Page 28 of Dark Breaker
I wasn’t really planning on touching myself, but as soon as the cool water hits my skin, I can’t help but think about when I dove into the pool and rescued Rosa from her exes. I remember the feel of her warm body against my wet side, her tiny little fingers hanging onto my bicep as if for dear life…
In the blink of an eye I’m harder than a steel rod. I grab my thick shaft and start jerking my hand up and down, occasionally massaging the bulb with my thumb at the top of each motion. I close my eyes and imagine Rosa kneeling docilely before me, sucking me off. I tell her to take it all in, all the way to the base of my shaft, and she obeys without question. Then I grab the back of her head, pressing my hands into her wet hair, and begin fucking her face. Hard. I like this pliant, docile version of her in my mind. Even if I know it’s not the real Rosa.
While release isn’t that far away, I pause, deciding to try something different. I imagine her how she really is: fighting me every step of the way, talking back to me, flashing me those angry glares. I imagine her violently jerking me off, scowling at me the whole time. She teases me, pulling away, and when I try to grab her she dodges me, only to grip my shaft again and lick it with her deft tongue. To my surprise this version of her makes me cum exceedingly fast. Interesting. I guess I prefer the she-devil in her when it comes to sex.
When I’m done, I lean against the shower wall, feeling completely at ease. I’ve gotten her out of my system. Good. I can finally concentrate on my work again. I plan to push her to the back of my mind until the wedding day. I’ll try to get as much work finished as I possibly can, because I doubt I’ll get anything done for months after we’re married. Thankfully, I only have to see her one more time before the wedding—assuming I can resist stalking her. And that one time would be during the fundraiser. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll even go.
I smile slyly, feeling my cock grow hard again.
Of course I’m fucking going.
* * *
On Monday morningNicolo calls me. “The Tunisians struck again.”
“Fuck,” I tell him. “What did they do now?”
“They badly beat the foreman of our Sea Wind site,” Nicolo responds. “You know Donato right? Doesn’t look like he’s going to pull through.”
“Shit.” The Jackal was getting bolder.
“Apparently they didn’t like the little visit my men paid them,” Nicolo adds.
“Did your men kill any of them?” I ask.
“Not that I know of,” Nicolo replies. “Though I did tell you they’d bust in some heads, and that’s precisely what they did. So what do we do now? Should we tell pa?”
“No,” I tell him. I want to deal with this myself, show my father I can lead this business. Besides, he’ll only give in to their demands, I’m sure of it. “Hire a new foreman, first of all. Maybe move someone from another project temporarily, as the Sea Wind is our priority.”
“Done,” Nicolo says. “And what about the Tunisians?”
“I’ll deal with them,” I tell him.
“Are you going to visit the Jackal?” Nicolo asks.
“No,” I answer. “If I enter his den, I doubt I’ll be getting out alive.”
I hear Nicolo’s relieved sigh. “Good. Because you know I wouldn’t let you go alone, which means my head would be on the line as well. So what, then? It’s a bit early to be starting a war, isn’t it? Unless you think the Morettis and Amatos are already game.”
“Not yet,” I tell him. “I’d say give it a couple of weeks after the wedding.” I pause. “I’ll leave a message for the Jackal. One he can’t ignore.”
“You’re going to burn down one of his strip clubs aren’t you?” Nicolo sounds eager.
“Not quite,” I tell him. “I’ll let you know. See you, brother.”
With that I hang up.
A part of me still wants to toy with the Amatos and Morettis, if only to get revenge against my father for forcing me into this marriage, but I can’t really do that now, not until the Tunisians are dealt with. After that, we’ll see if I still feel like tipping off the police to their cocaine shipments at our port. Honor probably won’t let me. But who knows. It depends on how much Rosa pisses me off in the weeks to come.
I’ve had some people tailing the Jackal. I know he’s seeing a stripper who works at one of his clubs. He never visits her outside the club of course, but she’s the perfect person I can use to get to him. When you want to leave a message with a mafia don, you do it through his family, and if he doesn’t have any, than those he’s intimate with.
I drive to her apartment near the eastern side of Palermo. I find a free parking stall a few blocks away and after taking it, I open the globe box and grab my lock pick tools. Then I exit my vehicle, a simple Fiat today. I’m wearing a black suit. I keep my fedora pulled low and walk with my head bowed.
As I head toward her building, cicadas chitter in the background, while the sounds of speeding vehicles and car horns drift from the main road behind me. The wailing siren of an ambulance momentarily cuts through everything—the ululating sound vaguely reminding me of Tarzan's yell.
Overhead, bright green birds dart in diamond formations between the apartments, their loud squawks echoing from the closely-packed buildings. On the sidewalk, people keep to the shade provided by the overhanging balconies—that is, until they see me and move out of my path. The shade is only for me.
I go to the locked main entrance and scan the occupant list. I see the stripper’s last name. I start randomly pressing the intercom buttons next to each apartment number, though I avoid hers—I don’t want to tip her off.