Unresolved anger is like cancer. It fucking spreads and destroys everything in its path.
I swing the bat at the fucker’s hip for the fourth time, and he howls with pain.
After posing as a buyer, Dario set up a meeting with this guy. He’s the one who sold Giulio’s information at the blood bank.
“Who the fuck did you give the information to?” I shout, unable to control my rage, as I slam the bat into his lower back.
“Please,” he begs through snot and tears. “Don’t kill me.”
We have him stripped down to his underwear, his body covered in bruises and blood.
Caught in a haze of white-hot wrath, I beat the fuck out of him until I’m breathless, and he’s a whimpering mess at my feet.
My body vibrates from the destructive emotions, and my voice is ice fucking cold as I ask, “Who did you sell the information to?”
“I only have…an email,” he whimpers. “I never…saw the person.”
“Give us the email,” I demand.
He lifts his head and tries to crawl a couple of feet away from me. “It’s on my phone.”
My eyes flick to Emilio, who quickly digs through the man’s clothes. Finding the cell phone, he brings it to me.
There’s no password, and when I go into the emails, I bark, “Which email?”
“The one from zero-three-six-snap,” he answers quickly, terror trembling in his voice.
Finding it, I forward the email to Dario with a request that he trace it.
I toss the device back to Emilio, then glare at the fucker on the floor. With hatred raging in my chest, I repeatedly bring the bat down on the fucker until I’m sure he’s dead.
That’s another one down, Giulio. I’ll find them all.
Dropping the bat to the floor, I mutter, “Clean up the mess.”
Leaving the room, I take the steps down and head to the restroom, where I wash my hands and splash water on my face. When my eyes lock on my reflection in the mirror, all I see is the rage carved into my features. My breaths fall heavy over my lips, and I focus on slowing them down.
After I’m done drying my hands, I go to the office where Elio’s working. He’s been taking care of everything while I’ve been hunting leads.
When I enter the office, Elio’s on a call. I take a seat on the couch, and pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial Dario’s number.
“I just saw the email,” he answers.
I exhale a tired sigh. “It should lead us to whoever set up the deal with Davies.”
“I’ll let you know when I find out anything.”
“Thanks, brother.”
“How are you holding up?” he asks.
I’m not, and I’m getting fucking tired of everyone constantly asking me how I’m doing.
Every lead I chase delivers nothing of substance we can use to find whoever’s behind the trafficking of organs.
Joe, the fucker we caught in the alley, couldn’t get any information, and after his seventy-two hours were up, I had Carlo kill him.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, my tone laced with impatience.
“I got the cameras you asked for. Want to swing by and get them?”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
We end the call, and I listen as Elio negotiates terms for a shipment of Uzis with the Yakuza.
When he finally puts his phone down, he mutters, “Fucking bastards. I’m tired of them always trying to negotiate a discount.”
He looks exhausted.
“Are you okay handling the workload? I can get Carlo to help out.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll manage.”
“Thank you.” My words have his eyes flicking to mine. “I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
Letting out a deep breath, he nods before asking, “Did you get anything from the fucker?”
“An email address. I’ve sent it to Dario.”
The corner of Elio’s mouth lifts. “Good.” His gaze narrows on my face. “What are you doing about the doctor and the Davies family?”
“I’ll deal with them soon.” Climbing to my feet, I leave the office and give Vincenzo and Fabrizio a chin lift so they know we’re heading out.
They’re busy cleaning their guns and quickly assemble the weapons before jogging to catch up with me.
“Where to, boss?” Vincenzo asks.
“Dario’s place.”
I climb into the back of the Bentley and pull my phone from my pocket again. Bringing up the photo I took of Skylar Davies, I stare at the woman.
I haven’t seen her since I left the message in the notepad for her.
As soon as I know which group is behind the trafficking of organs, I’ll kill the doctor. I’m leaving Harlan and his daughter for last.
Especially the daughter.
