Page 39 of Craving Danger

Then again, I just spent ten minutes alone in a car with a man who’s a virtual stranger to me.

Which means I feel safe with him.

Right?

I spit out the toothpaste and rinse my mouth before I head into my bedroom. Pulling the covers back, I look down at the bed and wonder whether I’ve made any progress at all.

Maybe the sense of security I get at the club is keeping me from freaking out.

Shit.

The thought crosses my mind to ask my mystery man to meet me at my apartment for the next meeting, but I banish the idea before it has a chance to take root.

Letting out a huff, I climb under the covers and punch my pillow.

I need to sleep now. I’ll worry about this tomorrow.

Franco

When I walk into Renzo’s penthouse, it’s to see Domiano, Angelo, and Dario already seated in the living room.

Everyone has a grim expression on their face, and the air is tense with anger.

That’s how the Cosa Nostra works. If you attack one of the five heads, you have to deal with all of us.

I head straight to the liquor cabinet to pour myself a tumbler of whiskey.

“What took you so long?” Renzo asks.

“I had to drop my PA off at home.” Taking a sip of the whiskey, I turn around and see everyone’s watching me.

“Jesus, did you make her work until midnight?” Dario asks, not looking impressed with me. “No wonder your assistants never last longer than three months.”

“No, I didn’t make her work until midnight,” I mutter.

Everyone’s eyebrows fly into their hairlines, and I let out a sigh. “No, I’m not fucking my PA. Can we stop talking about her and focus on the problem?”

When I take a seat, Renzo passes his phone to me. “Look at the photos.”

I scroll through them, and seeing that Steve’s eyes are gouged out, and his body is positioned the same as Christ’s was when he was crucified, I’m filled with rage.

It’s a brutal way to die. I’ll make the fuckers pay for what they did to Steve.

“I think it’s safe to say whoever ambushed the truck is trying to send us a message,” Renzo says.

“Do you think it’s because of the route the truck was on or because they were after the weapons?” Angelo asks.

I let out a sigh. “Seeing as they emptied the truck, they were probably after the submachine guns.”

“Fuckers,” Renzo growls. “That was an important shipment.”

“I’ll check with my contact in Paraguay. I might be able to arrange a shipment of Heckler & Kochs,” Damiano says.

Renzo gives him a grateful smile. “That will help a lot, brother.”

“So what are we going to do about this?” Dario asks.

I shake my head. “We have to find out who’s behind the attack.”

---