by V Vee
Hmm… how’d it get there?
“Listen, baby. It sucks, but the plain and simple fact is, Nia and I have spent our lives having to deal with racist assholes. Eh, eh—” she tsked, shaking her head. “Just because she didn’t tell you, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And I’m guessing there’s a deeper conversation Nia needs to have with you anyway.”
I sighed deeply. “You caught that too, hmm?”
“Damn straight I did. But look, check it. Your uncle was a racist asshole who had a fetish for black women.” She shrugged. “It happens. Those people suck, and for the most part, me and mine stay away from them and theirs, you feel me?” I nodded and she smiled. “Now, can we talk about these shooters?”
I blinked at her. “Whoa. What the fuck, K-Love? Warn a guy when you’re going to be changing the topic all motherfucking fast and shit like that.”
Kyra laughed and shrugged again. “Look, baby. I don’t know about you, but I don’t appreciate these fucking Italians shooting at us every time we step outside the door. I want this shit done and I want it done with now. Squash this beef, or I’m going to have to.”
I quirked an eyebrow and looked down at her with amusement. “Oh yeah? And how the fuck do you plan on doing that?”
Kyra folded her arms and stared at me, her facial expression becoming deadly serious.
“I know Francesco Russo took over for the “family” since his father’s body washed up on the shore a few months back,” she said.
I blinked and stepped back, waving my hands in the air. “Wait. Wait. Wait! You’re telling me Piero Russo is dead?” I asked in surprise.
Kyra rolled her eyes. “Yeah. It’s going to be labeled as a heart attack, and an accidental drowning, when he fell off the side of his boat during one of his many parties filled with various debaucheries, but really he got an overdose of Digitalis™ from the young girl whom he was seeing secretly behind his wife’s back.”
I narrowed my eyes, before a grin spread across my lips. “One of yours?”
Kyra shrugged. “One of mine. What can I say? The council and I decided that Francesco was much easier to work with than his father. Especially since he has had a crush on Natalie since the first time she slapped him when they were kids.”
I shook my head in amazement. “How the fuck did I not know any of this? And wait… council?”
Kyra sighed and sat on the edge of my desk, pulling me by my shirt until I was standing in between her legs.
“I wasn’t even supposed to tell you what I did,” she confessed. “And I’m not going to tell you everything. You’re still a fucking man, I think your gahtdamn head would explode if you knew it all, but… well… I don’t feel right keeping secrets from you. Not if we’re talking about being together.”
I gripped her hair, the thick bun she had at the back of her head and tugged her head back. Leaning down I bit her plump lower lip, before licking it to ease the sting. I looked into her brown eyes, which had darkened with passion, and grinned before kissing down her throat to the base of her neck. And right there, where anyone would be able to see, I bit her. Not enough to break skin, but definitely enough to leave a mark.
“Fuck!” Kyra screamed.
I ignored her, sucking the abused skin into my mouth, licking it, then kissing it gently, lovingly. She settled down, but once she had, my hand came up around her neck, my thumb pressing up on the bottom of her chin.
“We’re not talking about being together, Kyra. We are together. Forever. You said you understood and agreed. You. Are. Mine. And I. Am. Yours.” I waited for her to say something, but she simply watched me, her chest moving up and down frantically as she panted, no doubt from a mixture of the pleasure and pain she was feeling. I knew Kyra’s body almost as well as I knew my own, so I smiled. “Unless you need me to bite you again?”
I saw the moment she was considering it, but eventually she shook her head no. So I released her and took a step back.
“So, what’s the other reason you told me?” I asked her.
Kyra bit her bottom lip and I watched her efforts to compose herself. Crossing her legs, straightening her spine, lifting her chin, and squaring her shoulders. All of that before she looked me square in my eyes. Completely in control. In charge.
Shit was sexy as fuck.
And I really wanted to bury my cock inside of her tight, hot pussy at that moment.
