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“Why would you care about a little whore like that? It was a job. Her father hired me.” He spat.
The masked man opened the shears and followed through with his threat. The tied man howled in pain and jerked against his restraints. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Well, this is personal, not business.” Drake sneered beneath the mask. “Say another word about her, and you’ll lose another appendage.”
“What the fuck?” he cried. “I won’t.”
“That’s right. You won’t hurt another woman again. Taking a violent predator like you off the streets is a service to the city. Now tell me, how many girls have you hurt?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“How many?” Drake broke the fingers of the man’s right hand one by one. “Don’t make me ask again.”
“Hundreds?”
Drake picked the fallen phallus from the floor and grabbed Carlo’s chin. The large man clamped his paled, trembling lips as tight as he could and thrashed around, but Drake pried the struggling man’s mouth open and shoved the shriveled cock in. He forced it down his throat, making the man choke on it.
“Are you guessing or confessing? This is for the hundreds.”
Drake didn’t need to hear anything else. He pulled his 9mm from his holster and pressed it against Turelli’s temple.
“Now it’s your turn to beg.”
He pulled the penis from the man’s mouth. A string of saliva connected the man to his own appendage as he sputtered and spat. Drake pressed the muzzle harder against the man’s head.
“Beg, pezzo di merda.”
Carlo’s voice was hoarse as he begged. “Please. Please… Don’t do this. I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t sorry. Even without a dick, you’re still a predator. Your sins are unforgivable.” Drake gestured to the TV again. “She lives in the aftermath of what you’ve done. I will avenge her and every other girl you’ve hurt.”
“Who are you?”
“I. Am. Drago.”
A single gunshot rang out in the den. Blood and brain matter splattered the wall behind the armchair. Drake shoved the phallus back into the corpse’s mouth. Turelli had gotten off light, as far as he was concerned.
***
Chapter Twenty
Alessandra’s head was splitting, and she groaned as she stirred. Her vision was foggy, and her mouth was full of cotton as she ran her dry tongue over cracked lips. Her mother-in-law’s face moved a millimeter as she gasped in surprise.
“Thank God! I’ll get Drake.” Bitsy Walker patted her hand and was out of the room in a flash before Alessandra was fully coherent.
The room came into focus, and Alessandra found herself in bed at home. Her little heart-shaped jewelry dish was on the nightstand next to the silver-framed picture she loved of her and Drake at the zoo. The closed armoire across from the bed housed the television that they watched while curled up in bed together.
Alessandra was tangled in white sheets with a white duvet across her lap. She had teased Drake about the sterile hotel-type linens and shopped for new sheets for the California king-size bed to add color and personality to the room.
A disheveled Drake rushed into the room and straight to the bedside. “Alessandra? Thank Christ! Are you all right? How are you feeling?” He moved to take her hand, but she yanked it away.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat.
“Take it easy, dolcezza. The doctor said disorientation would be normal. You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”
Drake’s brown eyes were bloodshot as though he hadn’t slept in days. His wavy hair was greasy and fell into his unshaven face, and his crumpled clothes made him look as though he hadn’t showered either.
“What happened?”
