Corrupted Protector: Strangers to Lovers Dark Mafia Romance by Kiana Hettinger

Author:Kiana Hettinger [Hettinger, Kiana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Leo

Something wasn’t right.

Looking around, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

The same mix of average and high-end cars in the lot, the same flickering light at the opposite end of the parking garage, the same muted smells of concrete and humid air.

I shook it off and headed for the elevator while Dante and Marco waited for me in the Escalade.

It was probably just remnants of the last time I’d been here, which explained why the sense of wrongness clung to me, prickling at the back of my neck as the elevator glided up to the top floor and opened to an empty hallway.

No longer the cocky kid, I pulled out my Glock as I opened the hotel suite door.

Standing in front of the living room sofa was a black-haired burly goon with a white jagged scar across his neck and arms the size of soccer balls. Seriously, someone could cut them off and have a good old-fashioned game of European football with them.

“I’m not usually opposed to meeting strangers in my hotel room, but you’re not really my type, amico,” I said, my gun aimed between the soccer balls, at the guy’s chest.

He cracked a smile. “Then I guess that means we can skip the foreplay and get down to business.”

Finally! A goon with a sense of humor. They usually just stared straight-faced with their barrel chests thrust out, trying to look intimidating. Hell, even if he was here to kill me, this guy was a breath of fresh air.

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” I quipped because, really, I had no clue what he was doing here.

If he’d come to try to collect Ella, he was a little late. Maybe someone needed to tell him that slow and steady didn’t always win the race.

“You know why I’m here, Signor Luca. Signor Avalone wants Ella, and he said if you were a wise man, you’d hand her back gladly.”

“You see, that’s your first mistake,” I said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I told one of your comrades—right before I killed him—that I was fairly well-known as a dumbass. So, ‘wise man’ isn’t really my thing.” I shrugged.

“You think she’s a poor, innocent victim?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you certain about that?”

I tightened my grip on my Glock.

“She told you Signor Avalone abused her? Beat her, even? That he forced her to offer herself up to the men he chose?”

“Let me guess: You’re going to tell me Avalone was the epitome of gentlemanly behavior?”

The goon laughed. “Signor Avalone never forced the girl to do anything she didn’t want to do. Not that it’s for me to judge, but in my opinion, he always treated her more than fairly.”

It seemed the goon and I put what was fair at grossly different ends of the good-behavior spectrum. “She wears his scars, and scars don’t lie,” I said, shrugging.

He scoffed. “The scars weren’t Signor Avalone’s work. He rescued her from her monster of a foster father—killed him for what he did to the girl.

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