Page 28 of Luca
Tyran shrugged. “I thought your car was a bonfire last I saw it.”
A burn traveled through my veins. So I hit him. Hard.
Why in the fuck wait?
Kyran attempted to attack, but I pointed the gun at him. “I wouldn’t if I were you. I’m going to teach you a lesson, but I won’t hesitate to kill you if I have to.”
That was a bold faced lie but they didn’t need to know that. Besides, I had one sin weighing down on me. The death of Margaret’s father.
Kyran put his hands up in the air, but his gaze remained locked on me and his brother. One wrong move and he wouldn’t hesitate to end me.
So I hit him, too. Hard.
His body slumped against the pavement as he lost consciousness. It was safer for him that way.
“You fucking bastard,” Tyran growled.
“Don’t worry, prick. Your time is coming too.”
His teeth clenched, but he didn’t say another word. He wore a darkly entertained expression as he studied me for my weaknesses. I didn’t have many. Aside from his sister. Again, that was on a need to know basis andnobodyneeded to know that.
“Whose idea was it to burn my car?” I demanded to know.
The door of the nightclub opened and with it the blasting music traveled our way.
“Mine,” he gritted.
It was totally not his. The twins could be reckless but not that crazy. Besides, they knew I could start a war for it. Not that I would. I wanted Margaret protected, not in the midst of bloodbath.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Satisfaction filled my chest that he’d protect his sister at all cost.
So instead of beating him up more, I turned to the line of cars. “Which one is yours?”
It took him a second too long to answer. “Aston Martin.”
I grinned. “Ahh, a James Bond fan?”
He didn’t answer. But I did shoot out all his tires and then put a bullet into his windshield.
“Count yourself lucky. Next time it will be your brain.”
Once I married Margaret, family dinners would be joyous affairs.
I could see it already.
ChapterTwelve
MARGARET
Istared out the window, the Atlantic ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. The water was rough, the hurricane out at sea resembling the state of my soul. It was the first week of September and the second hurricane of the month was already at work. Back to back.
While Uncle Jack preferred to stay in the city, my family home was in Long Island. My mother hated visiting Uncle. Oftentimes she even refused to go into the city. Maybe back then she feared running into Uncle. Or maybe Benito, her secret lover.
I’d really like to know what the hell the story was there. Digging through my mother’s things provided no answers. Reading through her journal even less so. There were abbreviations and statements that made no sense throughout her journals.
