Page 35 of The Bonventi Hitman

"It's me. That thing is done. You've got to come now."

"What? Now?"

"Right now. It got moved up. Found the package a day sooner. It's prepared for transport. Boss wants you to deliver it."

"At the place?"

"Yes."

"Fuck...okay. Fine, I'll be there."

The call ends, and I tuck my phone back into my pocket.

I rub my forehead, trying to figure out how I allowed myself to get in this situation.

Did I even allow myself?

I dove into my work, focusing on doing what I do best, but it still isn't enough. The thrill of the hunt, my job—all of it seems muted to my senses and emotions. Some damn woman I met at a party is all I can think about.

"Please, finish me or let me go," the Russian yells from the ground.

"Shut the fuck up," I say and bring my heel down on his face.

Since that night, I've been tracking down a mix of those responsible for setting up the hit, and a few of their mid-range guys just to send a message. Enzo is out for blood on this one, so of course, that really means—I am.

The man curled up in the fetal position before me, gasping for air, is the last man before we move into phase two. He was the hardest to track down, but as I do best, I found him.

"You're dead, all you fucking Italians will die," the Russian says.

I kick him hard, pretending his head is a ball. He flies backward and lies on his back, unconscious.

As I stare down at him, all I can do is think about why I'm thinking about her. It's a torturous mind-fuck. To think about why you're thinking about someone—what the hell is that about?

However, that's the position I find myself in.

Since our dance and encounter at Sfera Nera, I can't bring myself to think about anyone else. No one interests me, and for someone who's never had a problem keeping company in my bed, I just don't understand it.

I sigh and wish it would have been anyone but Luca who got in my way. I need to respect the family that's raised me and the code we live by, but thinking of them together, it just...

I scream and kick the Russian out of frustration.

She's fucking mine.

I have to figure out something quick. As the days go on, it's getting worse. I can't step away and fly off to Europe to clear my head, I can't not ever see her again, and I can't afford to have my mind not in this 100%, especially if we're on the brink of war.

I fear that if I see her again, and we are alone, I'm going to want to claim her. Fuck the consequences.

Luca doesn't deserve her.

I feel myself getting worked up again, which isn't great since I'm going to have to see him when he arrives.

Suddenly, there's a noise at the front door—it must be Luca.

"Shit," I yell. The Russian is gone.

Getting sloppy, Gabe.

I run after my target, who I beat pretty bad, so running fast isn't an option for him.