“The other reason is that, because of Francesco’s crush on Natalie, I know he wouldn’t continue with this feud without letting me know when and where it was going to be, if only to make sure I didn’t put Natalie out there and put her in danger. It’s that serious for him. I do think it’s the Italians, but I think they’re working on the fringes of the Camorra. I don’t think they have the backing or the support they want us to believe they have.”
I crossed my own arms across my chest and took another small step back. “What the fuck are you saying, Kyra?”
“I’m saying that somebody paid these Italians to try and kill you. I’m just collateral damage here. So is everyone else who has been caught in the crosshairs. This is about you. Someone wants you dead. And it’s time we stop playing fucking defense and start playing offense.”
I frowned and chuckled. “Remember the Titans©?” I questioned, trying to place the line.
“Nope. Senator Joe Manchin. Democrat. West Virginia.” She pushed off the desk and went to walk out of the office, her hips swaying, making me groan.
“Another one of yours?” I asked.
She turned at the door and shrugged. “Or maybe he’s one of yours? Or maybe he’s just a good guy I met once, who said something that stayed with me?” She winked. “Now go find those fucking shooters, Andrew. I’m giving you 48 hours and if you haven’t found them by then, my girls and I are going to step in and show you how it’s done.”
She let out a squeal and took off running when I growled and gave chase. She may have been harsh, but she was right. And she’d laid down the gauntlet. It was time to find those fuckers and get the information I needed.
Who was behind all of this?
Who wanted me dead?
Who was putting my family in danger?
Who had a motherfucking death wish?
I sat in the darkness of the warehouse, waiting. Barely moving. My legs crossed, my guns in my hands, fingers resting next to the trigger. My eyes fixed on the rolling door that would open soon and admit the men I’d been searching for. The ones I’d been looking for.
Hunting.
My guns were simply to get things started. I had a bag full of tools and treats for the six men who would be running in soon, scared and desperate for their lives.
I’d taken my woman’s words to heart and in 24 hours my men and I had gotten information on who was behind the shootouts at Kyra’s home and at the bank. It had taken more than threats to obtain what I wanted. There had been a number of men—eight I believe at last count—who’d thought they were brave enough to stand up to me and the rest of Clan McCarthy. I’d let some of my boys spend some “quality” time with each man. Each of them obtaining a souvenir of sorts for gathering information.
A finger.
A toe.
A tongue.
I believe Tierney had taken one man’s eye.
And it had all led us here. To this warehouse. Waiting on the six men who were making a play to take over the Camorra. Usually, I would have passed along whatever data I’d obtained to the head of the family, but they’d put my woman in danger. They’d put my people in the line of fire. If I wanted to prove to Kyra that I could protect her, that I was worthy of being by her side, then I had to take care of the threat to our family.
And it started now.
The door to the warehouse rolled up and I waited until I saw the silhouettes of all six men before I released a high-pitched whistle and shot, the sound of gunfire echoing from the men I’d brought with me.
I rose from my chair and walked over to the men who were all moaning and
whimpering in pain. I kicked the closest one to me in the stomach. Gesturing to them, I called my boys to me.
“Ludwig get the tables. Tierney grab the tools. Cavan, Ronan, Manus, Riley, Shannon, Bailey, grab a body.”
Like a well-oiled machine each man set about to follow my instructions. Once each one had been placed on top of gurney table, I smiled and clapped my hands together.
“Well, gentlemen. I’d say I’m sorry we had to meet like this, but since you all enjoy coming after me and mine without warning, I figured you were owed a little surprise. So welcome…” I spread my arms outwards as the door to the warehouse was rolled down, Tchaikovsky was playing loudly on the sound system, and the lights were turned on. I laughed as the men got a good look at what my men and I had done to their precious drug “empire.” We’d taken the drugs, loaded them up in trucks, and replaced everything with devices of torture.
