Page 209 of Bitter Poetry

Grigor shoves the gun harder against Ettore’s head, forcing him a step back. “We need to have a discussion, Ettore. We need to renegotiate our deal. And if you can do so to my satisfaction, I will remove the gun from your head, and you may take your prisoners and do what the fuck you want with them… Or you can have a blood bath. But make no mistake, it will be your limited grey matter that hits this warehouse floor first.”

Sweat trickles down the center of my spine. My finger applies tension to the trigger as I share a brief look with Leon.

Is this the fucking deal going south? Or is it the Pakhan improvising to protect his investment with us and ensure the bloodbath doesn’t unfold.

“You have a dozen men. I have them more than covered,” Grigor continues. “Tell your men to lower their weapons.”

No one moves.

“Do it,” Ettore snarls. “Lower them.”

“On the floor,” the Pakhan insists.

Ettore’s eyes bulge.

“I don’t trust you or your men right now,” Grigor continues. “Tell them to put them on the fucking floor And we will have our chat.”

“On the floor,” Ettore hisses.

Around the warehouse, weapons clatter against concrete. The Russian soldiers surge forward to gather them up and round up Ettore’s men.

“What are you doing?” Ettore demands, his eyes showing a lot of white as he strains to see what’s going on.

I can feel Carmela’s fingers twisting into the fabric at the back of my jacket, and I reach back to take her hand in mine, keeping her behind me until I’m sure the danger is passed.

Grigor flips his gun in his hand and whips Ettore across the temple. His brief cry of agony is deeply satisfying as he falls to his knees.

Grigor’s bodyguards drag Ettore to his feet.

“His men are yours to do with as you will,” Grigor says to us.

Leon nods to Mateo. “Round them up.”

Ettore roars, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against the two huge Russian soldiers. “You played me, Grigor? You dare to fucking play me?”

Grigor steps up to the former Don. He taps Ettore’s cheek, his smile cold.

“You will enjoy my Russian hospitality. And I will enjoy watching Leon Barone tear your empire down.”

CHAPTER 62

CHRISTIAN

This day has been a long time coming. I feel like shit, but the euphoria of seeing Ettore put in his fucking place makes it all worthwhile.

“Christian!”

A flash darts around Dante and rushes me. Carmela drops to her knees before me. Her hand reaches out for me… and stops. Tears are streaming down her face as she gently cups the side of my face.

I consider making a quip about it being just a flesh wound, but she might not be in the right frame of mind for my questionable humor.

“It looks worse than it is.”It really doesn’t.

“I don’t believe you. I love you. I’m sorry.”

Dante and Leon are at my side.

Fuck. Did she just say she loves me?