Page 89 of Dirty Mafia Torment
Well, fuck.
“You’re lucky I don’t put another bullet in you. It’s what you deserve.” Her body vibrates with outrage, and in some broken, messed-up way, it keeps me conscious.
I’ll take outrage over absence.
We pass a few patrons, but the club is relatively empty. My gut twists, dread gnawing at the edges of my awareness.
How long have I been here?
I’ve lost track of time.
I reek of sweat, sex, and shame.
My foot catches on a crack in the floor, and we stumble. “God, how can someone so weak be this strong?”
Weak. Fucking hell. And exposed. Like a lamb headed to slaughter if anyone decides I’m not worth saving. If my enemies decide I’m worth killing.
Every step is agony. Muscles screaming, head throbbing, lungs too tight in my chest. And the worst part? The craving stirs, sickening and cruel.
“Motherfucking doctor,” I grind out, my voice hoarse.
“What did you say?” Fina demands.
I grit my teeth, the effort making my jaw ache. I fucked up and am now fucked up. “Going to shove his freaking stethoscope up where the sun doesn’t shine,” I mutter.
“You’re mumbling. But if you’re asking me to let you go, the answer’s no.”
We exit the kink club through the back.
I’m shoved into the back of the Uber. The door slams. She crawls over me to the far side, like she can’t stand to touch me any longer than necessary.
She doesn’t tell me where we’re going.
I don’t ask. I just look at her.
Stiff-backed, jaw clenched, but breathing fire. A vision so beautiful, it makes every hurt feel like it can’t compete.
So much to say. So much past to make up for. My voice rasps like sandpaper against my throat. “Fina, Fina, Fina.”
Her temper flares. “Don’t Fina me, asshole.”
The words cut, but I deserve them. All of them.
I close my eyes, rest my head against the seat, and make a vow.
I’ve disappointed her for the last time.
Whatever it takes, even if it breaks me.
It won’t happen again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
RENZO
I groanand try to move. But meet resistance.
What the hell?
