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“It’s funny that in all the stories of the great Santino Sinacore—never once did he ever allow himself to be seduced—and they sent the best of the best after him, women who’ve trained for years. And all it took was one car ride to Home Depot.”
“M-maybe he just wanted sex.”
“Maybe Home Depot’s full of magic.” Phoenix chuckled. “Oh, and next time you kiss him in the middle of the lighting section, make sure the cameras are off. You’re lucky I deal in secrets…” He patted me on the back.
Crushing embarrassment hit me square in the chest. “Yup, got it.”
“Good girl.” He winked. “Almost done with Nixon; he’s going easy on him if that makes you feel better.”
I turned back toward Santino just in time to see Nixon take the bat to Santino’s shins. He roared in pain and fell to his arms and knees, panting.
“Ten seconds,” Tex called out.
Nixon raised the bat, then lowered it and whispered something in Santino’s ear. Both turned to me.
Santino looked back at Nixon and nodded once.
Nixon threw the bat to the ground, and his turn ended.
Santino got to his shaky feet.
“Sergio, you’re up,” Tex called.
Sergio took a step into the light, knife in hand. “I formally request a substitution.”
“On what grounds?” Tex asked.
“Her.” Sergio pointed the knife at me. “I think she should be the one to carry out the last punishment. If he wants her so bad, he’ll let her cut him, and in return, she proves her loyalty to the Family, to us, and to him. It’s a win-win. Besides, the women should be as strong if not stronger than the men. I would like my substitution to reflect that.”
Me?
I almost choked.
“Raise your hand if you approve,” Tex called around the room.
It was unanimous.
Sergio stepped toward me and handed me the hilt of the massive knife. It was pointed, sharp, and around eight inches long, with the Abandonato crest on the hilt wrapped around it in the shape of someone’s grip.
Santino stood to his full height facing me under the flicker of the white light. I felt like I was going mad watching him standing there, bleeding from his mouth, his nose, his eyes… never once wavered though; it was like I was all he could see.
The blue depths of them focused in on me and only me.
He reached out and grabbed my wrist, the one holding the knife; I was surprised he had so much strength.
His black shirt was wet with blood, his jeans hid bruises on his legs, I was sure of it, and his jaw was swollen from getting punched, not to mention the fact that I was pretty sure he’d been shot earlier in the attack upstairs, though it clearly went straight through his side.
How did he even have blood left?
“Start the time,” Santino snapped.
“In three, two, one, go!” Tex called.
I just stood there like an idiot while he held my wrist. “Cut me.”
“What?” I started to shake.
“Part two of training.” He leaned forward until his forehead collided with mine. “Never be afraid to strike down both enemy and friend. So very often, they’re one and the same. So you take this knife, and you mark me wherever you want.”
