Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I’ve killed women. I’ve beaten women. Am I proud of it? Of course not. But I do what I have to fucking do. My family and my ability as a leader are defined by the choices I make. If I can’t do something, then I cannot expect my men to do it either.
“I don’t like this, Xander. You don’t know if she’s telling the truth or not. She looked pretty fucking scared to just be one of his random whores,” Damon rambles, as he douses the house in gasoline.
“I don’t really care what you think, Damon. I’m taking her. You burn the house down, and that'll be the end of it. Maybe next time, we’ll actually catch him,” I snap, too annoyed to deal with his moral code of bullshit.
I pick up my pace, walking down the hall and away from Damon. If I wanted my brother's input, I would ask for it. My eyes move over the contents of this place. It’s just a fucking mansion, full of valuables.
That only angers me more. He didn’t leave any fucking clues, no papers, not a trace of anything. The only reason we knew he was here was because of a now-dead guard we had tortured the info out of. He’d been a long-time friend of the family and was responsible for disposing of my father’s body, which he clearly didn’t do, since the bastard is still alive.
With my anger threatening to boil to the surface, I tighten my hold on the small body in my arms, drawing a faint whimper from her lips. I look down at her beautiful face, so peaceful looking, now that she is passed out. Her long amber-colored lashes fan against her cheek. There’s a slight bruising below her right eye, the skin black and blue as if she’d been slapped. Something about that angers me as well, and I don't know why. I’ve laid my hands on countless women, and in much worse ways than that, and yet, a slight bruising of this woman’s face has me feeling some strange emotions.
I walk out the front door, down the steps, and into the driveway. The unnamed woman bounces in my arms every step I take, and I hold her tighter. Her head presses against my shoulder like she is leaning into me for comfort, for protection. It awakens an odd feeling inside of me. A feeling that surprisingly tamps my anger down… I don’t like it, but then again, it’s not an unsettling feeling either.
I walk up to the SUV where two of my men are already waiting. They look at the girl in my arms and then back up to me. They know better than to ask questions. I motion for them to open the back door and when they do, I slide into the back seat, still holding her in my arms. I could probably let her go now, place her down on the leather seats, but I like the feeling of her in my arms.
Startled by the thought, I curl my fingers into her skin, feeling the heat. I imagine her whimper in pain as I do, and that thought makes my cock hard.
“Where to?” the driver asks from the front seat, interrupting my thoughts.
“Home.”
He doesn’t hesitate when I answer, and we drive off the property as if we just came for a short visit, instead of a killing spree. I spend the majority of the ride to the mansion looking at her. Studying her features… wondering what she looks like when she smiles.
What a ridiculous thought. Smiling. No one does that in my presence. I try to imagine myself torturing her, breaking her bones, slicing her skin. For the first time ever, the thought revolts me, but I know I don’t have a choice.
I need to protect my family, my son, above all. The things she may know, the secrets, they’re all that matters. Finding my father and killing him, that’s the important thing here, and if torturing her gives me those answers then that’s what I’ll do.
The car comes to a halt, and I am about to ask the driver why the hell we are stopped when I look up and realize we are already home. What the fuck! I must have gotten lost just staring at her like an idiot. I shake my head at my own stupidity. I need to stop this nonsense, and I need to stop it now. There is no room for feelings in my life.
My son. My family, they’re all that matters.
Not some woman my father probably dipped his dick into half a dozen times. She’s nothing, no one, and the sooner I see her as that, the easier this will all be. I get out of the car, with her body still in my arms, and walk up to the front door. One of guards is already holding the door open for me, so I walk in. I head for the staircase leading up to the bedrooms when I stop myself. My feet stop dead in their tracks.