Rush and Ruin: A Friends to Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance by Catherine Wiltcher

Author:Catherine Wiltcher [Wiltcher, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-24T23:00:00+00:00

17

EDIER

I’ve recovered most of my composure by the time I reach Red Hook Container Terminal. It’s our product’s main point of entry into the US, not to mention the best place in the city to commit the worst kinds of depravity. The constant cries of the gulls overhead are more than sufficient to drown out the screams of the dying.

Sam greets me at the entrance to the largest warehouse, his dark eyes narrowing when he sees my expression. He’s grown up a lot since Ella’s party in the Hamptons. He’s also gotten himself shot up and loved up. The guy’s a fucking savage, and he’s loyal to me to his own detriment. He’s proved himself repeatedly, and now he’s the sarcastic lynchpin of my entire organization here on the East Coast.

“Knife or gun?” he says, by way of greeting.

“Both.”

He grins wickedly. “I almost feel sorry for the fucker.”

“Don’t.”

He offers me the handle of his Fixed Blade, but I wave it away. The nine-inch hunting knife Santiago gave me is the only one I use these days. Perhaps when I’m carving my initials into El Alquimista’s chest, I’ll finally understand the choice he was talking about that morning, but for now it's a constant reminder of the woman I live, breathe, and kill for. Even if I can’t give her every part of me yet.

My love for Ella has never faltered, never strayed... I may have pushed her away to protect her, but for three years it’s rested clean on my surfaces, while everything else has grown rotten and toxic.

Franco’s suspended from a steel rafter by his wrists, his bare feet barely dusting the dirty concrete. His black T-shirt “The Devil made me do it” is ripped around the neckline from Sam’s manhandling, and his face is bloody and bruised. I take three steps inside the warehouse, remove the gun from my holster, and then I’m blowing both his kneecaps off without hesitating.

“Boom,” mutters Sam, above the screams of our shocked guest. “You’re not fooling around, are you?”

“Not today.”

Sliding off my suit jacket, I chuck it at Gabrio who’s loitering nearby. By now, Franco’s gone limp, his head lolling to the side. He’s quietly sobbing to himself, one terrified eye locked on me as I unbutton the cuffs of my black shirt and roll them up to my elbows.

Look all you want, malparido. In about five minutes I’ll be carving those eyes out of your skull.

“You sure this is the guy who edited the tape?”

Sam nods.

Piece of shit.

Eight months ago, a product problem necessitated a trip back to Colombia. I left Santiago’s men in charge of Ella’s surveillance, along with a couple of my own. For the second time in her short life, she lost her fucking mind and gave them the slip.

An hour later, in a bar in Manhattan, she was getting targeted and roofied. Thirty minutes after that, some Italian called Bardi was taking naked footage of her to blackmail her sister with. He didn’t lay a finger on

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