Page 48 of Hot-Blooded Killer

That’s when Gia makes her move.

El Toro’s man has made the mistake of thinking that because she’s small, Gia will be easy to control. But my wife is muscular and strong. And she uses that strength against him, leaning forward a few inches, then slamming her entire body into his, her back connecting with his chest and stomach with a resounding thump. It breaks his hold on her just long enough for her to throw herself down to the ground, where she grabs the gun.

As soon as she moves, I dive across the room, swiping the box off the shelf and ducking down behind a nearby leather chair. I fumble the gun out of the case, praying it’s already loaded, and rise from behind the chair, using it as cover.

Gia is still on the floor, but she’s wrapped her legs around the Colombian’s, keeping him from moving more than a step or two, and she has my Glock pointed directly at his crotch. He, in turn, has taken aim at her, as well.

Edoardo is cowering behind his desk.

“Drop the gun, or I shoot your bride,” the Colombian says.

“Let her go, or I’ll shoot you,” I counter.

Gia doesn’t bother to say anything at all.

She simply fires.

The gunshot echoes through the room, mingling with the Colombian’s scream—but that’s cut short as I take aim and fire, as well, dropping him with a bullet to the head.

Gia scrambles to her feet, looking down at her blood-soaked clothes with a grimace. She stalks over to her father’s desk, sets the gun down on top of it, and leans over to speak to him where he still hunkers next to the chair. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she announces. “And then I’m going to leave this house, and I don’t ever want to see you again.” She straightens her shoulders and turns to face me. “If you’re interested,” she says to me, her voice calm and sure, “I would like to start over. Just us. No contract, no agreements, no payments. Just the two of us. Together.”

I step toward her, ready to take her into my arms, but she holds up her hands in a warding motion and moves away from me. “Just a yes or no right now. We can seal the whole thing with a kiss after I get cleaned up.”

“There’s nothing I would like more,” I tell her, grinning widely.

I gesture around the study with the gun, pointing at the dead body still oozing blood on the floor. “This is your mess to clean up, Edoardo.”

He frowns and turns to Gia.

But my wife shakes her head before he has a chance to speak. “No. You are never again going to use me, Pop. I’m done being your pawn. And I’m done with you.”

I watch her leave the room, stepping lightly around the Colombian’s lifeless body as she goes. Then I turn to face Edoardo, who finally stands up.

“You should know,” I say conversationally, “that I’m going to make sure El Toro finds out exactly what happened here. And all the rest of the connected families in Vegas and beyond, as well. They’ll all know you made promises you can’t keep. You’re finished. And I don’t really expect you to live all that much longer.” I pause, considering my next words. “I’m also going to let it be known that Gia’s mother and sisters are under Beneventi protection. Feel free to send them to our house—we’ll take care of them. But Gia’s right. You are not welcome.”

I pick up my Glock from the desk and tuck it back into my waistband, and I take the gun I used to shoot the Colombian with me, as well.

And then I go to the foyer to wait for my bride.

It’s time for us to go home and start our new lives together.

And somehow, after tonight, I suspect that she’ll be instrumental in helping me enact my revenge on El Toro and Los Kappas.

I cannot wait to get to know my wife.

Intimately.

CHAPTER21

GIA

We slam into each other before we are even all the way inside our part of the Beneventi mansion, our mouths and hands desperate for one another as we stumble into our suite.

Lorenzo reaches around me to shut the door, and then pushes me up against it. His hot lips sear my mouth as his tongue flicks into mine, seeking out the most sensitive spots so that I shiver against him.

Slipping his hands down my back, he reaches the top of my thighs and lifts me up, sliding my back up the door at the same time that he kisses down my neck and in between my breasts. I wrap my legs around him, the Dolce & Gabbana jeans I wear a barrier between us, but no obstacle for me to feel the hot thickness of him pressed against me. I whimper, pulling my legs tighter around him and crossing them behind his waist.

“Too many clothes,” he mutters.

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