Page 158 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Because, it seems that whatever the fuck else can go wrong tonight, will.

And I have to be ready.

A strong hand grasps the back of my neck, tugging my hair backward so that I stumble into a thick, hard body firmly rooted behind me. I yelp as I spin around, shooting out my arm and slamming my makeshift weapon straight into the guy’s cheek.

He stumbles backward, giving me the chance to get the hell away from him. A loud roar erupts from his chest as he pulls the blood-soaked heel out of his flesh. I kick off my other shoe, my feet pounding the pavement as I head for my car ahead in the darkness. He grunts, low and menacing, his beady black eyes so dark, he looks like a demon. It’s definitely the leader of the dipshit crew who was trying to meet with Sergio. I don’t dare look back. I just run, ignoring the bits of gravel slicing at my soles. But damn, it’s so dark. So dark and?—

I scream, stubbing my toe into the side of a pipe sticking out of the road. I pause only for a second, but it was one second too long and he grabs me by the hair, yanking me backward.

“You thought you were gonna get away before, didn’t you? Thought he was gonna protect you? Butputaslike you never think about anything besides sucking cock. Well, I’ve got a cock for ya. A nice fat one that you’re gonna enjoy.” He points a knife blade at my jugular, his other hand tugging my hair. “Drop to your knees, bitch, and open wide!”

My screeches shatter the air and I know there’s a knife blade pointed at my neck, but there’s no way I’m sucking anything! I let my body go limp against him, catching him off-guard enough that he has to either catch me or let me hit the ground.

Either way, I win.

And he chooses to let me fall, fucker that he is. I fall between his legs and flip around, driving both of my fists straight into his groin. I use every shred of power in me and he collapses to the ground, narrowly missing my head. I roll out from under him and leap to my feet as he writhes around on the ground, clutching himself. I take the opportunity to stomp on his cock once more before I kick him in the head and in the throat for good measure. He tries to grab for me, but I easily sidestep his fists.

Blood rushes between my temples as I back away from him, running toward my car. I move as fast as I can, turning back to make sure he hasn’t miraculously rolled to his feet. “Help me!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Someone, please!”

“What the hell is going on out here?”

I hear a deep, male voice along with scattered footsteps pounding along the pavement in my direction. I keep jogging, taking large gulps of oxygen, daring to look back for one split second.

I squint in the darkness.

Yes, it’s definitely him.

Sergio Villani.

He slows down when he sees the guy still floundering on the ground, and then rushes past him until he reaches me. “What happened? Did that cocksucker come after you?”

“He grabbed me,” I seethe. “Forced me to the ground with a knife to my throat.”

“And he’s the one laying on his back now.” He grins at me. “Impressive.”

I glare at the guy. “I did what I had to do. And I’d do it again!Harder!” I shriek.

He pulls away and looks at my feet. “Where are your shoes?”

“I kicked one off and stabbed him in the face with the other one.”

“I won’t lie. This whole Black Widow routine you’ve got going on is making me kinda hot.” He smirks.

I roll my eyes.

“¡Maldita puta! ¡te mataré!”he screams at me as Sergio’s guy shakes him and smacks him on the side of the head.

I glare at him, not really sure what he said, but it didn’t sound good.

Sergio grabs him by the collar and shakes him, pulling him close so that they’re practically nose to nose. My eyes fall on a marking on my assailant’s collarbone, something I didn’t see earlier because it was hidden by his shirt.

I clap a hand over my mouth, bile rising in my throat, the image branded in my memory forever. I’ll never forget it…never forget what I saw that night.

It’s how we found out who killed Mom and Dad, how we knew the Becerra Cartel tore apart our family and our lives.

My fingers twitch as I run them over the symbols sliced into the leather headrest of my parents’ totaled car. I drag them over the blood splatters, leaving streaks of red in their wake. Tears run down my cheeks, dripping onto the leather, still warm from where my father’s body lay hunched over the steering wheel. A sob erupts from my chest as I stare at the message that was left for Nate…for us.

305 BC.

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