Page 22 of Sin City Obsession (De Salvo Empire #1)
Chapter eleven
The Job
Alessa couldn’t fully believe she’d allowed Rocco to do that. Worse, it had been hot as hell and part of her had wanted to drop to her knees and lick him clean as a thank you. While the bitch who’d ruined her interrogation plans watched, of course.
She groaned and glared ahead at the unassuming box tucked under Emanuele’s arm.
Pivoting meant more risk. Pivoting required less planned, thought-out choices.
Pivoting was one of Alessa’s least favorite things to have to do in the middle of a job, but it had been necessary.
She was not going to delay the point of her journey to Las Vegas because some jealous, insecure bitch tossed out a suitcase.
Ugh.
“Alessa?” Rocco laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’re not even inside yet and you sound like you’re miserable. You okay?”
“I still want to kill her.” The words were past Alessa’s mouth before she realized they’d risen up from that dark, hateful place inside. There was no taking them back.
She was honestly not sure which male laughed first, only that the sound was briefly everywhere before Emanuele finally pulled open the door and held it for them. His eyes twinkled with continued amusement that he wisely kept to himself.
Rocco had no such compunction, and leaned in closer as they filed through the doorway.
His breath was hot over her ear. “You still can, beautiful. Carla and Cousin are being detained until the priority shit is handled.” His free arm looped around her as soon as the walkway widened and his next words washed over her heart the way his lips caressed her temple. “ You’re the priority.”
He meant her job. The mission she had been sent to handle. Alessa knew that, in her brain. But her heart … her heart had started sashaying down a very different path, very quickly.
She dragged in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and slowly exhaled. This was not the time to be thinking about impossible things. This was not the time to be thinking about anything at all beyond the orders she had last been given .
Find the person behind Ralph George and get them to surrender any claim to a debt or personal grudge against any member of the Richardson family, by whatever means necessary.
No one on the De Salvo side gave a shit about Wesley himself, but his daughter was one of them now. And that meant she was untouchable. That also meant Alessa’s real job was to remove any potential threat in a very permanent way.
Rocco stepped from her in order to flick on the lights in the next room, swathing the large, open space in an almost-white glow. “And here we are. Two chumps awaiting judgment.”
Alessa couldn’t help but smile at that.
More or less centered in the room, angled sideways to the only entrance, were both of her captives.
Their mouths were duct-taped, they were tied at the ankles, and their arms had both been wrenched behind them in order for their wrists to be tied while also securing each of them to the singular metal pole that ran from floor to ceiling.
A small laugh bubbled out of her. “A stripper pole?”
Rocco shrugged as Lou’s bleary, half-focused glare shifted their way. “It’s Vegas, what’d you expect?”
“All right!” Emanuele said, louder than was necessary, as he moved to one side of the room. The side the captives could more easily see. “Let’s get this puppy unboxed.”
One of the men attached to the pole made a sound of distress.
Alessa watched them for a moment, but their bindings appeared secure .
Gwathney certainly didn’t look like a man who saw a path of escape.
So she shifted her focus obligingly and watched as Rocco moved to join Emanuele. Emanuele had the brand-new, still-packaged cutlery on the floor and was sweeping a pocketknife through the tape.
Alessa bit back yet another sigh. It wasn’t that she couldn’t work with what she’d acquired.
It was that she’d gone to the trouble of requesting a nice repertoire of items, to give her a variety of methods, and yet she was being forced to operate with a block of kitchen knives, a pair of scissors, and whatever came in the tool kit Rocco had purchased.
He promised there was at least a hammer.
While the men were unboxing, Alessa pulled up her hair and evaluated the rest of the space.
Worn carpet square flooring, all one level.
Another door, off the wall to the left, partially open.
Two tall, narrow windows completely obscured by blackout drapes that appeared to have been sealed down the sides with rows of tightly placed nails.
The outer wall itself boasted something of a 3D effect, but Alessa recognized the raised fabric panels for what they were.
Modern-day soundproofing. She knew the house they were in didn’t have any close neighbors, as it resided in a less than desirable, outside-city-limits district. But the extra effort was smart.
