Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
The other man was crying harder now and starting to mumble incoherent words. “My wife. God, just let her go.”
The man holding the gun started to chuckle. “Mario, your sweet wife is now Carlos’ whore. She might have been innocent in your involvement in ratting out your own fucking crew, but Carlos will dirty her right up.”
And then the sound of a gun going off filled her head, had her ears ringing, and had her stumbling back. She fell over the curb, landed on her ass, and felt her wrist twist painfully as she landed on it wrong. But Marra held in her cry, especially when the man that had just been shot fell to the ground in a slump of lifeless bones and flesh, and the killer turned and faced her.
The shadows passed along his face, concealing who he was, but the closer he stepped toward her, the more she scrambled back. Her voice was lodged in her throat, and the pain from her hurt wrist speared right up her arm.
He stepped out of the alleyway, glanced left and then right, and then looked down at her. He bent on his haunches, and she swore she could smell the murderous intent coming off of him. The fact he stared right into her eyes, allowed her to see his face, and knew she had seen him kill someone, told her she was not going to make it out of this alive.
“I have to assume that from your expression you saw what I just did?”
She swallowed but didn’t answer.
“And you have to assume how I have to handle that.” He tsked and reached out with his gun to pick up a strand of her hair off her shoulder. “Such a shame, too, because you are pretty fucking hot.” And then he grabbed her wrist, hauled her up, and pulled her back toward the alleyway.
“No, no, no,” she repeated over and over again, and then realization dawned on her. He slammed her against the brick wall, and she held the small can of pepper spray, lifted it, and sprayed it right in his eyes.
He howled in pain, and she turned to run off, but he snatched her hair, and yanked her back hard enough that she slammed against the ground. The air left her, pain coursed through her skull, and the pepper spray rolled away.
The scent of blood filled her nose, and she turned her head to see the lifeless, dark eyes of a corpse staring right at her. She screamed, finally finding her voice, and tried to stand. But blood coated the ground beneath her, her head and wrist roared out in agony, and fear made her feeling lightheaded.
“You stupid fucking puttana.” The man turned and faced her. He kept rubbing his eyes, but when he saw her he reached out and tangled his hand in her hair. Then he pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead, and started saying a string of Italian. But before he pulled the trigger the sound of a gun going off filled her ears once more, and the warmth of blood sprayed across her face.
He fell to the floor, and she opened her mouth on a silent scream. His blood covered her face, hair, and chest, and her heartbeat filled her ears.
The man now standing in front of her was shrouded in darkness, but when he crouched on his haunches and the light from the streetlamp covered his face, her heart stopped in her chest when she saw who it was.
Joey Bacelli.
5
She was out cold.
Whether it was from the injuries she had, or the fact she was freaked the fuck out, Marra Santos was out like a damn light. Joey picked her up in his arms easily and moved away from the now two lifeless bodies on the asphalt. Little Johnny took another hit from his cigarette and flicked it away.
“What do you want me to do about the bodies?” he asked in a low voice. The streets were quiet right now, but he hadn’t put a silencer on his gun, and so shooting the motherfucker that had just been about to take out Marra would surely have been heard.
“Call the cleaner,” Joey said and took one more glance at Mario. The traitor had found his fate at the end of the gun-barrel of the Bacelli rivals.
“Look at this fucker,” Johnny said and reared his foot back to kick Mario in the gut. The punt was so damn fierce that Mario’s body skidded across the alleyway. “This fuckin’ pucchiacha got it easy,” Johnny said on a growl. “I would have taken my fuckin’ bat to his traitorous ass.” He grabbed his cell from inside of his jacket and called Luciano, the Bacelli cleaner that came to places and took care of the blood and bodies. It was a sick fucking job, but Luciano was also one twisted and demented man, and Joey swore he enjoyed finding creative ways to get rid of the bodies they didn’t want found.