Page 24 of Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy 3)
For some reason, this must have pleased him. A smile spread across his face.
“I respect your honesty.” The smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “But I do not respect your boss’s. He rules with fear and intimidation. Not with respect. True power, and the ability to keep it, requires all three.”
His statement hit me hard, and I recognized the truth of it. Still, I kept my face expressionless because I knew where my loyalty lay, and it wasn’t with the old Mexican.
“Whatever beef you have with Mr. Morello has nothing to do with me.”
The old man tilted his head to one side. “What if I told you that he likes his girls young.”
My teeth clenched together. It was like this guy knew my triggers. “As long as they’re legal and willing, it isn’t a damn bit of my business.”
I knew what Morello liked. The younger and blonder, the better. I’d done my due diligence, though, and I made sure they were all legal and that none appeared to be forced. I might not be a good man, but I did have limits.
“And if they weren’t legal and willing?”
I shoved out of the chair and stared down at him. “Get to the fucking point, old man, because I’m not here to play twenty questions.” The respect in my tone was gone, and so was my patience.
He nodded at my suit. “Your tailor, he has a daughter. She’s young and blond. How old is she?”
The fact that he knew this kind of information gave me a hint of why the CIA pandered to him like he was a freaking king.
“What’s your point?” I ground out the words, not liking where he was going with this. Part of me thought he was just fucking with my head to see how loyal I really was. Maybe this was a test. Maybe this was something he and Morello had concocted together.
“Keep an eye on your tailor’s daughter if you give a shit about her. Because, apparently, legal is too old for Morello these days.”
The thought of Morello touching Greta—a fourteen-year-old girl, the same age Hope was when Jerry tried to rape her—sent the same kind of killing rage I felt that night through me again.
“What the fuck do you know? And why are you telling me?”
The old man shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like men who hurt children. Something I hear we have in common.”
He couldn’t know about my past. That was impossible.
I ripped the envelope from his grip and tucked it under my arm. “Nice doing business with you.”
“And you, Mr. Mount. I expect I’ll see you again soon.”
The old Mexican’s words haunted me for days.
I turned over the envelope to Morello, but I said nothing about the accusations. Instead, I watched and waited. Hoped like hell the old man was full of shit.
When Morello sent Giorgio to Italy to handpick new material, an ominous feeling settled in my bones. Greta and Giorgio lived on the premises. Giorgio was a widower, and Morello had assured him that Greta would be looked after in his absence.
I was sent on run after run, making it impossible to keep an eye on her the way I used to sleep outside Destiny’s door, and then kept watch over Hope.
I wanted the old man to be wrong, but my gut said he was right.
By design, I returned early from an errand, using the secret network of internal hallways to reach Morello’s office. It was the one room with no peepholes, and I entered without permission—a move that could cost me my life.
But my gut told me I had to.
I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing. Morello’s big hand was buried in Greta’s hair as he bent her over his desk. His dick was out, and her shirt was torn. Her cries and his taunts filled my ears before the rush of blood took over.
I saw Hope and Jerry. Not Greta and Morello. The killing calm slipped over me, and I didn’t stop to consider the consequences of my actions.
I pulled the gun from the holster that never left my side and silently crossed the room. With ice water running through my veins, I pressed the barrel against the back of his balding head before he could make another move.
“Take your fucking hands off her.” My tone was low with harnessed rage.
