Page 154 of The Contract

“It’ll be Riley’s problem real fucking fast. You think I missed that pathetic hard-on at the wedding? The one visible from fucking space?”

I snort, voice acid-dry. “My uncle scoping out my dick size? Flattering if it weren’t creepy as fuck.”

He lunges closer, shoulders coiled, ready to strike. “If that necklace isn’t back in my hand, Dante, I’ll be collecting payment from her—in blood.”

By now, Chio should have her halfway home.

Or maybe to a hotel.

A safe house.

Why not my house?

Shut up.

I stare him down with flat, bored eyes. “Good luck with that.”

“Oh, it’s only a matter of time, Dante.” He inches forward, breath reeking of whiskey and decay, voice a low, chilling rasp. “I will find her. I’ll fuck her raw. Over and over again. Use her. Break her. Cum in every hole until she begs for death. Then pass her around to all my friends.”

Something in me fractures.

He wanted the monster? He just woke it the fuck up.

My hand fists in his collar, slamming him spine-first into the wall. My elbow drives into his ribs, a violent crack beneath it.

The fucker smirks. “Bulletproof vest.”

“Too bad it doesn’t cover your face.”

The burning cherry of my cigar arcs toward his eye. Finding Riley will be that much harder if he can’t fucking see her.

But then I feel it.

Cold steel pressing hard against my skull.

The menace of a harsh voice slices through. “Let him go, Dante.”

I glance sideways, expecting one of my uncle’s oversized goons—or hell, maybe even one of mine, deciding to twist the knife. Instantly, I curse myself for walking into a secluded alley without a real weapon and zero backup.

Fucking genius.

The thought flickers that I’ve got just enough time to turn one of this bastard’s eyeballs into a molten marshmallow before they paint my brains across the bricks.

Because, fuck it. Why not?

But when I turn, reality punches me straight in the teeth. A flood of petty details confirm that this asshole isn’t even a blip on my radar.

Gun? Old.

Suit? Clearance rack.

And whoever forced him into those shoes and that tie is either a scorned lover, his mortal enemy, or blind as fuck.

My lip curls into a slow, vicious smirk.

Special Agent Caleb Knox. Jesus, talk about scraping the bottom of the fucking barrel.

I shove my uncle away, lip curled with disgust.

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