Page 28 of Vicious Vows

“The Albanians have had money taken from them too. We know it’s your little wifey. We know you’re hiding her from us. We even know how she does it.” He brings his left hand up and grinds it into the palm of his right hand, and I blink slowly to show exactly how not intimidated I am.

“You have no proof,” I say, glancing at the second man who seems agitated and restless. They’re looking for a fight, and I won’t back down if they start one.

“You’re outnumbered, Santoro. Just admit it. We’ve come to collect. We’ll be taking our payment in gold today.” The man pulls his vest open and brandishes his gun at me, tucked into his waistband.

I chuckle at his insolence. Before he can even react, I snatch his gun, drop the clip, pull the slide back to discharge the round in the chamber, and toss the weapon away. As I do, his fist connects to my jaw, but I was expecting that.

My head snaps to the side with the force, my jaw stinging with the impact. I spit a glob of blood onto the sidewalk and wipe the residue off the corner of my lip with a quick swipe of my hand. But I don't go down. Instead, I grin—just a smirk, really, a defiant twist of my lips.

"Gold, you say?" I murmur, even as I raise my fists, ready for what's coming. Without warning, I step forward and land a solid punch squarely in his chest. He grunts in surprise more than pain. Clearly, he wasn't expecting me to retaliate.

As he reels back, the second man lunges at me, but I’m ready for him too. I sidestep, grab him by the thick collar of his leather jacket, and slam him into the brick wall behind us. His head bounces off with a sickening thud. He groans, slumping down onto the ground, unconscious.

“You guys really are amateurs,” I taunt, shaking my head and wincing at the pain it causes. "Next time you want to threaten someone, make sure you know who you're dealing with."

In the meantime, the first man has recovered from my blow and turns to face me again, anger flashing in his eyes. He charges at me, his fists clenched tight and rage contorting his face. Butthat's the mistake they always make—letting anger cloud their judgment.

He lunges, attempting to aim a punch at my head. But I pivot, spinning on the balls of my feet, and his fist meets nothing but air. He stumbles forward, momentarily disoriented, and I seize the opportunity. Quickly closing the distance between us, I drive my elbow into his stomach, then follow up with a swift uppercut that knocks him onto his back.

For a second, he just lies there, dazed. Then, he tries to get back up again. A stubborn one, I’ll give him that. But I’m not about to let him regain his footing.

"You should've stayed down," I warn him, but it only seems to fuel his determination. He staggers back onto his feet, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. Hatred burns in his eyes as he lunges at me again. This time, he’s more cautious, keeping a safe distance between us. But I can see through his bluffs.

I mirror his stance, circling him as he circles me. We’re two predators sizing each other up, only one of us already knows the outcome of this battle. He's scrambling to make his next move while I've already planned my last.

"Enough games, Santoro," he growls, lunging forward again with a wild right hook. I step back just out of reach, and his momentum carries him past me. Before he can correct himself, I launch forward, catching him in the small of his back with a hard push. His feet tangle together, and he goes sprawling face first into the concrete sidewalk.

I could end it here, could walk away now while he’s down and out. But there's a gnashing desperation in his eyes that tells me otherwise—that I need to ensure he stays down. So, I strideforward, each step echoing ominously on the empty street. He tries to scramble away, but his movements are slow, sluggish. I glance back at his unconscious partner, slumped against the wall.

"You had your chance," I tell him as I reach down and pull him up by the collar of his jacket.

His eyes are wide with rage. "I'll kill you, Santoro," he spits through gritted teeth, struggling against my grip. Blood from his split lip drips onto the concrete.

"No," I respond, my voice as cold as the winter wind that blows through the deserted alleyway, "you won't."

I tighten my grip on his collar, pulling him in closer. His breath reeks of cheap booze and desperation, a combination all too familiar in this sorry business.

"You see," I continue, forcing a smile onto my lips as I feel his heart pounding against my knuckles, "you made two mistakes today. First, you underestimated me. Second, you threatened to kill me."

His eyes narrow, defiance blazing in his gaze. I release my hold on him slightly, giving him the room he needs to launch another attack. Predictably, he does. His fist flies toward my face, but this time, I don’t avoid it. This guy needs a lesson and I'm more than willing to give it.

His punch lands on my cheek, but the impact is weak, his energy drained from our fight. I stagger back for good measure, allowing him to believe he has an upper hand. His face splits into a triumphant grin at my faked reaction, but it quickly falters as I straighten up, the smirk back on my face.

"Is that all you’ve got?" I ask, chuckling coldly. His triumph quickly turns into despair, and he takes a step back, suddenly wary of his previous confidence. But I don’t give him the chance to escape. I lunge forward, my fist connecting with his jaw in a satisfying thud, and his head slams backward into the brick behind him.

His eyes roll back into his head as he crumples on the spot, limp and unconscious. I release my grip on his collar and let him slump onto the cold concrete. The grim satisfaction washing over me is short-lived, though, replaced by the familiar anger that always rises after an encounter like this.

Now, I need to go home and see Micah. If they really are on to our game, I have to increase security, and her desire to go home and visit her father is out.

21

MICAH

“Yes, but the software patch is just a patch. The code needs to be entirely rewritten or you’re going to end up with the same errors.” I can’t believe how Dale wants to cut corners. Even Christopher doesn’t seem to understand, though he’s not necessarily a tech guy, more just the brute muscle of Luke’s security team.

I sit behind my computer in Luke’s office, which has slowly morphed into my office now that I have free reign of the house again. We’re working on installing new cameras and upgrading security measures for the casino after the near catastrophe that was averted by my quick thinking. It took a lot for Luke to admit he was sorry for overreacting to what happened, and though I still firmly believe that his world is far too dangerous for me to be a part of it long-term, I gave him my promise that I won’t just run away from him.

Part of me is okay with that promise because I do believe so much as it’s in his power, Luke will never let anything happen to me or my family. I just don’t like the means by which he will protect all of us if it comes down to it. The men he is stealingfrom are scary and have no moral compass whatsoever. If they get to me, I’m dead, and if they want to get to me but can’t, my family is dead.

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