Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I released him, grimacing. Had anyone not seen that fucking video?
“You’re here to help me find the men responsible for our capture, not to be the judge over my sins. Only Sara and God can do that.”
I was brushing my dog Bacon’s white fur on my parents’ veranda when my phone rang. He let out a yowl when I put down the brush. His short fur didn’t require combing, but he loved being petted like that, so I tried to brush him every other night. Despite his upbringing in a puppy mill, he was a very gentle Dogo Argentino.
When I saw the name on the screen, my brief sense of calm evaporated. It was Romero. Did he have new information on the Russians? Maddox’s and my investigations hadn’t come up with their location so far.
“Can you come over?” Romero asked.
“To your house?” I asked, stunned. I’d never been there, and after what had happened, I hadn’t expected for that to change. I hadn’t seen Sara in the past two weeks, nor anyone from her family except for Romero. Flavio avoided me and so did the women of the family, naturally.
“Yes. We need to discuss something.”
“Sure.” I stood and dusted myself off. “I can be there in forty minutes.”
“Good.” Romero hung up.
“What’s up?” Primo asked as he came up behind me. He had been stretched out on the swing.
“Romero wants me to come over to his place.”
Primo’s face reflected my own confusion. We shared the same hair color, but his eyes were our mother’s blue. Not as kind, though. “Do you think it’s a trap? Do you want me to come with you as backup?”
That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d been too wrapped up in the thought that I might see Sara again, and fuck, that possibility scared me more than a possible trap. I could deal with torture, but I wasn’t sure I could face her.
“That’s not Romero’s style.”
“Some things change people.”
Who was he telling? I wasn’t the same person I’d been before. I didn’t want to think of how Romero must have felt watching the recording. Fuck. If he changed his mind and wanted to kill me in front of Sara, could I really blame him? Should I even stop him?
“Don’t even think about it,” Primo warned. “Your death won’t change anything. You can’t undo it. You did what had to be done. Everyone agrees.”
“I doubt Sara does,” I growled.
“She said it’s okay, Max. You killing yourself with guilt won’t make a difference. But you killing every Bratva soldier as brutally as you can will.”
I patted Bacon’s head who’d picked up on my agitation and pressed himself against my leg.
“I need to leave now if I want to make it on time in this traffic.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Primo asked with crossed arms.
“Absolutely.”
I got into my truck and drove off. I could see Primo in the rearview mirror with Bacon by his side, watching me leave. I wondered if this was the last time I’d see my brother. Should I have hugged my mom one more time?
I shook my head. I turned up the music, drowning out my thoughts.
After I’d parked at the curb in front of the Cancio home, a brownstone townhouse in Greenwich Village, I stayed seated for a while. It wasn’t that I was scared of possible retribution. I blew out a breath and got out, then headed for the door.
It opened before I could knock. Flavio stood in the doorway. He was only seventeen, but in the past two weeks since the kidnapping, he’d become a real man. He wasn’t as tall as me, very few were, and not as broad, but from the tension in his body, I could tell it wouldn’t stop him from a fight. “Took you a long time to get out of your car.”
Romero appeared behind his son and gave me a tight smile. They were the same height and looked remarkably alike, with brown hair, brown eyes, and similar facial features. “Maximus, come in.” He opened the door wider and gave Flavio a stern look that made him step back so I had room to enter.
“Should I take my shoes off?” I asked. My boots would probably leave marks on the beige carpet.
“Liliana would rip your head off if you didn’t,” Romero said with a tight smile.
I had a feeling she would do it with or without shoes. I slipped out of my shoes and left them on a mat by the door.
It felt strange being inside their home, as if I were intruding even though they’d asked me to come. Steps sounded upstairs, then Liliana rushed down the wooden staircase and stormed my way. She slapped me hard. I didn’t move, waiting for more of her anger to manifest in violence, but she simply breathed harshly, glaring at my chest. Sara shared similar facial features to her mother, and just that reminder was enough to make me take whatever violence she wanted to unleash. She was a petite woman, but her slap would have made even some men take notice.