Page 38 of Hot-Blooded Killer

Our two best men, Dominic and Vic, are in New York with Max and Val. We have plenty more, of course, but none I trust as much as those two.

I had hoped to put this confrontation off a bit longer.

Okay—to be honest, I’ve been burying my head in those desert sands, hoping I could hide from reality a bit longer.

I just didn’t expect that reality to include Edoardo Rossi double-crossing me. And worse, double-crossing his own daughter.

Does Gia know anything about this plan?

The thought makes me sit up straight.

I want to believe she doesn’t.

But she is a Rossi.

This time, I say it aloud, and then again for emphasis. “Fuck.Fuck.”

I can’t get anything done here.

Not that I’ve been terribly useful at the clubs at all in the two days since my wedding.

My concentration is shot. I’ve been useless the last two days at work. I can’t think of anything except Gia.

My plan to exorcize my lust for her by making her mine is failing miserably. It’s all I can do not to take her in my arms every time I see her. Hell, I’d had to leave our bed this morning to keep myself from fucking her awake.

On second thought, maybe I should have done exactly that.

I don’t know how I’m going to go through with my plan to destroy her and send her back to her father.

I’m beginning to think maybe I won’t.

A new plan is beginning to form, though, one that might be almost as effective.

After all, losing his favorite daughter to the Beneventis will make Edoardo Rossi miserable, too, right?

I’m guessing he plans to knock me off and present Gia to El Toro.

I will not allow that to happen.

I need to find something else to do.

Something that might allow me to get a head start on the men El Toro is sending to Vegas.

With a final curse, I push my office chair back and head toward the exit, swiping my phone off the desk as I go.

* * *

As Rossi’s brand-new son-in-law,I am, if not exactly welcome, not precisely unwelcome in his home, either. His staff meets me at the door, inviting me in and showing me to his office.

But it doesn’t take long for his people to let me know Edoardo is not in. They send in the closest thing he has to a capo now that Gia is out of the house—her cousin Giovanni, who tries to get me to explain why I’m there. But as soon as I realize Giovanni’s uncle isn’t in, I leave again.

I spend the next two hours stalking through Edoardo Rossi’s favorite haunts, pausing to chat with acquaintances and trying to find out what rumors might be going around about El Toro’s men.

Unfortunately, what I initially discover is that I’m the primary topic of gossip at the moment.

As I watch the end of a poker game that’s already been running for hours, Nico DeSantis slides up next to me at the same casino where I won Gia in the first place. He hands me a bourbon, then clinks his own bourbon glass against mine and downs the shot.

“Congrats on your wedding,” he says. “No one saw that coming.”

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