Page 62 of Unhinged Little Angel

“You want to do the honors?”

He stares at the gun in my hand for several long seconds, chewing on his bottom lip as he considers the offer. I expected him to jump at it, but after a minute, he shakes his head.

“I might be just a stripper whore, but I have standards.” His words are directed right at Antonio, and my blood boils a few degrees hotter. Stripper whore? Is that what he called my angel?

“Would someone fucking shoot him?” Lorenzo manages to sound bored and impatient at the same time.

He doesn’t have to ask twice, I already have my gun cocked. I let go of my Angioletto, Xaviaro and Sparrow both step aside, and I smirk as I point my pistol at Antonio.

“Better a faggot than a lowlife rat like you.A fanabla,” I growl, and squeeze the trigger.

Antonio jerks like he’s going to make a run for it, but he’s not quick enough. The gunshot echoes through the empty club and blood explodes from his head, painting the floor behind him with a violent spray before he collapses, motionless.

Xav stands over him, looking down with a grunt, trying to keep the crimson river of sticky blood from touching his shoes. “I should really start laying down a drop cloth. This shit would be so much easier.”

“I hope that clears things up,” Lorenzo says, drawing Declan’s attention back to himself.

The Irish boss nods.

“My brother… he’s not going to be a problem. He can get taken in by the wrong people, but now that I know, I’ll deal with him myself.”

I grind my teeth again at the idea of Cian getting away with what he did to Dante. My Angioletto tenses and vibrates against me, holding himself back just as hard as I am. Declan isn’t going to hand his own brother over, I don’t think any of us expected him to. But this gives Lorenzo a card to play, and he takes it.

“On one condition,” Lorenzo says. “There’s one more dangerous little pest in your brother’s ear, and you’re going to let us deal with him ourselves.”

Declan scratches his stubbled chin, holding Lorenzo’s gaze for a long, silent moment.

“His new prison buddy? Don?” Declan guesses.

Dante trembles against me so hard, I have to wrap both arms around him to keep him upright.

“That’s the one,” Lorenzo says. “His release date is in two days. Give us your word you won’t alert himorCian that we’re onto him, and stay out of the way so we can deal with him.”

Declan grunts and then snaps his fingers. His bodyguard on his right pulls a pen out of his pocket and hands it to the boss. Declan reaches across the table to pluck a napkin from the small stack next to the drink menus, and jots something down.

“One better,” he says, sliding the napkin across the table to Lorenzo. “That’s the apartment he’ll be staying at. Go camp out there for two days for all I care, just get this asshole out of the way so I can get Cian back on track and focused on the right priorities.”

Declan stands up, putting both hands on the table and leaning over a few inches towards Lorenzo. A slow grin spreads over his lips and as soon as Lorenzo looks up at him, he winks.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Kitten.”

He turns and strides out with his henchmen a step behind him.

“Cian’s the one who attacked Dante. He fucking branded his arm and tore his goddamn shoulder out of its socket. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just let that go,” I growl through clenched teeth.

“Sometimes life is a compromise. We can’t get everything we want.” Lorenzo folds the napkin and holds it out to me between two fingers. His gaze flickers in the direction Declan disappearedin even though he’s long gone, then back to me. He flattens his mouth into a line. “And something tells me you’ll get your chance at Cian sooner or later. Diplomacy can only stop a war for so long, especially when there are power hungry traitors lurking around.”

I take the napkin and stuff it into my pocket.

“Yeah, well, when the time comes, I call dibs on being the one to put a bullet between that fucker’s eyes.”

“You call… shotgun?” Sparrow chortles.

“I think that would be calling pistol,” Alessio deadpans.

Lorenzo sighs. “What do I have to call to get a fucking drink?”

“I can get you one,” Dante offers, slipping out from under my arm. He stops next to the table, chewing his lip again and shifting on his feet. “And… um… thanks, Lorenzo. For believing me and for getting Don for us.”

---