Page 26 of Caruso (Vegas Mafia #3)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Giorgio

T he fight has sharpened my senses and given me a huge shot of adrenaline that I really didn’t need.

Taylor is sufficient for that. The certainty of what will happen when we return to The Artemis is weighing heavily on my mind.

I have waited so long for this moment. Longer than I have known her.

Always waiting, never daring to dream that my perfect woman would ever find me.

Nobody is more surprised than I am at the power this woman holds over us.

We shut down our hearts many years ago when we packed up and left our hometown.

Vowing never to drop our guard, be ruthless in business—legitimate business because crime has a habit of stripping you of everything that makes you human.

If we considered that walking away was enough, we were fools.

The baggage merely turned up unwelcome on our doorstep and set up residence in our new lives.

Until Taylor. Until she killed a man and then another in as many days.

Standing before her fear with no regard for the law, just the one of survival.

In that moment, we were lost forever, and we all recognized that. Even Tommaso, who we feared for—still fear for because we may have trailed broken hearts with us to Vegas but he left his soul with her .

I kiss Taylor to wipe the memory. To replace it with something good—hope even. She is an antidote to madness or the creator of a new one. I’m not sure which, but I’m going to find out—today.

As I break away, I stare fiercely into her eyes and growl, “If he’s not dead, it’s time to set our guest free.”

“How will you explain the fact that he has no hand?”

“I won’t.” I grin. “He won’t talk; he’s getting off lightly after all.”

“Lightly.” She rolls her eyes. “Nothing is light about this situation, Giorgio, and if you consider otherwise, then you are more fucked up than I first thought.”

“Aren’t we all, angel?”

I wink as I grasp her hand and head off at speed toward The Artemis.

We enter my world as if I am not covered in blood, attracting curious stares from the customers who pour through my doors in pursuit of their dreams. I am a walking advertisement for their nightmares, and as Taylor grips my hand, she glares at anyone who stares a little too long, warning them not to be concerned about something they know nothing about.

It feels good walking beside her. The King and Queen among their subjects.

I notice Simon talking to one of the security guards, and he nods with respect as we pass.

Matteo likes the guy. I have no reason to doubt his judgment, and I appreciate the way he shows no emotion and doesn’t react to the sight of his boss covered in blood, holding the hand of the woman we kidnapped.

Taylor is free to leave if she likes; hell, we’d even pay her for the privilege, but this is not what this is about.

The situation we find ourselves in is wanting her to stay.

With us, a family if you like. A fucked up deranged family who could take on the world and set fire to the rules, replacing right with wrong and accepting that sometimes wrong is the only path worth taking.

Three men shouldn’t share one woman, but it will come as easily to us as breathing. Because it’s Taylor. The woman who broke a man’s neck and gained our attention. The woman who sliced a man’s cock off and set fire to his soul—literally.

In that moment, four souls shot up in flames as we faced the fact she now owned ours and it was up to us to persuade her to stay. To save us from falling into an abyss we are so far down we have merely tugged her in after us.

We reach the apartment, and I strip off my t-shirt, the man’s blood decorating my skin like war paint.

Taylor’s eyes widen as she stares at my body, and I love the lust sparkling in her astonishing gray eyes.

“Follow me.”

I command her as a slave would command a mistress, expecting repercussions but testing the sense of power it gives me however fleeting it may be.

We head toward my playroom, and as we enter, the darkness wraps me in comfort, the chill in the air calming my heated blood.

Oscar’s groans wash away any doubt. This is my domain. Where I ground myself, make sense of it all and calm my rage. I belong here, dealing out retribution to men who deserve every slice of their skin and removal of their body parts. Scum, bastards and low-lifes who deserve their cruel ending.

I tell myself it helps—it never will.

I turn my attention to my guest, the darkness settling over any sense of moral decency I possess and smothering it, desensitizing my emotions to deal with a man who deserves his fate.

“Did you miss me, Oscar?”

I grip his face and force him to look at me.

“Please–” He starts to beg—they always do.

“I need medical attention.”

“It’s true; you do.” I glance at his broken wrist and sigh. “But I can’t allow you to leave without honoring my promise.”

The air stills as he begs, “Please, no, I won’t tell, I–”

I waste no more time. I have more important things on my mind right now, and with one slice of the blade, I cut his hand clean off.

His screams bounce from every surface, but I have no time to bathe in his pain and instead cast my eye to his hand lying in a pool of blood at his feet. He is sobbing, weak. The blood that is dripping from his body is taking his life with it, and that’s not my plan.

He will be spared as a warning to other scum who believe they can head inside the doors of my hotel and steal from us.

Men who buy young girls and use them for their corrupt pleasure with no sense of moral decency.

No compassion. No shits to give for the young lives they batter as they ruin them forever.

Taylor is silent, her curiosity reaching out to me, and I say over my shoulder, “This man leaves here with his life today. It’s a life that won’t be worth living, and he will wish I had ended it while I had the chance.”

I step back, noting my attention has drifted from this man onto something way more pleasurable.

I text for my team to remove him from my life. To kick him into the gutter, where no doubt a passerby will alert the authorities. He won’t talk because if he does, he knows I’m coming for him, and next time I won’t be so generous.

I pocket my phone and hiss, “You are free to go, Oscar but your mind will never be free of the promise that if I hear from you again, hear your name mentioned in casual conversation, receive any visits concerning you, or even think about you for a second—I will be the orchestrator of your death which will be long, unpleasant and painful. My record is thirty days. I’m keen to test that limit, and if I have cause to catch up with you, I promise I’ll go for double that. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

His voice is weak, almost gone, and I jerk my head toward the door.

“Come, angel, our work here is done.”

As I pass Taylor, she is gazing at Oscar with anger flashing from her eyes, and I wonder what she’s thinking right now.

I’m interested when she shrugs off my hand and heads to the spot I just vacated and hisses, “Men like you don’t deserve chances in life.

You took away a little girl’s soul and terrified it.

Losing your hand is a small price to pay for that because men like you never learn; they move on to the next opportunity. ”

She is an impressive sight as she stands with her hands on her hips like the warrior queen she is and says casually, “May I borrow your knife, Giorgio?”

I say nothing and hand her the blade, interested in seeing what she has in mind.

She steps closer to him and with all the concentration of a surgeon, she drags the blade over his forehead, carefully, deeply and with no regard for his whimpers of pain.

When she steps back, she wipes the blade on her thigh, and I almost come in my pants as she smiles, turning to stare at me with a satisfied smile.

“Now there is no getting away from his crime.”

I gaze with admiration at the letters she has carved into his face.

RAPIST

This time she reaches for my hand, and as I follow her from the room, I fall a little harder for the woman who murdered her way into our hearts.