“We’re going to play a game, the six of you versus my men and I,” I said calmly, walking over to where Tierney had placed the tools I’d required especially for this conversation. “I’m going to ask you all some questions, whoever answers first, and answers honestly won’t be tortured. I will offer you a quick death. But everyone else? Well…” I chuckled, idly playing my fingers over the silver and wood handles of my instruments. “Let’s just say, my woman is at home in bed and I’ve got all night to learn how the human body works, one limb, one organ at a time.”
One of the six men on the table whimpered, then pissed himself. I shook my head, tsking.
“Well, that’s not good is it boys?” I asked rhetorically. “I mean… you’re a grown ass man. Why the fuck would you piss your pants? Unless…”
I grabbed a scalpel and a pair of pliers and strode over to him, grabbing his bottom lip.
“Do you know why in the fuck you all would have the balls to come after Clan McCarthy?” I growled.
“C-Carlo,” he sobbed.
I nodded. “Hhhmmm… which one of you is Carlo?” I asked. No one responded.
“Damn, Boss. I think they forgot about the rules of the game already,” Riley said with a cruel smile.
“You know, Riley? I think you’re right.” I nodded at him and he turned on a hand saw, his device of choice. After that, each man grabbed something. Me? I liked to be a little more… personal when it came to playing games with my prey. I looked back down at the man on the table in front of me. “Is C-Carlo here?” I questioned, mocking him.
His eyes flicked to the left and back at me. I nodded and patted his cheek. “Good boy. You get to go quickly. Say goodnight.” Then, before he could speak, I put my gun to the right side of his temple and squeezed the trigger, watching the moment life left his eyes, and the minute his friends realized I wasn’t playing.
“Well guys, the other five didn’t say anything. We have to follow the rules of the game,” I said with a helpless shrug, then stepped back, numb to the sounds of screaming that took place as my men removed arms, feet, slices of flesh, legs. When everyone was done blood splattered the floor, and each of the men from the Italian Camorra, or at least they were trying to be “accepted” into the Camorra, were lying in a pool of blood.
“Okay, who’s Carlo?” I asked again.
“I-I am,” one of the men, the one lying in front of Ludwig, who was missing half of his left arm stammered. I walked over to him and looked down at his face. Carlo couldn’t have been more than twenty-eight, his black hair was soaked with his own blood, his pants had darkened with piss and when I sniffed, what smelled an awful lot like shit.
“Fuck man, did you shit your pants too?” I shook my head in disappointment. “What’s with you Italian punks? Can’t you contain your bowels. I mean, damn man. Have some goddamn pride.” My guys laughed and patted Carlo on the shoulder. “Relax man, I’m just teasing you. I know a lot of really good Italians. Ones whom I know would take this torture like a fucking boss.” I leaned close to him. “They’re in the fucking Camorra that you six bitchasses have been trying to get into for months now.”
Carlo snarled and attempted to free himself from the shackles we’d put them all in.
“I-I can tell you everything!” Another young man, who looked as if he were barely pushing twenty-five pleaded. “Carlo was hired by this guy to try to kill you.”
“Shut the fuck up, Benedetto!” Carlo yelled.
“Why? We’re gonna die anyway. I want to go quick. I don’t want to suffer, and you keeping your fucking mouth shut isn’t going to delay the inevitable,” Benedetto reasoned.
I shot Carlo in the knee and he screamed out in pain.
“Hey! I don’t have time to stand here and listen to your fucking petty squabble okay? I want to get home and get back in between my woman’s thighs, so let’s speed this shit up.” I indicated with my gun that I wanted Benedetto to start talking.
He glanced nervously at Carlo, who was babbling in Italian, before turning his hazel eyes back to me. He swallowed and told me everything. With every word. Every line. Every sentence. Every single, motherfucking explanation, I could almost feel my rage grow larger, burn hotter, and become more destructive.
“Carlo came to us and said this fucking, pale Irish dude had approached him and hired him for a job. Said he wanted to kill his cousin. Carlo asked him why. The guy said it was because his cousin had taken up with a nig—” He stopped when every last one of my men growled, and I cocked my gun, aiming it at his dick. “A black woman. He s-said that she was dangerous. Powerful. And that if his cousin took up with her then he’d find out all of the secrets that him and his family had been trying to keep. Said we had to kill his cousin, then kill his bitch. In that order.”
