Tears Like Acid (Corsican Crime Lord #3) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Corsican Crime Lord Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
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That’s huge. Did he do it for them or for himself? Did he do it to better their circumstances or to eradicate his shame? I’m leaning toward the latter. As much as I hate him, I can’t help the compassion that flutters in my chest.

“I think we got them all,” Heidi says, carrying the comb to the sink.

I push to my feet. “Thank you, Heidi. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” Because she didn’t have to help me.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Russo,” she replies with a warm smile.

“You can call me Sabella. Mrs. Russo is so formal.”

“Mr. Russo won’t like that.”

“He isn’t here, is he?”

She nods. “Fine, Sabella. If that’s what you prefer.”

After she washes her hands, she disinfects my knee and my feet before applying band-aids despite my protest.

When she’s finished tending to me, I walk her to the door. “Do you think I can have some cleaning products and the use of a washing machine?”

“I can take the sheets with me now.”

“I don’t want to risk spreading this horrible pest. We should seal them in an airtight bag before you transport them.”

“Don’t worry.” She pats my shoulder and says on her way out, “I’ll take care of it.”

I thank her again and close the door. The engine of her car starts up. I walk to the window and watch until the taillights disappear. Silence descends on the house. Clouds obscure the moon. The night seems darker. An owl hoots somewhere.

A shiver crawls through me. I feel too exposed, too alone. With no curtains or blinds in front of the windows, anyone can look in when the lights are on. Angelo took the key he used to unlock the door with him last night. I make a mental note to ask him to make me a copy so that I can at least lock myself in. That’s to say if he gives a damn about my safety. Or if I’ll see him anytime soon. He’ll probably laugh at me, telling me no one but Heidi is going to drive up here. And him. When he needs a fuck.

Unable to shake the feeling that I’m being watched, I switch off the lights and make my way upstairs in the dark. I don’t lie down on the mattress. I sit in the corner with my knees pulled up to my chin. It will be challenging to sleep like this, but I refuse to crawl back onto the infested mattress. I have no way of knowing that the spray was effective.

After a while, the exhaustion of the day wins out and my eyes draw closed. My head nods between my shoulders, jerking me awake. I slide down, trying to make myself more comfortable. That’s when I hear it, the creaking of the door as someone pushes it open. My heart pounds as I prick up my ears, but there’s nothing but silence.

Was it my imagination? Did I dream it? Pushing to my feet, I tiptoe to the door. A click comes from downstairs. My pulse spikes. There’s definitely someone in the house. I dare a peek around the doorframe. In the moonlight that falls through the windows, I can make out the deserted lounge and the front door that stands open.

My heartbeat triples. Whoever slipped into the house must be in the kitchen. What shall I do? How do I defend myself? No one will hear me if I scream for help. I don’t have a weapon. Do I hide in the bedroom and hope the intruder doesn’t come upstairs?

I’m still considering my limited options when a shadow falls over the threshold of the kitchen door. A small, thin child no older than six or seven creeps into the lounge, clutching something under each arm. He looks left and right before sneaking toward the open door.

I’m speechless with surprise. He’s in the middle of the floor before I find my voice.

“Wait. Stop.”

The boy freezes and jerks his face in my direction. For a moment, we only stare at each other, both of us caught off guard. His face is so dirty I can make out the streaks on his cheeks in the pale light of the moon. The objects he carries turn out to be a box of cereal and a carton of milk.

The boy comes to his sense first. He turns on his heel, sprinting for the door.

“No,” I call after him, rushing down the stairs. “Please, wait.”

He charges through the door just as I make it to the bottom of the staircase. By the time I reach the door, he’s already vanished into the night.

Chapter

Six

Angelo

* * *

A knock falls on my study door. Heidi enters without waiting for my reply.

My irritation flares. I haven’t done a stitch of work tonight. Why? Because I can’t focus my mind on anything other than the woman I locked up in an abandoned house. I can’t help but question that decision now that my fury has abated enough to allow rational thoughts. I can’t stop thinking that the isolation can’t be healthy in the long run. The worst by far, however, is how close I am to asking Heidi for news about my wife.


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