One of her captives started making more noises of distress, so she refocused her attention on them .
Gwathney’s eyes were big and glossy and staring with mounting terror in the direction of the shiny new toys being set on display. As per her instructions, of course.
Alessa smiled and moved to crouch within both men’s field of view.
“Hi again, gentlemen. Are you comfortable? Have you missed me?” She looked between them, unsurprised by the hatred spewing from Lou’s eyes or the anger darkening the edges of Gwathney’s.
“Have we come to our senses, perhaps?” She raised both brows as if it were a genuine question and she might still be inclined to let this de-escalate into a civil conversation.
Gwathney made a sound that was distinctly non-agreeable.
“All right-y then.” Alessa straightened, made a show of stretching her back and arms, and turned partially around in order to glance toward the other men in the room. “Emanuele, could you please grab me the other thing from the car when you’re done there?”
Emanuele snapped the carboard—already flattened—that had previously contained the knife set, then tossed it to the side and stood. “Yes, ma’am.”
Alessa let her gaze drift over the new collection as he passed.
The knife block was as pictured, more or less.
Every slot was full, between the row of six steak knives, the kitchen shears, the honing steel, and the assortment of other blades.
Fifteen pieces in total. Alessa had already forgotten what brand, only that she might have balked at paying so much if she were using them for their intended purpose. But then, she was no cook.
Next to the knife set, Rocco had unboxed and pulled open the tool kit so that it faced out like some sort of game show prize.
And the inside did look nice. More than three hundred pieces in total, though she wouldn’t have need of or the means to use all of them.
Prominently visible were some of the easiest items to name, including the promised claw hammer, multiple kinds of wrenches, at least two types of pliers, a wire stripper, different sized screwdrivers, and her two favorite pieces—the utility knife and the hack saw.
The hack saw was even supplied with a spare blade.
There was also sandpaper if she remembered right, as well as another pair of scissors.
The display of the cram-packed interior, including one partially opened drawer, felt like an offering. It made the darker side of her heart do the same stupid fluttering thing that the rest had already been doing for more than a damn day.
Her smile was easy as she lifted her gaze up to Rocco’s. “You know what? It’s totally fine that your jealous assistant dumped my tools. Still unacceptable in that she violated boundaries, but totally fine. I’ve got all I’ll need.” Well, once she factored in the other thing.
She wasn’t as thrilled about that one. But that had been a specific request. Her target had made an enemy, and whether she ultimately chose to let him live with a warning or ended his life, he needed to never be allowed to forget that mistake.
Alessa moved up and caressed her fingers over the assortment of new, untouched playthings. So shiny, so smooth, so unblemished. So virginal. It was fitting that they would inevitably be broken in with blood.
“You’re starting to make me jealous, the way you’re touching those, beautiful. ”
She flicked her eyes up to him from her crouched position. The angle was not lost on her, but she tamped down on the urge. “You’ll have to endure, sweetheart. You promised not to interfere.”
He stared at her for a lingering moment, his eyes an unreadable pool of intensity and hunger. Then his lips kicked up, his dimples popped, and he repeated, “Sweetheart, huh? I guess I’ll behave.”
Shit. It’d just slipped out. She hadn’t even heard herself say it.
Alessa dropped her gaze back to the tools and stubbornly ignored the flush on her cheeks. She selected a steak knife from the set, stood, and prayed the redness that might have bloomed was faded as she turned.
Emanuele chose that moment to re-enter the room, carrying the two new blowtorches they’d had to send runners for. The one part of her pre-requested toybox she could not compromise on.
This time it sounded like Lou who didn’t approve.
“I gotta ask,” Emanuele said as he carefully set the torches down in the line of toys, “are you really going to use these things?”
Alessa wiped all traces of a smile from her face as she met his stare. “Dragon’s orders.”
She thought Emanuele might have taken a deeper breath, but he hid it well. And she liked the guy, so she didn’t call him on it.
Instead, steak knife in hand, she faced her captives once more. “It’s time to get better acquainted.” Alessa stepped up, planted her flat-heeled boot heavily on Lou’s nearest ankle, and used that foot to roll her weight forward as she brought the knife up toward Gwathney’s face.