Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Tonight, though, it’s a little different. Tonight, Geno Russo is a blur. Lucien is center stage, looking like he did earlier in the day. And the soldier who cuts my face is the man with the cattle prod.
“You never did know when to keep your mouth shut,” Lucien says.
And then it plays out exactly as it always does. My mother screaming. The bat coming down on my father’s knees. The blade slicing Amadeo’s face. My face.
God. Fuck. I can feel it like it’s real, and I know I’m fucking dreaming it. I know. But by the time I can drag myself out, by the time I open my eyes and bolt upright, I’m covered in sweat.
I take a minute to catch my breath. To look around and know that I’m alone in the bedroom. The curtains are drawn, and it’s dark.
We’re in one of Dominic Benedetti’s penthouses in the city. Not a safehouse per se, but safe all the same because no one would be stupid enough to attack us while we’re under his roof. Lucien Russo doesn’t have that kind of manpower. He’s borrowing it. That much Bruno learned. As much as Lucien Russo wants to be the big man on campus, he’s nothing. He has no soldiers of his own. He hires mercenaries and the problem with mercenaries is their loyalties are fluid at best. They’re always willing to change sides if the terms are better. The guards he’d sent to protect Vittoria during their father’s funeral were easy enough to buy off. None of the men who work for him or those he borrows would lay down their own lives for him.
According to Bruno, these particular soldiers were hired from a local crime organization that typically operates outside of Benedetti territory. One he’s already in debt to. They’re now down a dozen men. I’m guessing that’s going to cost Lucien.
I push the blanket aside, my entire body a dull ache. But the true pain only comes when I put my bandaged feet on the floor and stand. I suck in a breath as I make my way across the room to the bathroom. I need to piss. When I’m back in the bedroom, I’m no longer alone.
“Dandelion.”
Vittoria is standing beside the door. She’s in her bra and panties, which is surprising, considering the soldiers around the penthouse. Her makeup has long since worn off and her hair is stuck to her forehead like it’s wet. She’s also barefoot and just looks out of sorts. A little lost.
“Where are your clothes?” I ask.
She looks down as if just realizing she’s not quite dressed. “I was sleeping.”
“Hm.” I pad across the room and get back into bed. I’m tempted to take the pills the doctor left, but I know they’ll knock me out, and I don’t want that. But just beneath the glass of water is a folded piece of paper. I take it, recognizing my brother’s handwriting.
Bruno and I are going to see Tilbury. Get some rest. I’ll let you know what we find.
I glance at Vittoria and crumple the note. Amadeo and I were supposed to go together, but given what’s happened, I get it. I’d be hobbling along, and Vittoria would be left on her own. Even given the soldiers, one of us needs to stay with her.
“You’re creeping me out a little standing there like a ghost,” I say as I drop the note into the drawer and sit back against the headboard.
“I’m not a ghost,” she says and walks over to the bed. I notice she’s teetering a little, and when she raises her arm, and I see the bottle of whiskey, I can guess why. “Amadeo said you’re not taking the painkillers, so I brought whiskey.”
“Good girl.” I take the whiskey and drink straight from the bottle.
She walks around the bed, lifts the covers, and climbs in to sit beside me. She takes the bottle and drinks from it, then hands it back.
“You okay there, Dandelion?” She looks odd. Like she’s already had some whiskey, for starters, and I’m not sure she can handle a whole lot of it. But more than that, it’s that strange look she gets in her eyes, and it’s coupled with a distance I don’t like. Crazy I can handle. And she is fucking crazy. But that distance is unreachable.
“I heard you curse,” she says.
So I wasn’t quiet. I take in the dampness at her hairline and realize her hair isn’t wet. It’s stuck to sweat.
“I woke you up,” I say.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t want to sleep anyway.”
“Nightmare?”
She bites her lip. “Yes.”
“They’re just dreams, you know. Not real.”
She looks at me curiously. “Does that work for you?”
It’s my turn to shrug my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’ll be fine. The assholes who did this won’t. You should get some sleep.”