Page 124 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“Not this time. He won’t see me comingat all.”

“What the hell do you expect to do when you find Dominguez?” Conor demands when we’re in his car minutes later.

“I’m going to kill him,” I reply in a calm voice.

“The fuck you are!” he yells. “This is my beef, not yours! I’m gonna finish him!”

“It became my beef when he sent his men after me.” I turn and glare at Conor. “It became my fight when he almost took my husband’s life. And now Matteo still might die, so yeah, my beef takes fucking priority here.”

Sergio doesn’t say a word, but the air around him speaks volumes. Conor, as usual, can’t read a situation. I wouldn’t have anything to do with him right now if it was up to me, but he’s not telling me a thing, and the dead body in the trunk’s not going to talk.

I have no choice. I need him.

“You don’t get to pick your kills, Heaven. That’s not how this works!” Conor slams his foot on the brake at a red light, a few blocks from Central Park North.

I grab my brother’s chin and turn it toward me. “It works this way because I’m calling the shots. Your fifteen minutes are up, Conor, and you’ve fucked up plenty in that short amount of time. So step off and let me handle Dominguez.” I pause. “Sergio, you have an extra gun? Knife?”

“Both. And they’re yours.”

“Excellent.” I squeeze Conor’s face. “So, you step off and let me handle shit, or you might find a knife buried in your goddamn thigh before you even have a chance to get out of this car. Or worse.”

Sergio lets out a low whistle from the back seat. “My sister-in-law is a badass bitch,” he mutters, then hands me a gun and a knife. “I’m good with this plan, Heaven. Just so we’re clear.”

“Smart guy,” I say. I look at both weapons and take the knife. A Kershaw automatic blade. One click of the button and the stainless steel blade pops out, the sharp tip glimmering in the sunlight streaming through the windshield.

“You need a gun, too,” Conor says.

“You guys are going to cover me while I find Dominguez. You need the guns. I’ll be fine with the knife.”

No one hears a knife. With a knife, I can get up real close. Make it fucking hurt.

If I focus on the fury, I keep the fear at bay.

“How sure can we be that Dominguez is gonna be at this address?” Sergio asks. “The guy in the trunk wasn’t the only one there. Someone’s reported in by now.”

“That’s just a chance we’re gonna have to take.” Conor hooks a right turn into the park entrance. “Before he pissed his pants and I fired a blank at his temple, the fucker said Dominguez will be too busy with his new shipment of pussy to worry about us. Today, his priority is fucking virgins. Tomorrow, he’ll be back on us.”

White hot and sharp, a new anger comes. And all I can see—apart from Matteo bleeding—is Molly. Men like Dominguez repulse me, and what Matteo said he’d do to me…is that what happened to Molly?

I focus on the anger.

“He’ll be on his back for sure. But it’ll be because he’s dead,” I say, flicking open the knife over and over.

Conor drives through the park, which is surprisingly pretty desolate at this time of the morning. I gaze out the window, scouring the landscape for any signs of life. Ominous figures move through the trees, out of plain sight. Dominguez’s cockroaches. Just waiting to snuff out any threats.

“Talk, Conor,” I say.

The place is located in the Ravine, a heavily forested area in the park. Smart. But good for us, too. Conor explains the setup as he winds around the roads in the park.

“There’s a building hidden in the trees where Dominguez’s crew transports boatloads of young women every month. Apparently, some are sold into slavery, and some work for Dominguez himself. The cartel lures them from different places in Latin America, then they’re brought here and sold into lives of prostitution.”

And drug addiction to keep them docile or the nightmares at bay. I swallow hard, the anger festering like an infection deep in my gut.

Just like Molly.

If she even survived long enough.

Girls who put up too much of a fight are ‘handled’ by their captors. The money isn’t worth the headaches as far as they’re concerned. Too many times, I’ve heard nightmare stories of these poor girls being shot up with so many drugs that they end up overdosing before they can be sold to the highest bidder. And their lives come to a tragic halt.

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