Even though I already knew the answer, I still asked just to be sure.
“What was the name of this pale, Irish dude?”
“Seamus.”
I turned and walked away, ignoring Benedetto’s cries for me to honor my words and kill him quickly. I ignored the sobs, screams, and wails of his associates, his family, as my boys tortured them to death. Benedetto would die quickly. But he would still be tortured first.
But at that moment, I had more important things to focus on. It was time for me to finish what I had started all those months ago. I had a few rotten branches in my family tree, and I was going to have to rip them out.
One by one.
Chapter Seventeen
Kyra- K-Love
“And you’re sure about this?” I asked Natalie, looking up at her from the desk in my office. She nodded, lifting a foot and resting it on her knee. Her maroon-dyed hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, her cinnamon-colored skin with freckles sprinkled across her nose, shined under the fluorescent light of my office. Natalie was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and black shirt, her usual attire whenever she wasn’t on duty, and though I’d given Andrew 48 hours, I’d needed to know who was responsible for shooting up my grandmother’s home and had put my girls on the case.
They’d gotten me the info in six hours.
I sat back in my seat and steepled my fingers with a sigh. “What do you think I should do, Nat?” I asked her.
She snorted. “The fuck you asking me for?”
I rolled my eyes. “Damn bitch, I’m just asking for advice.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re asking for permission.”
“Permission to do what?”
Natalie just stared at me. Dammit. We’d known each other for too long for me to try and play stupid with her ass.
“Okay!” I threw my hands up in the air. “Would it be wrong if I went after Seamus myself rather than simply sending this information over to Andrew and letting him take care of it?”
Natalie shook her head and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket. I glared at her as she pulled one out and placed it in her mouth. She quirked an eyebrow at me, daring me to say something as she lit it. She knew I wouldn’t, I’d been the one to give her the first cigarette she’d ever tried over ten years ago,
she always told me it was my fault that she was addicted to the things now. So I kept my mouth closed whenever she smoked in front of me. Even if I had given them up myself.
“Girl, we’ve been running Baltimore long before you took up with this white boy,” she said, blowing out a stream of smoke. “I mean I get it. The dick must be good. I mean he got your nose wide open and shit.”
“Oh chick…” I shivered. “He got exceptional tongue game too.”
“Word?”
I nodded and bit my lip. We stared at each other for a minute before we burst out laughing. “I mean, he acts like my pussy is his favorite meal. Appetizer, soup, salad, entrée, and dessert.”
“And he just can’t get enough, huh?” Natalie asked.
“No, he cannot,” I agreed.
Natalie nodded. “Francesco is like that.”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “You givin’ the Italian some of that good-good?”
Natalie shrugged. “Girl, I was laying in bed one night and Miss Sasha was hot, wet, and practically purring, and my B.O.B. just wasn’t hitting it. So I called him over.” Her eyes slid closed and I giggled as she sucked on her cigarette like it was a dick. “Bitch he walked into my house, pulled my panties off, picked me up so my thighs were on his shoulders, held me up against the wall and ate Miss Sasha until he changed her name to Destiny.”
“Bitch!” I laughed and threw a pencil at her. We collapsed into a fit of giggles, not stopping even when Michele walked into the room.
“What the hell are you heifers in here cackling about?” she asked crossing her arms.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and shared an amused glance with Natalie. “Italian cuisine.”
Natalie snorted and snuffed out the butt of her cigarette, before turning to face Michele. “How’s it going Baby Momma?”
Michele sniffed. “Shut up cow.”
“Hey now,” I said sternly. “Let’s focus.” I lifted up the file Natalie had brought over. “So Natalie gave us the information about the shooters. Seamus is behind it all. I’m trying to figure out if we turn it over to Andrew and the Irish or if we handle it ourselves.”
