Merciless Devil (Sons of Valentino #2) by Kylie Kent

Author:Kylie Kent [Kent, kylie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McCartney Industries Pty Ltd
Published: 2023-01-27T00:00:00+00:00

Let me know when you make it home.

I get a reply instantly.

Rocco:

Sure thing, boss.

I’m tempted to ask how she is but decide against it. I don’t need to ask. I know she’s going to be pissed as all hell.

I walk into the warehouse, whistling the tune of “Red Right Hand” by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, my fists flexing open and closed. I’m pumped to finish what I started before I was called away to get my wife out of fucking enemy territory. Although no one knows she’s my wife, everyone has seen Savvy and me together enough in the press to know she’s important to me. And our enemies aren’t above using her to their advantage. It’d be the last fucking thing they ever did, but that wouldn’t stop the fuckers from trying.

The guy who’s currently on my family’s inventory list is Cillian McGregor, a low-level IRA member. Our boys found him lurking around one of our shipping containers on the port. That being said, he’s too insignificant to be out here working alone. I’ll give the little shit credit. He hasn’t broken yet. He will though; they always do. I just have to find the right method to break him.

He looks up and smiles at me. As much as I want to swing a fist and wipe that smirk off his face, I’ve tried that. It didn’t fucking work. It’s time for a different tactic. Sitting down in the chair opposite him, I take my phone out and call the doc.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Doc, I’m going to need you to meet me at the warehouse with enough bags of plasma to keep a little fucker from bleeding out as I cut his limbs off, one by fucking one.”

“Ah, sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

“You do that. See you when you get here.” I hang up and stare at the little redheaded fucker in front of me. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.” Leaning back in my chair, I tip my head to one of the soldiers, and he brings me a bag of cutting implements, dropping it at my feet. I quickly reach in and find what I’m looking for—the reciprocating saw—before drawing it out. “This is all I’m gonna need.”

“Feck you. Do ya worst. I ain’t tellin’ ya shit,” he spits out between broken teeth.

I gotta admit his accent does bring a smile to my face. Even angry, these idiots have a way of sounding happy. I think it has something to do with their pronunciation of words. I look over to the new guy and ask, “Hey, Christian, how many of them say that?”

“All of ‘em, boss.” Christian smirks.

“And how many of them make it through without giving me what I want,” I continue.

“Not a single fucking one, boss,” Christian confirms.

“That’s right, not a single fucking one.” I push to my feet, placing the saw on the ground in front of me. Then I remove my jacket and set it over the back of the chair before I proceed to roll the sleeves of my dress shirt up to my elbows.

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