Honestly, I’m torn between cutting the fucking kidney out of her while she’s conscious or making her suffer for the rest of her life.
I’ve memorized every stand of ginger hair on her head, but I still stare at the photo.
She looks vulnerable and weak. It would be the easiest thing to snap her neck like a twig.
I imagine my fingers wrapping around her throat and squeezing until tears spill down her cheeks.
She’d whimper and beg for mercy.
She’d fucking gasp for air, and I’d show no mercy.
“Boss?” Vincenzo says to get my attention.
I’m so deep in thought I didn’t realize we’re at Dario’s place already.
Shoving the door open, I climb out of the vehicle and stalk to the elevators. I let out a sigh as I step inside, scanning the access card for the penthouse.
I have a key for Dario and Franco’s homes. It’s in case shit goes sideways, and we need to get inside.
The doors slide open, and not seeing Dario in the living room, I head to the kitchen.
“Where are you?” I call out.
“Taking a leak.”
I open the fridge and help myself to a bottle of water. As I take a sip, Dario calls, “Where the fuck did you go?”
I swallow the water, then answer, “Kitchen.”
A few seconds later, he comes in with a small box and sets it down on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
“I got four cameras. Make sure nothing obstructs their view, or we won’t see shit.” He tilts his head. “Maybe I should plant them.”
“No. I’ll do it.”
I take a look at the cameras lying on a bed of bubble wrap. They’re no bigger than a button. There are also double-sided adhesive pads.
When I pick up the sheet, I ask, “Will this work?”
“It’s either that or you take a glue gun. Those will work just fine, though.”
“They better,” I mutter.
“Ungrateful ass.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, and it has Dario smiling as if a miracle just happened.
“Need anything else?” he asks.
“Not that I can think of. I’ll be in touch.” Taking the box, I head toward the elevator.
“My ballet company is performing this weekend. Want to come to a show?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Opera and tutus are your thing, brother.” Stepping into the elevator, I shake my head. “You’re the only one who likes that shit.”
“I’m the only one with taste,” he shouts before the doors shut.
There’s an actual smile on my face for the first time in two weeks, but it quickly fades when I think about breaking into Harlan Davies’ house so I can plant the cameras.
I want to see every move Skylar makes.
After using a wireless alarm jammer that cost way too fucking much, I enter the mansion through one of the windows.
When my feet touch the tiles, I glance around and find myself in the dining room.
With my eyes already used to the dark, I move to the doorway and search the wide open space of the foyer for movement before I creep toward the left, where I find the kitchen.
Glancing around, I decide to stick the tiny camera near the vent, figuring it’s not something they’ll look at often.
Not making a fucking sound, I use one of the stools by the island to climb onto so I can reach the vent, and when I’m done, I quickly move the stool back into place before sneaking out of the kitchen.
One down. Three to go.
I find the living room and hide a camera by the TV stand, and heading upstairs, I’m on high alert.
Not sure which bedroom belongs to Skylar, I carefully check through the rooms until I find hers.
I only spare the sleeping woman a glance before I quickly find a spot by her dressing table to plant the camera. When I turn around, my eyes land on the bed where Skylar’s kicked off her covers. Slowly, I move closer and stare at her right side, where the T-shirt has ridden up.
Seeing the bandage, a growl almost escapes me, and I have to fight the urge to rip the fucking bandage off and dig Giulio’s kidney from her body with my bare hands.
“Your time will come, and I’ll show you the same mercy Giulio received when they fucking butchered him,” I whisper, a world of vengeance coating my voice.
The woman stirs and mumbles sleepily, “Huh?”
Creeping out of her bedroom, I head back to the staircase, where I hide the last of the cameras before getting my ass out of the mansion.
When I make it back to the Bentley without being caught, I find Vincenzo chewing on his thumb nail.
When he sees me, he complains, “My heart can’t handle this shit. Next time, I’ll go in.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I order while climbing into the vehicle.
As we drive away from the mansion, the corner of my mouth lifts.
Now I can watch every little movement my prey makes.
