“You want adventure, Trouble? Let me give it to you.”
With a kiss on my forehead, he licks my mouth and grinds harder. “Say yes,” he commands, like negotiating a business deal during sex is normal. Maybe it is for him.
“Just say yes.” He cradles me to his chest and thrusts deeper, my arousal soaking his suit pants.
“I want,” I pant, clawing at his chest. “One million euros to fund the consultancy I want to start.”
“Is that a yes?” He teases my clit.
Oh, this bastard doesn’t play fair.
Against my better judgment, I shout, “Yes, I’ll help you!” through violent screams.
Benny growls as he spills into the condom. His arms tighten across my shirt. “I accept. You start tonight.”
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 22
Target Practice
Salvatore
“Ithink he’s dead.”
Andrea jumps out of the way before my knife connects with its target. A muffled groan carries over the waves lapping against the boat.
“Not yet,” I say.
Dante is still among the living. He’s only lost consciousness once since I cauterized what’s left of his leg after I cut it off. His eyes roll with the motion of the sea.
Andrea drops next to him for a selfie. “Smile. Here.” He puts his sunglasses on Dante. “We can reenactWeekend at Bernie’sbefore you die.”
Idiot.
“Salvatore…please,” Dante gurgles, in pain from Andrea poking the knife wounds in his chest and legs. “I’ll tell you everything. Just kill me quick.”
“Start talking.” My biceps strain to lift my slow-jigging reel. The lure touching the bottom of the sea flutters through three long pulls that promise sore shoulders in the morning.
Dante shivers. His eyes shift between me and Andrea in our fishing gear. “Tino has a new partner to expand his territory in Sicily.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Don’t know, but he’s not from here. They meet every two weeks at Eden. They were there last week.”
“Why would they need to meet in private?”
“Because Agostino and Nino would never agree to the partnership.” Dante winces. “That’s all I know.”
Trafficking.
In all the years Tino’s father has ruled as don, the Preda have never dabbled in migrant smuggling. Neither does the Scilari. Some honor remains among thieves. If Tino is working around his family with an unknown threat, that’s a problem.
I get a bite on my reel and wind the line. Luiggi steps from the helm to pull in the latest catch he drags onto the boat. Fishing clears my head. It requires patience and strategy to entice prey with the facade of safety.
Dante’s body jerks at the five-pronged trident I send into his chest. Guess his mother isn’t getting milk or her son.
“Want to give a warning next time?” Andrea rolls away from the slumped corpse.
