Emilia: Part 2 (Trassato Crime Family Book 4) by Lisa Cardiff

Author:Lisa Cardiff [Cardiff, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2018-07-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Marcello

It didn’t take long to find Sal. He was in the guest room Emilia had assigned him, leaning against the window, drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle. The sick and twisted side of me was glad he hadn’t left so I could put a period on this bullshit once and for all.

I took an unhurried step in his direction, every cell in my body demanding that I rip his limbs from his body.

Sal flicked a glance in my direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Wrong question.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Marcello,” he spat. “Just say what you came to say and leave me alone.”

Closing in on him, I coiled my hand around his throat and pinned his head against the window. I flexed my muscles, curious how much force it would take to end his miserable life once and for all. I was tempted. So fuckin’ tempted. He may have walked away tonight with the intention of giving up Emilia, but I watched this story play out with Emilia’s mom, and I didn’t want history to repeat itself more than it already had.

His eyes bugged out. I pressed harder, needing to leave him with a reminder of what would happen if he crossed me. He clawed at my hands, his coordination impaired from drinking too much. That was his first mistake. You should never let your guard down when your enemies are near.

His face was turning blue, and I didn’t give a shit. I’d bury his body on the ranch. Nobody would ever find him. He’d become another mafia piece of shit gone missing. The cops never looked too hard for a made member. It was one less man they had to keep tabs on.

Just when I came to peace with the idea of ending his life, he kicked out, catching me hard in the shin. I released his throat and punched him in the face. The sound of bone hitting bone echoed through the room. His body sagged, his chest heaving with the effort to get air in his lungs. Blood dripped from his nose.

“Fuck you, you crazy motherfucker.” Balling his hand into a fist, he charged me.

Did he really think I’d let him lay a single finger on me? At the last second, I darted to the side and shoved him. He collapsed onto his knees, groaning.

Fire still racing like acid through my veins, I crouched next to his head and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him within inches of my face. “Come within ten miles of Emilia again,” I growled, “and I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate exactly how much of a crazy motherfucker I am when someone tries to take what’s mine.”

“Emilia’s too good for you.”

“And your point is?”

“When she finds out what a psychopath you are, she’ll leave your ass…again. And I’ll be there waiting for her with open arms.”

Without even thinking, my fist found his face again. One. Two. Three times. Blood splattered the floor. The metallic scent hung in the air, fogging my brain.

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