Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Nodding my head I look around me and see all of her tough as shit soldiers covering their mouths slightly and turning their heads discreetly. I can’t help but chuckle. Look at all of us big bad men being brought to our knees by a swift deliverance of justice. Me especially. My father was the death dealer for the DeSantis back in the day. He was the man they sent in when someone needed to be ended but also when a message needed to be sent.
I grew up watching him deal his version of punishment, at my very feet sometimes. I used to wonder, ‘surely they didn’t mean for him to bring it home? ‘Of course now I know different, but as a kid, re-living death over and over, I couldn't help but wonder.
I hear the swoosh of the blade when it moves up into the air and the quiet severance of the bone before it falls and takes its journey. “Shit.” I growl low in my throat.
“Yeah. That takes a little getting used to.” Her husband, Nico says, walking up beside me. I nod my head slightly, keeping my composure.
"You’re late,” Giulia says without turning around. Nico walks over to her, helps her remove her protective gear and wraps his arms around her stomach, proof that she is with child, again.
“I’m sorry my love. The squirrelly fucker was hiding deep.” I turn my head out of respect for their private moment. I admire the love I see between them. I didn’t grow up in a house where love was a staple. Especially not between my father and any of his many women. My mother included. To him, women were expendable and only good for two things: breeding heirs and bending over his bed. Yeah, a real prince charming. Little did I know he had plans for my little sister, Cyn St. Clair. Our name of origin is Santoro, but when my father left his family in Italy he changed it. According to him he wanted to forget the poor existence he was brought up in and blaze a new path. What a crock.
“Alright LB. Thanks for waiting,” she says, turning to address me.
“Boss. What can I do for you?” She tosses a folder at me. I open it while listening to her speak.
“This girl, her name is Satine. She is a Coronado from Cuba.” Fuck. Those pieces of shit. “She was kidnapped by the Popov’s, and it is my thought that she is being trafficked. In that folder, you have an invitation to an auction. My inside guy says if the Popov’s have her, it is likely she will turn up here.”
“Is this what I think it is?” I ask her, picking up the invitation.
“Yes. The disgusting bastards. They hold some sort of sight unseen auction. Basically the only thing the man buying the girl knows are her assets. He doesn’t know what she looks like or anything until he pays for her and retrieves her.” Bile rises in my throat. To women with stars in their eyes this may seem romantic, but to me it speaks of how little consideration they have for the women. Of course they don’t care what she looks like. She is simply an object, a possession for him to do with as he pleases. Anger burns in my gut.
“So I am retrieving the girl and then what?”
“Return her to her family.”
“Those pigs? Quan doesn’t want her?” I mean she is his blood after all. Distant, but his blood, nonetheless.
“He doesn’t have much to do with them. They are distant cousins I guess, but they know nothing of one another. He simply got the call for help.”
“I see. Did they send a photo?” That is the one thing missing from the folder.
“No. Seems Felicisimo doesn’t like photos of his daughter to be public. He simply said her name is Satine, but she can also be called Iza or Belle.”
“Alright. Well I will get started. Any leads on where the auction might be held?” She smiles and shakes her head.
“This is when you get to have fun finding out.” Fuck yes. It means I get to snap a few heads and spill some blood. I crack my neck and shoulders.
“Consider it done, boss.” Let’s go see some pigs about a girl.
Two
Satine
Present Day
Ihave been living in darkness my entire life. Maybe not like this, but still its own form of being kept from the light. My family is very powerful in Cuba and not for good reasons. They are Cosa Nostra as my family says. Others call us the Cartel. I don’t care what you call it, it’s evil.
In my family women are expendable, toys to be played with, possessions to be traded and wombs to breed heirs. Fathers keep their daughters locked up so they remain unspoiled, untouched and untainted so they can be given to a man who can give him more power. That is my fate. Well, it was two weeks ago until men took me from the orchard behind my house, a place that was still supposedly guarded but ironically the security on me that day was nowhere in sight.