Page 35 of Caruso

He rolls his eyes. “As I said, we can take him with us and prolong the enjoyment, or you do what you came here for.”

Taylor glances around her former home, and resignation lights her eyes as she nods.

“He’s not worth the blood on your upholstery. We’ll end this now.”

“We?” Giorgio’s voice is loaded with disappointment as she hisses, “Give me that rag, Giorgio.”

The fact that she commands my brother amuses me,and I’m even more impressed when he hands it over with no question.

She turns her attention to Tommaso. “Fetch me his bottle of alcohol.”

Tommaso says nothing and moves to the shelf by the window where a near-empty bottle of whiskey is clinging onto life.

Taylor sighs as she grasps it in her hand and spills what’s left of the alcohol onto the rag. Then she turns to me and says simply, “Do you have a light, please, Matteo?”

Giorgio’s smile almost splits his lips as I nod, reaching in my inside pocket and pulling out my lighter.

Taylor’s eyes shine as she stands before Carl and says softly, “Get used to the burn because it’s hotter in hell.”

His yell is soon cut short as she lights the rag and pushes it into his mouth and then steps back as his screams are muffled by the burning flame that ignites his body in a slow burn that is fascinating to watch.

“Fuck! I’m in love.”

Giorgio almost comes in his pants as we watch Carl Bridge cremate before our eyes and as his screams die down and his burning skin becomes an unbearable stench, Taylor turns on her heels and heads straight out of the door, closely followed by three men who now won’t ever let her go.

Chapter Fifteen

Taylor

Iam surprisingly calm. Call it closure if you like. I had no idea it would be this easy to take a life in cold blood. I was wrong. It was the easiest thing I have ever done, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. His abuse has been ingrained in my soul for far too long now. I ran from him in fear, and yet seeing him today — weak, shattered, broken and yet still clinging onto any power he once had was the closure I needed. He was pathetic. A mere grain of sand in a full ocean. Irrelevant. He’s gone. Thank fuck for that.

The guys follow me as we leave the house to burn.Once again, we take our places in the cars, and they don’t hang around. The sound of an explosion rocks the neighborhood as we go.

“Fuck!” I turn and stare at the place I once called home, and yet it never was, not in the normal sense of the word. It was my prison, and now I am free.

“I’m sorry, Matteo.” I sigh as I turn and leave the burning image as a memory.

“What are you sorry about?”

His voice is husky, and for some reason I squirm on my seat, wondering why killing a man turns me on so much.

“There may be witnesses, who would report your license plate to the cops.”

“What license plate?”

I turn and his eyes gleam in the darkened interior.

“We don’t have any, and as there are no cameras—we checked, by the way—nobody can pin that on us.”

“But a neighbor, they may have recorded it on their phone.”

“Then it’s fortunate we know their location and my men warned them that the next person we call on would be them if they discussed anything regarding today.”

He leans back and, to my surprise, reaches for my hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”