Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“It will change everything. Your whole life.”
She leans back in my arms, staring firmly at me. “That’s more reason for me to know.”
She looks so beautiful with that determined, stubborn expression on her face, her eyebrows knitted. I can’t fight the urge to lean in for a kiss, but she turns away from me. My lips come to rest against her cheek.
“No kissing until the truth,” she says, her breath catching.
“We’ve already broken that rule.”
She grabs my shirt tightly as she stares up into my eyes. “No, I mean it. Dad’s missing. My world’s falling apart. I’ve already lost one parent. Tell me.”
With a sigh, I stand and stare out the window. It’s like I’m looking into the past, into all the pain and rage from long ago. I never guessed I’d be explaining this to Isla’s daughter one day. I’m sorry, Cameron. She has to know.
“Your mom wasn’t killed in a hit-and-run,” I say.
She gasps, “Look at me.”
I turn. Her hands are clasped in front of her so tightly that her knuckles turn white. I wish there was a way I could shield her from this.
I could become the savage I was when she first interviewed, drag her into the bedroom, and tell her she has to do what she’s told. That includes keeping questions to herself, but there’s too much tragedy in her eyes. It tugs at something in my heart, a place I never knew existed before I laid eyes on Bonnie.
“Say that again,” she demands, her voice rising.
I approach her slowly, but she backs away, shaking her head.
“She wasn’t killed in a hit-and-run,” I say.
“Then h-how?” she stutters.
I want to hold her so badly it hurts, to take some of this pain from her, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to be touched.
“There was an Italian. He’s the father of a man called Enzo—a wild dog in the current Italian mob. His father was called Francesco.”
“Okay…”
She can’t keep the tremor out of her voice. My heart tugs again, drawing my mind to the future, to standing beneath the altar with the knowledge I can keep her safe forever. She never has to experience agony like this.
I’ll hurt anybody who tries to make her suffer.
“Your dad isn’t going to be happy I’m te—”
Telling you this, I was going to say, but then she yells over me.
“I don’t give a crap. You’ve told me too much not to tell me everything.”
She’s right. I’ve gone too far.
“I grew up with your dad,” I go on, knowing I’m betraying my onetime best friend, but also knowing I can’t leave Bonnie with half the story, “and Isla. We were friends as teenagers. I joined the Kilts growing up, though they weren’t called that then. They were a loose collection of criminals. Your dad had a home and parents. So did Isla, but I had nothing.”
“Nothing?” she whispers.
I wave a hand. “My parents were killed when I was a kid. It’s not part of this story.”
“Killed?” She walks slowly toward me, gently taking my hands. “What happened?”
“A home invasion,” I murmur, the memories more potent than usual, probably because of my woman’s closeness. “It went wrong… for him and my parents. My dad fought back, wounding the guy. He bled out, but so did my parents.”
“Oh, Blake…”
“It’s fine,” I say.
“You don’t have to act so toughly. I can see you’re hurting.”
I hold her hands tightly.
“The point is,” I go on, “I was drawn to the life, but your dad disapproved. So did Isla, but we stayed friends. Then, one day, we were at a mafia party. Your parents were never part of the life, but they sometimes attended these with me. Francesco saw Isla. He decided he wanted her.”
“Wanted her?” she whispers.
I stare into my woman’s eyes. She gets the point. He wanted to use her, to make her his.
Like me with Bonnie?
No, no.
The difference is I’d never do what Francesco did. He was a monster.
“When she told him she had a boyfriend, he took it as an insult, a sign she was trying to humiliate him. He found her. He-he did things to her, Bonnie. I can’t be specific.”
“Evil things?” she whispers, tears flowing silently down her cheeks.
“The worst,” I say gruffly. “Then, when he was done with her, he killed her and bragged about it. I told your dad we couldn’t let this stand. I told him we had to end this scumbag’s life.”
“Good,” Bonnie says fiercely.
“You approve?”
She nods, more tears sliding down her face. “If he did that to Mom, he deserves everything he got.”
“Your dad disagreed,” I say.
“Really?”
“He wanted me to go to the police. He wanted to do it the so-called right way, but back then, the Italians owned the cops. I knew there would be no justice. So, against your dad’s wishes, I took it into my own hands. I killed that bastard myself, and that’s what led to my rise to become the leader. It started a war. I took charge, and your dad vowed never to speak to me again.”