Page 38 of Whispered Desire

ME:Be there in a sec.

Stretching my arms overhead, I check on Allie in the corner of the study, where she's clicking away on her new laptop, working on the fundraiser brochures she promised Jessie for Polina’s Place.

I'm glad our visit to Dmitri and Aleksei’s non-profit inspired Allie. Anything that makes her smile, while also planting roots in Boston, is a win in my book.

“I've got to meet Luca at the chapel. Is there anything you need before I leave?” I ask, bracing a hand on her shoulder and bending to press a kiss to the top of her head.

I like having her here with me.

These past few days have been filled with comfortable companionship as we concentrated on our separate projects,and there's something to be said for having a beautiful woman close by when it's time for a break.

“No, I'm good.” Allie barely lifts her head as she shifts a paragraph of text across the screen.

“Alright. I'll be back soon.” Noting the time on my watch, I detour to the kitchen on my way to the chapel and ask Mrs. Shandy to drop off a snack for my hardworking girl, before resuming the short trek outside.

Years have passed since my brothers and I were expected to attend lessons in the crumbling chapel, but we still use it for the nastier side of Blackthorn.

Because what’s more blood seeping into the stained stones?They can't get any more tainted. Can't tell the stories of the men who died here.

Speaking of which…

The first thing I see upon entering the chapel is a man tied to a chair at the cracked altar.

“Look familiar?” Luca asks from his lounging position on an old pew. “This man wielded the gun that shot your woman. Meet Richie Castellano.”

Richie’s eye is swollen shut and blood drips from a split lip, but he’s not too fucked-up yet to be unrecognizable. Though he doesn't look as confident as he did hanging out of that van with a gun attached to his arm.

Luca cracks his knuckles, evidence of the punches our captive received written on the reddened skin, and silently nods toward Rafe, who stands with Hugo, Jonah, and Dmitri. The Blackchapel Bastards united for a shared cause—extracting information before exterminating the threat.

“Good work.” I near the soon-to-be-dead man pissing himself in our chapel. Grabbing a patch of sweat-drenched hair, I yank his head back. “You made a grave mistake coming after us. The only question now is how you’ll make up for it. Will you give uswhat we want in exchange for a quick death, or will you drag this out in a show of misguided loyalty?”

“Please… You’ve got the wrong man… I don’t—”

With one powerful jab, my fist crunches through bone and cartilage to stop his blubbering, but then it's his howling cry over a broken nose that irritates my eardrums next.

“Christ!” I wince at the yowls bouncing off the stone walls. Removing a handkerchief from my suit pocket, I scrub Richie's blood away and nod toward Dmitri. “The second option, then.”

As the head of Blackthorn, Dmitri is an expert at making people talk. We all have the skills, but it’s his specialty. He’s capable of keeping a prisoner alive for hours, chipping away at their body and psyche until they break.

It's a marvel.

And a long fucking way to spend the next few hours.

A grimace flattens my lips after another glance at my watch. I’d hoped to return to Allie rather than being stuck dealing with this pissant.

Is it too much to ask for a mafia grunt to spill his guts in exchange for a nice and easy snap of the neck?

Sighing, I roll my shoulders and join Luca on the pew. Sometimes being a Blackchapel Bastard really sucks.

***

“An acquaintance from Mass News emailed to let me know that an investigative journalist is writing an exposé on my dad,” Jonah says around a bite of pizza. “Her name is Valerie Hale.”

Once the mess in the chapel was dealt with, we agreed to a casual meal in the game room and a racing tournament to erase the tension of the day. Allie is firmly positioned on my lap as we devour slices of pepperoni pizza for dinner, and I can't help a swell of smug superiority.

My poor brothers don't get the benefit of a soft woman cozied up in their arms. They don't get to hear her quiet sounds of pleasure from the simple act of feeding her.

Only I get to experience those things.

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