses a newspaper onto the table and drags his chair out, flipping it around so he can straddle it.

“That your work, Sparrow?” He taps the headline on the front page.

Third Body Found in Apparent Motorcycle Club Killing Spree

The accompanying photo is of an unfortunate looking man on a Harley with a scowl on his grizzled face. Sparrow leans over the table to get a closer look while Xaviaro silently takes his seat, his face the usual impassive mask I’ve come to expect from Lorenzo’s trigger man and best friend.

Sparrow rakes his fingers through his hair and then shakes his head.

“You think I’d be sloppy enough to leave my kills just laying around like that?”

Xaviaro snorts, but his expression doesn’t so much as twitch. “Never.”

A devilish grin spreads over Sparrow’s face, and he shrugs, sharing a lingering look with his man for several seconds before turning his attention back to Alessio.

“I’d love to buy the guy a drink though. Whoever he is.”

“They’re calling him The Ghost in the papers,” Alessio says. “There are some interesting theories about him on the online forums.”

“The online forums?” I echo. “Since when are you a true crime junkie?”

Alessio ducks his head, but not before I see a flicker of a grin on his face. “What, Xaviaro is the only one who’s allowed to be fascinated by the vicious little vigilantes in this city?”

Xav rumbles another sound that’s almost a laugh. Sparrow plops himself down right on the hitman’s lap and Alessio folds the newspaper up, tucking it inside his jacket just as Lorenzo and Elio join us. They take their usual seats, and Lorenzo meets my gaze with a nod of acknowledgment.

“How’s Dante?”

“Healing. The swelling and pain are getting better every day.”

“Glad to hear it.” His tone is brusque, but that he even cared to ask about Dante means a lot. Lorenzo turns his attention towards Alessio. Apparently, he can sense the boss’s mood too, because he straightens up in his backward seat. “What did you manage to figure out?”

“Not much.” Alessio’s lips twist in an apologetic grimace and he pulls out the same reports we were looking through the other day before I got the call from Dante. “I found the spot wherethe discrepancies happened, but I can’t explain them.” He flips through the pages, pointing out a few places to Lorenzo, and Elio leans in to get a better look too. “There’s been money transferred into this account from an unknown account every few weeks for the past three months. I don’t know where it’s coming from or why and neither does Sal.” Alessio looks to me for confirmation, and I nod.

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