Page 56 of Hostile Bond
“However, had I known you were set to inherit the whole fucking Sicilian empire from Don Sapori…your father… Christ, I would have dragged you back to the estate and fucked you myself.” When he traces my jaw with his short nails, a violent shiver skitters over me like he’s dumped a bucket of venomous caterpillars on my head. “I can see why André agreed to marry you, and it's not your sexy ass. I have to give him credit for such an excellent business move. Elias never thought Dré was capable of much more than fucking women and product distribution. He was considered the crazy son who’d die before the rest of his brothers. Only time will tell if that happens.”
I jerk my head away from his unwanted touch. My insides revolt from his closing sentence that hints a direct threat at Andre. I swallow hard and reach for the coffee, needing a shot of caffeine to get me through this. It’s tepid, cheap, and unpalatable. Nothing like the prime ground beans from André’s personal collection.
Sean runs a hand over his scalp, intensifying the scowl I direct at him. “Tell me…” He taps ash onto the floor, without a care for the mess he’s creating. “Why did you risk running from the Colombian cartel? Didn’t you enjoy the sex?” My hands itch to slap the smirk off the fresh five o’clock shadow on his self-satisfied face. “The guy has plenty of experience.” He chuckles from the back of his throat. “Dré knows how to fuck hard. So, I’m guessing it wasn’t that. Perhaps he was too rough for your taste? You were a weak little shite back then. No spine. Just pointless tears and a nasty habit of turning up where you weren’t wanted.”
Go fuck yourself!
I refuse to rise to the bait until he lunges across the table and snares my wrist. The mug tips from the sudden attack and coffee pours over the edge like a waterfall.
His gaze locks with mine as he presses the fiery tip of his cigarette into the palm of my hand, dead center. The muscles in my arm brace and my back teeth grind so hard they could shatter. A melting temperature burns through the top layer of flesh, the disgusting stench of singed skin overwhelming.
Even through the searing pain, I won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. This bastard will never reduce me to tears again.
“I asked you a question, little viper. Why did you risk it all to come back here? Answer me or I’ll do the same to her eyeball.” I shudder from the coldness in his tone, but the threat of Mammy’s suffering snaps my temper.
“Because I’m going to kill you, motherfucker!” I hiss, squaring up to him from across the table and yanking my hand away. “I came home to save my mother fromyou. I should have pulled the trigger that night. Don’t think for one second, I won’t do it this time.”
Sean looks at me for a split second. Something obscure passes behind the reflective film coating his cold eyes. As I inhale a tattered breath to gather my composure, he grabs the handgun from the table, aims behind me, and fires without hesitation.
The ear-splitting crack of a bullet rips through the air and blocks out every other sound, including my galloping heartbeat. It happens too fast for me to react—to protect Mammy.
I spin around in the seat and find a trail of blood trickling from a hole in the front of her head, her execution lightning quick.
“No!” My legs give way when I push off the chair to reach her. “Mammy!” I scream, scurrying on hands and knees, cupping her cheeks, and touching pasty skin that still holds a whisper of heat.
No! No! No!
I collapse on top of her and hunt for the slow tempo of her heart as it finally stutters to a halt under my palm.
My temper combusts.
“You fucking bastard!” I bellow. “I’ll kill you!” The words catch in my throat as a sob threatens to break.
Violence electrifies my veins in preparation for war. Except two sets of strong hands latch onto my arms from behind and I’m hauled away from my dead mother.
I’m suddenly aware of the darkness sucking me in. The decision to slaughter the bastard is irrefutable. No matter what the consequences are––this man will die.
Bitterness burns over my heart and seals the damaged organ, so tightly that vengeance is all it beats for.
I’m manhandled to stand before him, hair mapping my face, my nostrils flaring and my whole body shaking. Being this close to him only feeds the monster growing inside of me and taps into the wrath I’ve harbored for decades. It doesn’t simply reignite; it explodes with seething hot coals and lava.
When we’re face to face, I manage to spit at him while I struggle against my captor’s brutal grip. “You'll die for that, Sean. I promise you.”
He studies me in silence and cocks his head. “Nah. That won’t happen.” The calmness of his voice chills me to the bone. “Jack, get the body out of here before Dré shows up. We’ll tell him the woman wasn’t here. Take the hoodie off, little viper. You’re a filthy fucking mess.”
I lunge at him, only for the hands restricting me to clamp tighter. “If you hurt me, André will kill you, Sean. I know he will.”
Sean’s face contorts. “It’s so funny that you’re actually serious. You think my nephew would go up against me… his own family? Christ, you’ve got no idea who you’ve been screwing.” His dark laughter’s cruel, as apprehension scurries down my spine.
“I'd rather not end your life today. My nephew and I have a few teething problems to iron out. He’s fucking with my business in Miami.” In one stride, he closes the space between us and hollows my cheeks with firm fingertips. “Do you know what I see when I look into your pretty eyes?” His smoky, acrid breath caresses my skin, making me nauseous. “The same thing as André––a mafia kingdom up for grabs when Sapori dies.”
Behind us, two soldiers move chairs and tables as they heave my mother’s corpse out of sight. I strain my eyes to the left and catch a glimpse of her scruffy boots trailing over the stone floor.
It takes every speck of strength within me not to break and hold back my sobs. I suck in my bottom lip as it wobbles and focus on the mess I plan to make of the man tormenting me.
“My husband murdered Frankie.” I croak. “Which makes him more powerful than you’ll ever be. And there’s no way he’d divorce me now that he’s in Frankie’s shoes.”
He releases the biting control he has on my face, then gently taps my cheek in thought, his fingers catching in the tangles of my disorderly hair.
