Page 37 of Sin City Obsession

Alessa let her gaze drift over the new collection as he passed. The knife block was as pictured, more or less. Every slot was full, between the row of six steak knives, the kitchen shears, the honing steel, and the assortment of other blades. Fifteen pieces in total. Alessa had already forgotten what brand, only that she might have balked at paying so much if she were using them for their intended purpose. But then, she was no cook.

Next to the knife set, Rocco had unboxed and pulled open the tool kit so that it faced out like some sort ofgame show prize. And the inside did look nice. More than three hundred pieces in total, though she wouldn’t have need of or the means to use all of them. Prominently visible were some of the easiest items to name, including the promised claw hammer, multiple kinds of wrenches, at least two types of pliers, a wire stripper, different sized screwdrivers, and her two favorite pieces—the utility knife and the hack saw. The hack saw was even supplied with a spare blade. There was also sandpaper if she remembered right, as well as another pair of scissors.

The display of the cram-packed interior, including one partially opened drawer, felt like an offering. It made the darker side of her heart do the same stupid fluttering thing that the rest had already been doing for more than a damn day.

Her smile was easy as she lifted her gaze up to Rocco’s. “You know what? It’s totally fine that your jealous assistant dumped my tools. Still unacceptable in that she violated boundaries, but totally fine. I’ve got all I’ll need.” Well, once she factored in the other thing.

She wasn’t as thrilled about that one. But that had been a specific request. Her target had made an enemy, and whether she ultimately chose to let him live with a warning or ended his life, he needed to never be allowed to forget that mistake.

Alessa moved up and caressed her fingers over the assortment of new, untouched playthings. So shiny, so smooth, so unblemished.So virginal.It was fitting that they would inevitably be broken in with blood.

“You’re starting to make me jealous, the way you’re touching those, beautiful.”

She flicked her eyes up to him from her crouched position. The angle was not lost on her, but she tamped down on the urge. “You’ll have to endure, sweetheart. You promised not to interfere.”

He stared at her for a lingering moment, his eyes an unreadable pool of intensity and hunger. Then his lips kicked up, his dimples popped, and he repeated, “Sweetheart, huh? I guess I’ll behave.”

Shit.It’d just slipped out. She hadn’t even heard herself say it.

Alessa dropped her gaze back to the tools and stubbornly ignored the flush on her cheeks. She selected a steak knife from the set, stood, and prayed the redness that might have bloomed was faded as she turned.

Emanuele chose that moment to re-enter the room, carrying the two new blowtorches they’d had to send runners for. The one part of her pre-requested toybox she could not compromise on.

This time it sounded like Lou who didn’t approve.

“I gotta ask,” Emanuele said as he carefully set the torches down in the line of toys, “are you really going to use these things?”

Alessa wiped all traces of a smile from her face as she met his stare. “Dragon’s orders.”

She thought Emanuele might have taken a deeper breath, but he hid it well. And she liked the guy, so she didn’t call him on it.

Instead, steak knife in hand, she faced her captives once more. “It’s time to get better acquainted.” Alessa stepped up,planted her flat-heeled boot heavily on Lou’s nearest ankle, and used that foot to roll her weight forward as she brought the knife up toward Gwathney’s face.

Lou made a strained, groaning kind of sound. As if he were still trying to play the tough guy while she literally rested the majority of her healthy, five-foot, six-inch weight on his poor, unguarded ankle.

Gwathney’s eyes were glued to her knife like he thought he could repel it as long as he didn’t blink.

Alessa pressed it very carefully, serrated edge out, onto the duct-tape beside his mouth. “Roll your lips away from the tape,” she instructed, “but donotturn your head. Not unless you want to bleed.” Could she peel the tape off? Absolutely. Would it hurt like a son of a bitch, but be less psychologically terrifying? All yes. The latter being why she preferred this method.

Men, no matter their own size and no matter their own blatant, immediate disadvantages, tended to underestimate a woman in her position. Women in the mafia were to be the homemakers, the housecleaners, the baby-machines. They were not, ever, the muscle. They did not get bruised, bloody, and vicious. So if Alessa wanted her targets to view her the way they viewed any mafia man who might have tied them up and demanded answers from them, she needed to put the fear of fucking God into them first.

It was unfair. But life was unfair. So she’d learned to compensate.

Alessa pressed harder with the knife and felt Gwathney flinch, but to his credit, the movement didn’t carry to his head.He held his head perfectly still while his torso trembled like a tiny leaf in the wind. From the indentations on the tape, she saw when he did his probable best to retract his lips. If he’d been smart, he would have done something similar when the tape was applied and given himself a minute amount of space to work with. She didn’t take him as smart, so she pressed the blade tip carefully into the tape until she found the natural seam of his lips.

As she often did, she had the split-second temptation to rip the knife across in a quick, sweeping motion that would undoubtedly slice into his mouth. The Joker Effect, she’d dubbed it in her mind.

She resisted. She needed this one talking.

Careful always took a few seconds longer, but as always, she carved her niche into the tape. Most of the tape remained attached to Gwathney’s face, a bit of it frayed and flapping over his mouth, and some of it cut completely away. The overall effect was visually quirky, but the physical sensation would be a constant reminder for him that even his ability to speak—to draw larger, easier breaths—was under her control. That it was her mercy which had granted it.

Once that was done, she moved back and stepped off Lou’s ankle.

Lou was louder that time, and she was almost sure she’d heard the wordbitchunder his tape. Lou had probably thought to pull his lips away when the tape was slapped on.

Alessa flashed him a smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you inconvenienced by my foot on your ankle?” She paused, let her gazedrop to his now twisted ankle. “And here I thought you were the strong one.”

“Wh-what … what do you want with us?” Gwathney asked.

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