Holy shit.
He spoke Italian. What did he say?
The man in front of us was only about five foot six, shorter than me. His face was swollen and sweaty and he wore cheap cologne and a silk shirt. I studied him, and when he turned his head to say something to the waitress who entered, I saw that he was missing an ear. A deep chuckle had me twisting my neck to find a man—a large man—standing about two feet from me.
“Come now, Collin. Let’s keep the tongue cutting to a minimum this evening,” he said, chuckling before sipping his drink.
“Then tell yourdogto get out of my face,” Collin clipped, sending a chill down my spine. He threatened to cut his tongue out…in Italian?I looked back to him; his eyes were focused on the large man. His jaw jumped underneath his pale skin, which made the tattoos on his neck look even more terrifying.
“Lasciateci,” the large man said to his goon.
I watched as Mr. Sweaty left, huffing and puffing.
“Romano sent you again?”
“I came on my own,” Collin answered simply, sounding bored.
“To what do I owe pleasure? Last time, you killed three of my men…anymore on your list,” Large Man drawled.
“Do not test me, Roman,” my demon said, ushering for me to sit back against him. I did what he wanted, keeping up appearances, but I was uncomfortable as hell. How the fuck did Gwen do this?
She shut it off, remember? You don’t know how to do that.
I envied my friend and her ability to shut everything off. All I could do was get into a safe routine and work like a robot day in and day out.
“Who is this?” Large Man's eyes trailed up and down my body shamelessly, the look in his eyes something I was all too familiar with.
I stiffened. Roman was in front of me now, and hesniffedme. “Fuck, she smells sweet.”
Did that motherfucker just—
“Another word, and it will be your tongue, Roman,” Collin said as his fingers continued playing with my hair.
“My apologies, sir,” he rumbled as he looked at me again. A nasty smirk crossed his face as he sat back, and I held his eyes until he decided to look up at the dancing woman.
The evening dagged on from there. Men talked, drank, and smoked. I remained beside Collin as he made conversation, and the funny thing about it was…the men came tohim.
My demon never left his seat.
I began to wonder what the hell we were even doing here until—
“I want to know about the rings,” Collin demanded to no one in particular. One by one the men began to take their seats, watching the hitman with guarded eyes, but I saw the underlying fear within each pair.
The trafficking rings.Holy shit.My stomach twisted.
“That isn’t our business to share. If the boss wants you in on it, he’ll bring you in. You know that.,” Roman said.
Wait—he didn’t know about them?
Haley and I were right.
“He isn’t bringing the right material.” Col waved him off as a waitress handed him a drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him take a sip.
“I suppose you have the right material?” one of the men questioned, puffing on his cigar, regarding my demon through the waves of smoke.
“You're looking at her.”
Fear sunk its claws into me from all sides as a scream lodged itself in my lungs.
