Bound By Love (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 6)

Romero tensed in his chair but Gottardo turned back to me.

“All because you let the blonde Scuderi whore lead you around by your dick.”

I shoved the massive table away and grabbed my uncle by the throat, lifting him from his chair and throwing it over. I thrust him against the wall and clamped both my hands down on his neck and squeezed as hard as I could. His head turned red, eyes bulging. He clawed at me, beat and scratched, but I didn’t loosen my grip. Nobody dared coming to his aid as he fought for his life.

I stared into his eyes as I had done many years ago when I’d killed his son. His bones gave in, pierced his carotid and esophagus. He choked, blood spurting out of his lips. He coughed, choked on his own fucking blood. Blood hit my face and shirt as he wheezed. I didn’t ease up until the light left his fucking eyes, then I unfastened my grip and let his corpse drop to the ground at my feet. It had become dead quiet around me. I faced my men. My hands, face and shirt were covered in blood, and from the look on Matteo’s face—shock and sick fascination—I knew I was a sight straight out of Hell.

“I am your Capo. I rule over the East Coast. I rule over you. If someone’s got a problem with me, then step up and tell me to my fucking face, and I’ll grant you a fucking quick death. But I swear by Heaven and Hell that crushing my uncle’s throat will look like a merciful end to the next fucker who dares to insult my wife. I won’t stand any kind of disrespect.”

Many men nodded in agreement; others looked like they had shit their pants. I didn’t give a fuck. “This meeting is over.”

I waved toward my uncle’s men then pointed at his remaining son, who didn’t look particularly sad about his father’s demise. “Take his corpse back home with you. I hope you won’t share your brother’s and father’s fate one day.”

I turned, fucking done with this meeting. Matteo was close behind me as I stalked out of the power plant and toward my Aston Martin.

Matteo stepped in front of me before I could get behind the wheel. “I think I should drive. You aren’t quite sane right now.”

I shoved the keys at him. “You think?” I muttered.

He headed back to the trunk, returned a moment later and held out a clean white shirt. “Perhaps you should change. I don’t want to have to explain this to the police if they catch us. Not all of them are on our payroll, remember?”

I pulled off my shirt and wiped my face and hands clean with it, but the pink tinge remained. Romero came out after us and I handed him the shirt. “Can you burn this?”

He nodded, eyes worried as he took my shirt. I didn’t need their fucking worry. I was fine.

I got into the car and Matteo got behind the wheel. We drove in silence but he kept looking my way. “You okay?”

I scowled. “I’ve killed so many people. You think I still care?”

“The last time you crushed a throat, you were a bit unhinged afterwards. You’ve been on edge anyway considering everything that’s been going on.”

On edge was a strange way to put it. Ever since war had broken out, the voices in the Famiglia that wanted me gone had grown louder. They were still a small minority but it made my life difficult. Perhaps tonight had silenced a few enemies, or perhaps I’d earned myself new ones. It was difficult to say yet. I’d have to replace my uncles with more trustworthy, younger Underbosses. I had tolerated them for long enough. It was time for them to retire before I had to kill another one.

“Back to our wives? Or do you need additional time to cool off?” Matteo asked.

“I don’t need time to cool off. I’m fine. All I want is to have Aria’s naked body beneath me.”

Matteo slanted me another look. I hardly ever mentioned sex with Aria. I hated to share even that tiny bit of Aria with anyone. We spent the rest of the drive in silence. Usually my pulse slowed quickly after the kill, but this time it didn’t. When we pulled up in the driveway of the mansion, I was still wired. Romero arrived shortly after and together we entered our home. It was quiet as we moved into the living room. The women had put up the remaining Christmas decorations. The Christmas tree glowed in red and silver. I needed a peaceful Christmas, couldn’t wait for a few days of quiet with my true family.

My mobile beeped, announcing an email. I took it out of my back pocket. It was from a journalist contact and the subject line read “Urgent” followed by about a dozen exclamation marks. I paused and clicked on the email.