Page 36 of Ruthless King
Another tremor surges across my body at the violence in his tone. I’m tempted to remind him that I don’t actually belong to him, but the scolding dies on my tongue.
Luca’s arm snakes around my shoulders, the other beneath my thighs. I gasp as he lifts me off the ground and cradles me against his chest. His warmth seeps into me, immediately stilling the ragged thrumming of my heart. He winces slightly and shifts to carry the bulk of my weight on his uninjured side, making it seem effortless.
“I can walk, you know,” I mutter half-heartedly.
“I know. That doesn’t mean you should.”
That spicy pepper, musky scent envelops me, and an odd sense of home warms my insides. I haven’t felt anything like it in years, not since Mom and Vinny …. The hint of a memory stirs, but the images are too fleeting to grasp. I blindly clutch at my chest, fingers drawing a circle over the inked hearts. June fifteenth. Two years apart, but I lost them both on the same damned day.
“Relax, I’ve got you, princess.”
“What about the police?” I mumble.
“No police. I’ll take care of this myself.”
Luca’s long strides lull me with their steady rhythm. I’m suddenly so tired, my eyelids so heavy, they begin to droop. A scruffy chin tickles my cheek, then soft lips press against my forehead, or at least I think they do. But I must have imagined it, because why would the infamous Luca Valentino kiss me?
CHAPTER17
I STOP BREATHING
Luca
Blinding fury races through my veins as my eyes lock on the asshole cuffed to the chair. The man who dared touch what is mine. My entire body trembles with rage, the feeling so intense, so out of control, I force a drag of air into my lungs before I proceed. Control. My life, both business and personal, is all about control. A few days with Stella and I’m spiraling.
When Mario texted me about the robber, I’d raced right out of my meeting with the city commissioner. The meeting I’d been waiting for all month. Getting in his good graces was integral to my shipping operations, both legitimate and not.
Tony and Mickey loom in the shadows, guns cocked and ready. It’s been years since I’ve involved myself in this aspect of the business. But today, this is personal. I would make this motherfucker pay for pointing a gun at Stella, the knot on her head, for that bruise on her cheek. He’d drawn blood and broken skin, and now I’d break him.
I shrug out of my jacket, slowly, purposefully and toss it on a chair. I stalk across the room, dark gaze fixed on the trembling idiot. He’s gagged but not blindfolded. I want him to see exactly what’s coming. To know the fear intimately, until it strangles, suffocating.
I stop right in front of him, my legs nearly hitting his knees, and roll up my sleeves. Deliberately. Methodically. His eyes bulge and sweat beads off his brow. He mumbles something, but I ignore him, carefully folding my sleeves and tucking in my favorite cufflinks with the gilded crowns.
Then I pull my arm back and release. My fist smashes into his cheek, the crack of bone against bone reverberating across the silent space.Dio, that felt good, and I am just getting started. “That was for her cheek.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the gold-plated brass knuckles. They were custom-made in the shape of a crown, each circle adorned with a pointy tip. The man’s trembling becomes more violent as I slip it over my fingers.
I hit him again. Anger pours out of me, much like the blood from his mouth. “That was for the bump on her head.”
He wiggles and squirms, blood dribbling from his chin and perspiration pouring down his forehead, into his eyes. He mumbles again, and a wicked grin slants my lips. “I’m sorry I’m having a hard time understanding you.” I pivot to Tony. “Knife, please.”
Thebastardo’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “No, no!” he mutters.
Tony tosses me the blade which I catch by the hilt with the honed precision of a ninja. I spin it around in my hand, reveling in the familiarity of the worn wood. When I was a young, little thug, I used to carry this thing with me everywhere. I thought I was tough shit. Me and Vinny ….
The dark thoughts threaten to pull me under, but I focus my rage on the man before me. Thestronzowho hurt her. I inch closer, glimmering blade pointed at the guy’s face. He tilts his head back, but he’s got nowhere to go. He’s trapped.
I slice the blade across the gag, and his scream echoes through the dim chamber. I barely nicked him. Coward. Most men who attack women are. They’re the scum of the earth in my book.
“What’s your name, piece of shit?” I snarl.
Tony opens his mouth, but I wave him off. I want this man to talk to me and only me.
“Sean,” he chokes out.
“You got a last name, Sean?”
“O’Malley.”
