Page 14 of A Touch of Fate

I burst out laughing. “Your jiggle is very impressive. Maybe we can find you a match at my wedding.”

“You focus on you. I’ll eventually find someone.”

“We caught a Camorrista. He was trying to sabotage some of the gaming machines in my clubs,” Renato said as he entered my father’s and my office in the back of our biggest casino ship.

In the beginning, the gentle sway of the ship had been unnerving, but by now, I was used to spending part of my day on water.

Gambling and whores were the golden combination when it came to making money, which was why Renato swam in it.

Dad peered up from a stack of papers with the forged receipts of our bars from our head accountant. His eyes met mine. “You can question him.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. Whenever a Camorrista was caught near or in Minneapolis, I made sure I got my hands on him. It wasn’t the same as torturing Remo Falcone, but it was better than nothing.

“He’s mimicking our tactic,” I muttered as I jumped into Renato’s vintage Jaguar.

“Because it’s a good one.”

“Because he’s mocking us,” I contradicted, feeling a familiar fury burn in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Remo Falcone.

Over the years, our war with the Camorra had become less active.

Too many soldiers had lost their lives since the war had begun.

Dante preferred to hurt the Camorra’s business nowadays and no longer tried to kill the Falcone brothers.

Of course, if we managed to get our hands on one of them again, that might change.

I sometimes wondered what I would do if I ran across Remo Falcone.

I wanted nothing more than to kill him for what he’d done, for what he’d taken from me.

Unfortunately, I knew by killing him, I’d hurt Serafina.

She wouldn’t magically stop loving him because I killed him.

Worse, she’d probably romanticize his whole existence even more than before.

She had forgiven him for kidnapping her, something I could never do and could not understand.

Sometimes I thought I’d kill him anyway. I’d kill him for Enea, Arlo, and Domenico. I owed it to them. They had given their lives for me and my sister. Remo had murdered them, yet they hadn’t been avenged.

“Did you listen to a word I just said?”

I gave Renato a look. He parked the car in front of an Outfit warehouse where we kept bar and restaurant supplies, but in its underbelly, cells for questioning had been set up.

“How are wedding preparations coming along?”

“Good?”

Renato snorted. “You have no clue.”

I shrugged. “I have more important things on my mind than matching napkins to candles.” I got out of the car, and Renato joined me soon after.

He grinned. “What about your bride? You never talk to me about her. Have you made any progress? Are you excited about the wedding night?”

I cocked an eyebrow. Renato and I were used to chatting about our affairs and one-night stands. He obviously thought I’d keep up that kind of talk about my future wife.

“With that face, she’s a ten out of ten. The wheelchair makes me really curious about certain positions, though—”

I shoved him so hard he slammed against the side of his car, then got in his face. “We’re best friends, and I’d die for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for disrespecting my fiancée. So stop talking about her like that.”

Renato raised his palms. “You’re right.”

I took a step back and blew out a breath.

He was right. Emma was incredibly beautiful, and if I allowed myself to think about our wedding night, I’d be eager as hell, but my mind was elsewhere, and right now, Emma wasn’t mine yet.

She wasn’t even of age yet, so I simply wouldn’t entertain those distracting thoughts.

We entered the warehouse after entering a code into a panel, then crossed one of the aisles to the end of the vast hall until we reached a flap door.

A steep staircase led to a basement. The flickering halogen lights stung my eyes as we followed a guard’s pointing finger toward a cell to our right.

Inside, we found a no-name from the Camorra.

Some lowly soldier from Kansas City. It was the Camorra city closest to our territory.

Several years ago, we’d killed the Underboss there and tried to kill the new one too. Now things were less potent.

Only men like the one in front of me died nowadays. We contented ourselves with pissing each other off. Maybe one day, I’d get the chance to kill another Camorrista of importance.

The Camorrista in front of me sat on the floor and stared up at me with prideful and stubborn eyes.

He was trying to make his Capo proud, no doubt.

Torture would break him like it broke all of them.

All but Remo Falcone. Thinking of how I’d tortured him to within an inch of his life was still one of the fucking best moments of my life, followed by the fucking worst when my twin sister saved him.

I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over a hook on the wall, then began to roll up my sleeves.

The man sneered up at me. “I bet you can’t sleep at night because you dream about how Remo sticks his cock into your sister’s holes.”

I stalked toward him, grabbed him by the throat, and dragged him to his feet. Renato grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back.

“Your Capo would cut off your tongue and stick it in your ass for speaking those words.”

The man swallowed, but he simply returned my gaze.

“Don’t worry, I’m not getting anywhere near your hairy asshole. I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

“Unless it’s a pretty lady,” Renato said with a grin.

“And cutting off your tongue will have to wait until later. First, we need to have a nice long chat, don’t you agree?

” I pulled out my knife, cocked an eyebrow, then dug the tip into the skin beneath his eye, drawing blood.

“I asked you a question, and from now on, I expect answers, or you’ll lose all those parts of your body you don’t need for our conversation. ”

Blood trickled down his cheek as my knife sank deeper into his skin. He gritted his teeth, wincing. “Fuck you,” he ground out.

I smirked. “Not the answer I wanted.” I cut off his earlobe. I needed to pace myself. Starting with his eyeballs posed the risk of too much blood loss.

He let out a choked cry and struggled in Renato’s hold.

“I hope you’ll be more talkative now.” He didn’t say anything. I tossed the earlobe to the ground and picked up my phone, calling one of the guards. “Bring the rats.”

The eyes of the Camorrista filled with disgust and panic.

The guard dropped off a transport box with three rats.

I opened it, then tossed the earlobe to the ground.

Immediately, a fight between the three rats broke out over the piece of meat.

They hadn’t been fed since yesterday and hadn’t had any protein in several days.

I gave our captive a pleasant smile. “They’re very hungry. I’m sure they won’t mind if you keep up your muteness.”

One of the rats scuttled over to us and climbed up the man’s leg. He began to freak out, trying to shake her off, his eyes going wide in disgust.

“Maybe this one didn’t get fed yesterday either,” I mused when the rat reached our captive’s shoulder and tried to reach the bleeding ear.

“Our pifferaio magico trained them well!” Renato said with a laugh.

He was referring to one of our guards who bred and trained rats, which was why we called him the pied piper of Hamelin.

Father had been reluctant to use rats for torture in the beginning as he found it tasteless, but now he saw their value.

Three hours later, the rats were well fed, and the Camorrista was near death.

His breathing was labored as I knelt beside him to end his miserable life in an act of mercy.

“Your sister is sucking Remo’s dick every day.

Maybe once he grows tired of her, he’ll kidnap your wife and teach her how to suck dick. ”

My fingers around the knife tightened, my pulse racing in my veins. I shoved to my feet. “Let the rats have him. It’ll take a few hours for him to bleed to death. They like their meat fresh.”

I walked out of the cell. Renato followed me and locked the door behind him.

“Want to grab a drink?”

I pulled a flask from my jacket and took a sip of vodka. “I have a drink with me, but I’d be up for a few more.”