Page 1 of Vincenzo (The DiMaggio Crime Family #3)

AMALIA

“ W hat are you going to do, Amalia, kill me?”

The blood seeping from Felipe’s mouth, nose, and the gash along his left eyebrow have muddied up his face, making him nearly unrecognizable.

Yet the grimy smile taking over his face, showcasing his decayed teeth from years of drug use, tells me exactly who he is: low-life scum who likes to steal from the people he owes his livelihood to.

I lean against the wall, staring at Felipe, who’s lying on the carpet of his living room, smiling up at me like the deranged man he is, with drugs and money scattered around him.

When I came in here, I gave him the option to take the easy way out or the hard road. It’s what I give all my marks right before killing them. I’m known as La Sicaria , the best hitwoman in the Velasco Cartel—so well known that anytime I pay someone a visit, they know wherever I go, death follows.

“Here’s the thing, ladrón . You’ve been an awfully bad boy,” I say, pointing my knife at him. “And you’ve been around long enough to know what happens to bad boys, correct?”

Felipe spits blood, and it splays across his beige carpet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pushing myself off the wall, I close the distance between us and kneel so I’m practically eye level with him.

I run my gaze down his battered body and say, “Now we both know that’s not true.

” Bringing my attention back up to his face, I tilt my head and narrow my eyes on him.

His eye is nearly swollen shut. “Come on. Why don’t you just be honest with me. I’m going to kill you regardless, so…”

Felipe’s once sardonic smile flattens as he peers up at me, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“Okay,” I say, giving him a loose shrug, “have it your way.”

Gripping the collar of his shirt, I bring my knife up to his neck, nicking the sensitive skin as I put pressure on the blade.

“Okay, okay, okay!” he yells out, wrapping his calloused hands around my wrists. “I’m sorry. I know I owe the boss some money, but I swear I’ll get it to you guys soon.”

“You owe him money and drugs, Felipe. A lot of money and drugs. How in the hell do you think you’re going to come up with all of that?”

“I-I don’t know, but I will!”

I apply more pressure to his neck, and this time, my knife slices into him, causing a small amount of blood to trickle down the blade.

“Wait, wait, wait! You don’t want to do this!” Felipe’s voice is frantic and desperate, which grates on my nerves. When will they ever just make this easy on me? I could do without the dramatics for once and go for the easy, quiet kill.

I roll my eyes. “And why wouldn’t I?”

He shifts his gaze back and forth between mine. His pupils are so dilated from the drugs he’s been stealing from my uncle I’m surprised he’s still coherent. He swallows deeply, and the movement catches on my blade. “I-I have information for you.”

I raise a brow at him. “Information for me ? What kind of information would you have that I would give a fuck about?”

“Y … your parents.”

My heart skips a beat, and I put even more pressure on my knife. Felipe’s grip tightens, but even with his hands wrapped around my wrists, it would take less than a second for me to slit his throat from the position I’m in.

“My parents are dead, Felipe.” My tone is low and steady, nearly threatening because he dared to speak about them.

His eyes widen. “I-I know they are, but haven’t you wondered who did it?”

“I already know who did it, and he was taken care of. Ten years ago.”

He goes to shake his head but is halted when my knife begins to carve its way into his skin. He hisses out in pain. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that if I were you.”

“You wouldn’t be too sure about that?” I scoff out. As if I’d believe anything that comes out of this guy’s mouth.

“Lower the knife, and I’ll tell you what I know,” he says, a desperate move to try and get me to spare his life. Unfortunately for him, I see right through the bullshit and put a bit more behind the blade.

His eyes nearly bulge out of his sockets, and he yells, “Please! I’m trying to help you!”

Before he’s able to say another word, I slide the blade across his neck, and his grip around my wrists loosens. A few seconds later, he drops his hold on me altogether, and I release him, letting him fall to the floor with a thump as he gurgles and chokes on his own blood.

I watch the scene unfold for the next couple minutes, nothing but the sound of his shallow gasps for air filling the room, and wait for him to bleed out while his words play on repeat in my head.

“But haven’t you wondered who did it?”

Snapping my eyes open, I suck in a sharp breath as I awaken from the recollection of events plaguing my sleep multiple times a week for over a month now.

There’s a warm solid frame wrapped around me, and I nearly attack it when a familiar voice sounds through the night. “Hey, you okay?”

“Carlos… what the fuck are you doing in here?”

“I heard you making noise in your sleep. It sounded like you were having a bad dream.” His arm across my waist tightens. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I wince at the intimacy and push myself up to a seated position, causing his arm to fall off me. “I’m fine. You know you shouldn’t be in here.” Placing my feet on the floor, I turn my back on him and sit on the edge of the bed.

Carlos lets out a sigh. “Come on, Amalia. You didn’t think I was going to let you suffer through one of your nightmares again, did you?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare.” It was the past.

“Okay, you’ve had this not nightmare nearly every night since we’ve gotten to New York City. Why don’t we talk about it?”

I whip my gaze over my shoulder, which is pointless because all I can see is Carlos’s broad-framed silhouette in the middle of the night. “I told you I’m fine. Now you need to leave. You have your own bedroom.”

“Amalia,” he sighs out, like he’s not privy to the conditions I told him he’d be held to the first night we hooked up.

“Amalia nothing. You know what it’s always been between us.”

“Yeah. Sex.”

“And?”

“And nothing more.”

“Exactly,” I say. “So please tell me why the fuck you’re still in my bed, Carlos.”

The sound of sheets ruffling comes through the pitch-black night, and his silhouette moves from lying down to standing at the side of the bed.

“Fine, but if you need to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

Facing forward again, I give Carlos my back. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

I close my eyes and silently pray he gets the hint I’ve laid out so fucking clearly for him. After a few seconds, the thud of his footsteps sound across the floor, and I don’t let out another breath until the click of the door latching fills the air.

Carlos and I have only hooked up a few times over the past month. It’s never been serious, and it never will be, but ever since my uncle sent us to NYC to gather intel on the DiMaggios, he’s been up my ass, and I don’t fucking like it.

Lying down in my bed, I close my eyes and will my body to fall back asleep. But as I lie here in the dead of night, all I can hear are the words I haven’t been able to get out of my head for over a month: “But haven’t you wondered who did it?”