Page 88 of PortCity Killers

??T H I R T Y??

“What the fuck.”

Metal clanged against metal as Don’s imposing form stormed inside the small cell. His bare feet shocked me out of my directionless blubbering. His knees hit the ground with a thud as he pulled at my shirt, cursing and yelling at Valentina in alternating Italian and Spanish.

He ripped the buttons, clawing my shirt up my stomach, pulling, and grabbing at my hips. He wiped at the blood staining my belly as he did. When he didn’t find any puncture wounds his fingers probed at the cuts he could see.

His eyes hardened, stopping at the red, angry rings I imagined were cutting across my throat. His cheeks were pale; the skin on his face taught and ashen in a way that was frightening.

When he was satisfied he had checked every nook and cranny on me and still hadn’t found anything other than the man’s blood as he half dragged, half carried me out of the cell and up the stairs.

The night air was cold against me, blood sticking and drying uncomfortably to my skin. His shirt, what was left of it, was stiff. I wanted nothing more than to get it off of me, but I kept my mouth shut, not willing to be the one to break the silence when the air around Don felt like it was vibrating with malice.

However, Valentina had no such qualms apparently. She popped off like a hand grenade, spouting words I couldn’t keep track of, even if they had been in English, I doubted I would have been able to keep up with the conversation as it was.

Don opened the door next to mine, pushing me into the bathroom of his own room where he set me unceremoniously into a wide, dark wooded shower. He flipped the water on, the cold hitting my lungs, squeezing them tight.

I gasped, shaking under the spray but heedless of my shivers Don clinically and effectively scrubbed me down from head to toe. His hands shook, ever so slightly as he gripped me to him, but that, along with the hard line of his jaw were the only things making his feelings known.

Just before I thought I couldn’t take the cold anymore he stood, his clothing drenched, and shut off the water behind me. His pants were soaked through, his chest bare and flexing as he moved around the bathroom.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

It was about the thousandth time Don had asked that question but each time he did, he answered it with his own round of insults. Thankfully for me they were all in either Spanish or Italian, so I didn’t know the entire extent of how stupid he thought we were.

Unfortunately for Valentina, who spoke both, she knew exactly what he thought of us. I would say based on the bickering back and forth, he was hardly impressed with her and vice versa.

Don turned to a massive tub, adjusting the nozzles and filling it. Steam rose from the water, beckoning me to join it. Instead, I sat dutifully on the side where Don had set me letting the full effect of the night sink into me.

I didn’t argue with him when he told me to get in, holding his hand out for me to walk myself down the tiny steps.

Since I no longer had a shirt and all semblance of modesty had apparently flown out the window with my killing card, I stepped into the hot bath Don had drawn for me relishing in the sharp sting that soaked into my worn muscles. The sigh that left me was full and haunting, creeping out from my body like it had been hiding there for years.

My body had never been more sore. Not when I got my ass handed to me on the daily growing up, not after any of my training sessions with Bryce and the guys—never. I wouldn’t say I bruised easily, but looking at my skin now, you’d have thought I had put myself through a car wash sans car. I certainly felt like I had been whirlpooled around and hung up to dry.

“That was stupid,” Don said, finally steering back to English. His hand dipped into the water, running the washcloth he had so ungraciously thrown in there.

I opened my mouth, but Valentina spoke before me, “You would have had her do it anyway. Better for her to get it done and over with than wait on it.”

He slammed his hand on the wood next to me, making me jump as he shouted, “You could have gotten her killed, Valentina.”

“But I didn’t,” she shrugged from her perch on the bathroom counter. She still had blood all over her from holding me, but it was only centered on one side of her robe. I could see the glint from her dagger’s handle, sheathed back on her thigh as she crossed her legs one over the other.

Don did not appreciate the nonchalance with which she spoke of my life, and he let that be known in every growl of his words, “She is not a toy for you to play with her life in such ways, Val. She means something to both of us, and if you’re too stubborn to see that-”

“She’s fine, and I knew she would be. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her.”

“We’re supposed to be a team.” He snapped.

His hands ran up and down my spine, trembling, though his voice was sure and strong in its anger. I shivered at the contact, curling myself into the corner of his bath, soaking all the warmth I could. He sat on the wooden edge absentmindedly washing me.

“We are a team, but this is the same way our father taught us to protect ourselves.” She crossed her hands over her chest, “The man was chained up for heaven’s sake, we didn’t even get that.”

“We are not Lexi. We were raised Giovenni. You can’t just throw her into the fire and expect her not to get burned. She needs to be eased into things.”

“She’s not a delicate creature to be locked away! And that is exactly what you would have her become.”

“Tell me this wasn’t about your fucking obsession with proving yourself to be man enough, Valentina—tell me it isn’t.”

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