AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Shit, you seemed gone.” She snorted. “Pussy-whipped for sure, and you haven’t even gotten any pussy.”
“Vespa,” he warned, more exasperated than annoyed.
“Whatever, truth is truth.” She held up the list. “This hit comes first, right? Any qualms with me ending things now?”
“None.” Montrell cracked his knuckles as anticipation built. Most of the Albanians had slithered their way back from Vegas. He’d kept the Coronellas’ attacks up enough to keep them on edge and annoyed, but he had hesitated to finish things after his marriage talk with Beatrice. His delay had finally paid off.
She wanted blood. Needed it. That was a need he could satisfy.
Vespa’s hand slid over the handle of one of the pistols she carried. She carried them openly around the estate, but when they left the grounds, she would hide the dual holster straps under a suit jacket. She frowned as she rotated the opposite shoulder, and he worried that the injury was still bothering her despite her taking off the sling. Vespa wasn’t the reckless type, though. Not unless it came to him.
“No more getting shot,” he told her.
“Agreed. That sucked.” She grimaced as she shook the arm, limbering up. “It’s fine. Don’t be a worrywart.”
“I’d be shot a lot more if you weren’t around,” Montrell admitted, shifting closer to her to bump her good shoulder.
Her arms dropped, and she bumped him back. “That’s for sure. I wouldn’t have been shot by that Bratva if your big bulk would have found even a little cover.”
“I’m coming with you this time, too,” he said, letting her next shove rocked him back on his heels a little.
Vespa rolled her eyes. “Dammit. Then I guess there’ll be no sneaking around. That’s fine. A blaze of glory it is.”
“That’s how you prefer things, anyway,” he said with a laugh, following her out of the room.
“True enough. The trick will be keeping a few of them alive.” Vespa moved to the chosen capos to finalize the hit.
It had taken some time, but they’d finally weeded out the older Coronellas that had been more set in their ways. His father’s ways, to be exact. Montrell’s father had been a racist, misogynistic prick who hated his son and all women, not just his wife. Some of the capos he’d left behind had felt the same way after Montrell murdered him.
Montrell had thought they would come after him. They’d seen his enforcer as the weaker target. That had been a mistake. Vespa had taken out the men who would have targeted her in the first year. It was the ones who hadn’t been open about their disgust in Montrell appointing a woman as his right hand who had lingered.
It had always been Vespa’s goal to be good enough to remain at his side, ever since they were the outcast kids together, but he hadn’t made her his right hand out of sentiment. It was because she was more lethal and brutal than any other made man he’d encountered. That she had a heart for justice as well was something they kept mainly between the two of them.
He watched his boys following her orders and felt content all over again. It had taken most of the past six years, but he’d been honest when he’d told Beatrice that she could trust his family. He’d been ruthless in building that trust. The first twenty-five years of his life, with family trying to kill him, had been more than enough.
Now, as they headed out to obliterate the Albanians, he knew it was because each and every man wanted to be there with him. Their assault on the estate was thorough and brutal. They only found one of the men from Beatrice’s list there, though, which was a disappointment.
Vespa held a gun to the head of Beatrice’s former mother-in-law. The woman was darkly beautiful, but her eyes held no warmth. They hardened as she cursed in Albanian.
Montrell couldn’t understand a damn word of it. “I doubt the other two are here, Vespa. Leave her be, and we’ll finish the plan.” They’d factored in the need to hit the warehouses as well. That was the only way to wipe out every trace of the family.
The Albanian woman spat at him. Her wad of saliva fell short, curdling his stomach as it plopped on the floor between them.
“That cunt did this!” she screamed in English. “I told my son no good would come from marrying her. He should have murdered her long ago instead of poisoning himself between her legs.”
Vespa stared at the woman in disgust. “Shit, why wasn’t this bitch on the torture list?”
The woman screamed as she lunged at Vespa, pulling a knife.
Vespa didn’t hesitate to shoot her. The Albanian matriarch fell to the ground, dead.
The man they had tied up started cursing.
Montrell wished he could kill him in that moment, but he knew Beatrice needed the kill more.
They set fire to the estate before heading to the first of two warehouses to finish things.
Montrell had thought he’d feel more satisfied that it was over. Instead, he just felt tired and unfulfilled as he followed the path to the outbuilding on the Coronella estate grounds.
