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Chapter Eighteen

Tino sneered at his trembling wife as she clutched the bed sheet to her body.

She’d become skin and bones and barely worth fucking anymore.

He preferred a woman with sexy curves and tits he could hold in his hands.

Not Maria’s sorry excuse for breasts. If she didn’t have nipples, she wouldn’t have breasts.

And she just lay there, unmoving, while he’d pumped inside her and shot his wad.

He fisted his hand, barely resisting the urge to plow it into her face again. She deserved everything he’d just done to her.

The stupid bitch lied to me .

He grabbed his slacks from the floor. His own wife had stood by while that other bitch emptied out his safe. Then Maria tried to cover for the woman.

His lip curled with satisfaction. Neither his wife nor the bitch knew anything about the tiny, high-tech camera he’d embedded in the back wall of the safe. Anytime the safe door opened, the camera was triggered and he received notification—and video—on his cell phone.

He shoved his legs into his slacks. By the time he’d hauled ass back to the house it was too late.

He’d just missed the thief getting away with his money.

There’d been close to a hundred grand in that safe.

Uncrackable , my ass . He’d have to pay a visit to the lying, dead man walking who’d sold him that piece of shit.

That guy’s days were numbered, but he would get his money back.

As of ten minutes ago, he knew who’d taken it.

Gina Perot .

He watched the recording three times before he recognized her from the fundraiser.

The same woman with FBI Special Agent Jack Gates .

That motherfucker . Confirming she wasn’t an agent had been easy enough.

He hadn’t quite figured out what she was to Gates , but from the way he’d been holding her, he’d bet his ass the guy was fucking her.

I’d fuck her.

He sat on the bed and pulled up the video again on his phone.

At first, the image was hazy green. Until Maria had flipped on the lights.

Gina fell backward onto one of the bags of cash.

The camera had caught her in profile, showcasing one hell of a hot body and a set of perfect tits beneath that skintight ninja suit.

His dick hardened to steel just thinking about her. He snorted. Unlike his wife, this chick would fight him, and that turned him on more. Soon , he’d know everything there was to know about Gina Perot . Thanks to Maria , he had her phone number.

The camera had a wide enough angle lens to record everything. Including the part where Gina wrote down her number and gave it to his wife. A few well-placed smacks and Maria had spilled everything.

His upper lip began twitching uncontrollably. The bitch actually thought she could convince Maria to leave him. That wasn’t going to happen. Ever .

Glaring at his wife, he ground his teeth. “ You’ll never leave me.” She’d rolled onto her side, facing away from him. He lunged for her shoulder, forcing her onto her back. “ Do you hear me?”

“ Yes ,” she cried, nodding as tears spilled from her swollen eye sockets and making her look so hideous he couldn’t understand what he ever saw in her.

He raised his arm, and she cringed. His anger melted away as an idea came to him. He unfurled his fingers. Maybe Maria wasn’t so worthless after all.

Grabbing his phone, he cued up Rocco’s number. “ Rocco ,” he said when the man answered. “ Grab Meat and Psycho and get to my place. We’ve got plans to make.” Before Franco returned from Florida for the big meeting this Saturday .

He stood in front of the mirror, buttoning his shirt, and he was actually grinning.

By this time tomorrow, he’d have it all.

He’d capture the thief who’d been ripping them off and get his money back, something that would elevate him in the eyes of the Commission .

Then —and this was the icing on the cake—he’d have Gates’s woman.

He’d fuck her until she begged for mercy, then leave her naked, bullet-riddled body in a cornfield. Maybe the same one he’d dumped that agent in. After all, he wasn’t nicknamed “the Beast ” for nothing.