When Kevin falls flat on his back, I crouch over him. Gripping his neck, my thumb digs into his Adam’s apple, while I continue to beat the fuck out of him.
Memories of Sienna smiling and laughing in my arms flash before my eyes while I take all my frustration and anger out on the Irishman.
“He’s dead, boss,” Nico says, and I slam my knuckles into the fucker’s crushed cheekbone before I climb to my feet.
My right hand pulses with pain, and the torn skin over my knuckles stings.
Nico tosses me a bottle of water, which I catch mid-air. I stare at the body that’s covered in fresh bruises and blood while taking a few sips. As I pour some water over my hand to rinse it, I order, “Drop the fucker off at the docks.”
While I walk to where my shirt is draped over the back of a chair, I hear Nico instruct two soldiers to get rid of the body.
I grab the black T-shirt and pull it over my head. My phone begins to ring, and my eyes flick to the table it’s lying on. Seeing Enzo’s name, I pick up the device and swipe over the screen before barking, “What?”
“Where the fuck are you?” my brother asks.
“At the warehouse.”
“What is so important that you’re there instead of getting ready for the wedding that’s in forty minutes?”
The meager relief I got from killing the mobster vanishes, and incessant rage floods me. I clench my jaw because even though I struggle to control my temper, I try not to take it out on my family.
My tone is harsh as I reply, “I’ll meet you all at the church.”
“Okay. Don’t be late.”
After I end the call, I pick up my gun from the table and shove it into the waistband of my pants while I walk toward the SUV parked right outside the warehouse where I like to kill my enemies.
I don’t have to tell Nico where we’re going, and the ride home is silent. Over the past seven years, Nico has learned to read me like a book. He’s become an extension of me, like Uncle Carlo is to Dad.
Honestly, if it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead by now. The man has taken four bullets for me and saved my ass countless times.
I’ll see Sienna within the next hour.
The thought shudders through me, and even though so much time has passed, I can’t keep myself from praying for a miracle.
The only reason I’m still a functioning human being is that she hasn’t tried to date anyone else.
I don’t care that she’s trying to keep me at a distance. She’s still mine.
After Nico parks the SUV in the reserved spot, I shove the door open and get out. With Nico by my side, I walk to the elevator. He scans the access card and accompanies me up to my penthouse.
“I’ll lay out your tuxedo,” he says as we walk into the foyer.
I head straight for the bathroom, and while I strip out of my clothes, my thoughts revolve around Sienna.
I still don’t know why she ended things between us. I’ve asked her many times over the past seven years. After she broke things off, I threw myself into my work and kept busy while I gave her the time she needed.
But one year became two, and two became four. Years five and six broke me, and over the past twelve months, I’ve embraced the pain and rage.
Stepping into the shower, I open the faucets, and as the cold spray hits me, goose bumps spread over my body.
I’ve only seen Sienna four times this year, and every single time it was fucking unbearable walking away from her.
I go through the motions of showering, and once I’m done, I dry off.
Nico comes in with a first aid kit, and while he tends to my busted knuckles, he says, “You should really consider wearing gloves.”
“I like feeling their blood on my skin.”
