Page 12 of Red Retaliation
“I rarely joke,” Red snarls, then turns to me. “I’m not sure what you’vedone or why, but you’ll stay here until I decide what to do with you.”
“Decide?” I yell. “What does that mean? Are you helping me or not?”
“Red, I don’t want her staying here, I...”
Raising his hand for silence, Red turns back to me, his eyes cold. “In answer to your question, I don’t know what I’ll do yet, but you’ll find out soon enough.” He jerks his head in his brother’s direction again. “Put her in a room and lock her in.”
I blink. “What? You can’t lock me...”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want. And you will obey me,” Red snarls. “And Liam? Get rid of this fucking cock from my office.”
CHAPTER
7
Red
SINCE TAKING OVER the running of the firm from my father, I don’t tend to get involved with the physical grunt. I have little to do with the casino either. The running of that is left to others. I just take the profits.
WhatIdeal with is negotiations and the final part of deals; working out which territories to take. Overseeing the lugging and shifting of gear, guns and anything else we happen to trade in during any one shipment, my brothers and the closest in line after them, handle.
My father always said the boss never muddies himself with hands-on duties, so I’ve followed his direction, but over the last six months I’ve missed the process. Sitting behind a desk is not something I enjoy. I get more job satisfaction kicking ten bells of shit and instilling the fear of God into people, but my reasoning for rolling my sleeves up today goes deeper than boredom.
I need to get my fucking head straight before this situation drives me insane.
“I think that went smoothly.” Del hefts wooden tea crates into a line along the wall of the warehouse.
I nod my agreement. Del’s right - the shipment that just droppeddidgo smoothly. We’ve gained hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of cocaine, with the street value worth a lot more, plus part of a new territory was negotiated. A job well done.
I take a crowbar propped against the wall and shove it in the top of a crate. Prizing up the lid, I smile as the wood splinters away from the sides.There’s something comforting about that sound. It reminds me of a particularly enjoyable job of removing someone’s teeth back in the old days. If I remember rightly, it was one of Galavatore’s men who copped for that: a sad-faced fuck of a runner caught earwigging on our premises. How he got in I’ll never know, but let’s just say that he didn’t get out.
That was my first “strong-arm” job at fourteen years of age - my father’s way of giving me an easy initiation task to test my mettle.
I tense. Thinking of the Galvatores raises a wave of fury within my blood every time, convinced they, along with the Bristonis, were behind Lorna’s part in my parents’ deaths. And I want to think of that name less than usual now that one of that family is presently locked within a room in my club.
Arianna.
Her name alone makes me hard, and that isn’t something I appreciate or understand. In fact, it bothers me.
How the hell can I have an unslakeable thirst for someone belonging to that fucking family? And not a thirst to kill, but to fuck? And to fuck so hard and for so long that the woman will never move or think without being reminded of me. She’d beg for more, pleading with me to make her come. I want to plunge so deep into her and take her to places she’s never known. More places than that bastard Bristoni ever took her. I want to fuck all traces of him out of her.
I can see her now - her violet eyes begging in frustrated desperation; her need dripping from her like a fountain.
I’d take her over and over and...
“Mate? Are you all right?”
Del stares at me in concern and with horror, I realize I’m gripping the edges of the splintered tea crate, blood collecting in my whitening knuckles from dislodged staples.What the fuck am I doing?
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” I lie, knowing I’m far from that. My torment becomes complete as my aching erection tents harder against my trousers. I bend down, pretending to inspect the contents of the tea chests, but in reality, it’s only to conceal my embarrassment.
Del must have noticed.Fuck.
I don’t know what’s worse - being caught with a massive hard-on in the middle of a warehouse while sifting through a delivery of cocaine or that my thoughts are so consumed with the Galvatore woman I can no longer keep my fucking mind on track.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Del leaves the crate he’s shifting andheads towards me. “You haven’t been yourself since yesterday.”
I clench my jaw, wishing he’d stop asking me things I don’t want to acknowledge, let alone answer. The more that happens, the more I’ll be forced to make a decision I don’t want to take. And that is to kill the girl.
