Page 129 of Brutal Vows
Massimo looks like he’s trying not to swallow his tongue. Ricci looks like he’s trying not to start laughing. The other two Italians look like they’d rather be at home in bed than standing in this dusty, echoing warehouse, watching a woman effortlessly run circles around them.
As for me, I’m simply dazzled.
Looking at her, I say in a husky voice, “Pleased to meet you, gents.”
Her smile could light up an ocean of darkness.
Through clenched teeth, Massimo hisses, “My point is that you were granted a pass for murdering one of our own in cold blood. The least you can do in repayment is be honest with us.”
Reyna’s brilliant smile dies a quick death.
In its place blooms a look of such hot, incoherent rage, I almost drop her hand and start running.
She turns to Massimo and burns him to the ground with her eyes.
“I owe you nothing,” she says in an icy, even voice. “Especially considering you knew exactly what Enzo put me through, and you always looked the other way. If anything, Massimo, you should count your blessings that you’re still here to insult me. Because we both know I could send you to burn in hell with your dead friend without even chipping my nail polish.”
Ricci passes a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
Grinning, Declan tilts back his head and blows a series of perfect smoke rings into the air.
Everybody else just stands there, stunned.
Until one of the Italian soldiers says under his breath, “That bitch needs to be put in her place.”
Scalding heat rushes up my neck and burns my ears. Every hair on my body bristles. I say loudly, “Did you just disrespect my wife?”
When he smirks at me, I pull out my gun and put a bullet in his head.
THIRTY
REY
The gunshot is painfully loud. The soldier’s head jerks back. A perfect hole appears in the center of his forehead at the same time a mess of bloody chunks flies out from the back of his skull.
He drops to his knees and topples over sideways, dead.
Looking at the body, Declan sighs.
Chaos erupts. Soldiers from both sides surge forward, shouting and waving guns. An infuriated Massimo hollers at Quinn. Tomasi and Aldo are frozen in shock, gaping.
Ricci holds up his arms, turns to the Italian soldiers, and thunders over the fray, “Shut the fuck up and put down your weapons!”
There’s a pause in the noise, into which he says in Italian, “Anybody who fires a shot won’t walk out of here alive.”
Throwing hard glances left and right, the muttering soldiers lower their guns.
Declan makes an aggravated motion with his hand to indicate his own soldiers should do the same. They comply instantly, stepping back.
It’s quiet for a moment, except for the sound of Massimo’s heavy breathing.
I turn to look at Quinn standing beside me. His eyes are wild. His face is red. A vein throbs erratically in the side of his neck.
“And you have the nerve to call me a land mine. You explode at the drop of a hat.”
He shoves his gun back into his waistband and pulls me against his side with one arm. Glaring at Massimo, he growls, “Nobody disrespects my girl.”
I am a sick and twisted individual, because this violent display of protectiveness has got me so hot, I want to push him down to the bare concrete and tear off his pants with my teeth.
