I feel softness on my lips and moan out.
Opening my eyes, Luca crouches down next to the sofa. “I’m fixing to head out.”
I stretch my body, my eyesight becoming unblurry from sleep.
“Morning.” He gives me another peck.
“Mmmm.” My hands entrap him, pulling him closer to me. “Don’t leave, not yet; lay with me,” I sleepily tell him.
“Fuck, I wish I could.” He lays his head on my chest as I brush back his dirty blond hair. The smell of his shampoo wafts to me—spearmint and clove.
“When will you be home?”
He tilts his head to look at me. “Before Sunday.” Three days.
“Please be safe, baby.” It comes out as a whisper, scared that if I say it too loudly, the earth will know he’ll soon put himself in danger and won’t bring him back home to me.
“I have to come back home to you, of course, I’ll be safe. I’m not letting you get away that easily,” he jokes with me, but we both know it’s not a joke.
Luca leans over me and deeply kisses me, stealing my breath with it, and I’d let him, just to know he’ll always be mine. Forever mine.
Watching him drive down our gravel driveway, I pray for his safety and anyone else who’s helping him. I pray for his return home to me, in one piece, and my Luca. I watch how I pray these days. God can take it in different ways, or at least I think he could. If I pray to bring Luca home, he could, but Luca could also be missing a limb, or worse. So, I watch the way I word my prayers.
I laugh as I watch Roxy chase his truck, the whole way barking. That girl is a menace.
Chapter Twenty
Luca
I hate Las Vegas, the heat, the dryness, all the different shit that takes place under bright, pretty lights to make the tourists look the other way. Everything here has a price; anything can be bought…. Including me.
Marco Drier is one of those men who thinks money can buy anything. Unfortunately for him, it has bought me and my men.
Marco is a well-known trafficker who likes to partake in all illegal things. And he has messed with the wrong people in recent years, and now his expiration date has arrived. I didn’t ask what he did or why they wanted him dead. Knowing he’s a trafficker of women, I needed no more information. As soon as they wired the money to my offshore account, I was ready.
I look over his file one more time. Memorizing his face. Knowing he’ll be another name I add to my body. Another man who can’t hurt a woman. Another evilness I expelled from this world.
“All is ready, Brother.” Thomas walks to the table, setting down a detonator. Today is a little different. After I take Marco out, they want the house to be demolished as well.
Thomas has already prepped the house, and everything is ready for the push of the button.
Thomas has been in Las Vegas for almost a week. He’s been playing the role of a light company worker to get access to thehouse and the grounds. Thankfully, whoever oversees Marco’s home is stupid. With a flash of his ID, they let Thomas right in.
Taking a deep breath, I hold the little black remote in my hand. To anyone else, it would look like someone's TV remote; to me, I know how much power it holds behind the small red button. I caress it with my finger, the power of a thousand men right in my hands.
“Watch that fucking finger,” Thomas grates to me.
“This one?” I ask while gently rubbing my index finger over it, needing to fuck with him, bringing a semblance of normal to the room.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” He sounds exasperated, which makes it even funnier, before lumbering into the La-Z-Boy across the room.
I smile as I place the detonator in the small, hard case, pocketing it.
Thomas reclines back; his eyes go distant.
“What’s going on?” I call him.
He steeples his fingers. “Ah, nothing,” he lies.
