Page 73 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
That particular hitman’s dead now, but unease turns my stomach.
It’s followed by something like admiration.
The boards on the Dark Web are used by some crime families to help with their big, or more difficult, problems. Someone who is a little computer savvy will use them to find solutions and post things, very carefully, and those in the know, other criminals, hitmen, mercenary types, the strictly for money professionals, will take up the jobs.
After all, always better to have something done by a stranger when it comes to someone you know.
We don’t do that.
The bigger families don’t.
Many of the cartels don’t trust outsiders, either.
But weaker families, other criminal enclaves, those looking for a way up the ladder, they are all over those boards. They think it’ll buy them strength and power.
And these days, there really is a market for everything.
What the fuck if someone else wants to take Harry out?
Is she that much of a cog?
Or am I worrying about her particular choice of work because it carries danger?
The ambush tonight doesn’t fit with a precision hit.
What if it has to do with why her family was ordered dead?
I’d ask Mam but she doesn’t know those answers. I need to set up a program to track all mentions of the Federici family, along with the Ricco and the Rao families. I want arrests, known business dealings, everything to see if I can uncover why the Rao bastards wanted to wipe out one family who wanted to get out of the game.
Getting out or running?
I don’t know.
Another failure to add to my fucking list.
I save all the info I found, pull out the drive, then turn off the computer. I may be digging too deep into the wrong holes, but I need to find all the wrong paths so the right one lights up.
I take my drink, unbuttoning my vest as I return to the bedroom.
Harry’s full of lustful hate as she looks at me, pupils slightly blown. She’s shaking all over, and I wrap my hands in her hair, lifting her partway up. Those gorgeous tits are now topped with rock-hard nipples I want to suck.
I lower her back down and stroke a finger along her slit, wondering if the turn-on from being bound and left got to be too much for her. She’s so fucking wet, and I wonder if she came even though I ordered her not to. Real discipline with orgasms is something learned, but most of the fun for me is the sub trying and failing to resist.
I push a finger into her tight heat and say, “You’ve gone and made a mess. The sheets are wet. So, tell me, Harry, what the fuck am I supposed to do with you now?”
A mewl slips from her lips.
“Punishment? I have a whip here. Or maybe I should just fuck you senseless. What do you think?”
SIXTEEN
harry
I don’t wantto beg. I don’t.
And I don’t want to beghim.
But how can I not? I’m burning up for his touch, craving it like an addict.
