Page 47 of Hostile Devil
“What’s the surprise?” André asks me, cracking his knuckles. “And why the sudden change of personality?”
I smile to myself. “I don’t think he wanted me to go to Sicily.”
“If this is some bullshit trap, he can go fuck himself. I don’t fold for anyone,” André bites out.
“Trap?” I repeat, my heart thundering in my chest. “Do you really think your brother would lure you to a clifftop mansion and lock you up?”
Oh my God. He wouldn’t… would he?
“This is totally out of character for him.” Tomás’ voice comes through all our headsets. “Carina has my permission to blow his house off the cliff if I’m not beside her in twenty-four hours. I’ll send her the coordinates when we land.”
“For fuck’s sake, Tommy.” Matheus grits out. “Our brother finally asked us to visit his home all because he doesn’t want Dré to take India away. You’d do the same if I was trying to steal Carina, wouldn’t you?”
Tomás grunts. “You'd know better.”
“Gio always has our backs. He’s not on a mission to wipe out his family tree. You’re fucking paranoid.”
“Don’t,” Tomás warns, his tone glacial. “Say that again and I’ll push you out of the helicopter and tell Mama you wanted to try skydiving.”
“Do it.” Matheus jerks forward in his seat, the harness yanking him back. “Come on, Tommy. Open the door and try to push me the fuck out. Just because Papá forced me into education doesn’t mean I can't fight like the rest of you.”
André chuckles. “Someone’s wasted.”
“And you wish you were too, cabron. Instead, your ass is whipped, Dré.” Matheus fires back, his mood dark.
“I’d let Sin whip me all night long. That shit gets me hard just thinking about it.” Dré flips his brother the bird.
My stomach churns when the chopper swoops low, and I catch a glimpse of blackened turrets peeking out of the treetops.
“We’re here,” I announce. “This is Blackwater Manor. Where Giovanni lives.”
André leans across me to look out of the window. “Years ago, when he’d first bought it, he showed me a picture. I said it looked creepy… but fuck… in real life it’s clearly where he manifests nightmares,” he mutters.
The flight path continues over the top of the old house, heading towards a concrete base where the helipad sits behind wind warped trees. After a few minutes, we land and the pilot switches off the engine.
André immediately rips off his headset and reaches for the door, jumping out ahead of everyone. I drag mine off too and follow him.
Salty fresh air plays in my hair and sea bird chatter broadcasts my return. A shiver skitters down my spine, instinctively aware of his eyes all over us from somewhere nearby.
He would have seen the helicopter close in on his territory from miles away, and now we’ve landed. His guests are exactly where he wants them.
“What the fuck is that?” André looks over at the modern structure sprawling out from the original house, its vast glass windows and clever angles soaking up the oceanic view.
“Home,” I reply and fold my arms across my chest, looking for Gio.
I stare up at the sky where a layer of dark cloud moves in from the north. There’s a storm brewing and something tells me it's not only Heaven that’s angry.
André plucks out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from his jeans’ pocket. “Where is the fucker? You’d think he would be here to welcome us.” His voice is smokier than the cigarette he nips with his teeth and sets fire to with a zippo.
As his words bite out, I finally spot Giovanni in the distance and my heart flounders. He’s heading our way, dressed in pitch-black combat gear. His face is covered in a balaclava and a machine gun slung over his right shoulder.
In all his glory, Giovanni’s warlike appearance gives me chills. Keeping my eyes glued to his dominant prowl, he peels off the face covering and lets it fall. Beneath it his thick dark hair is wild, and his expression tight.
Even this terrifying version of him makes my heart thrum faster.
An urgent compulsion to run to him and soothe the unhallowed monster within him has my legs twitching. However, a large hand lands on my shoulder and Tomás dips into the side of my face from behind.
“Don’t move.” His tone rumbles with precise annunciation, the ever-controlled boss of a family at war, his authority holding me ransom.
