Page 7 of Vicious Secrets
A scream of agony and warm liquid splattering my face draws my conscious to the surface. The attacker’s jaw remains attached but hangs uselessly, making his mouth a maw of shrieking red. I use my moment of clarity to put the fucker out of his misery with a bullet between the eyes. Turning away from the corpse, I watch more sacrifices arrive and quickly retreat at the sight of me. Or from the state of their friend behind me.
Without a word or a glance between us, Ari and I chase after them, running into backup along the way and taking down the remaining Bratva soldiers within minutes.
The five of us stand in a line. Our guns smoking, our chests heaving, and our shared confusion palpable.
“We done here?” Vittore asks and holsters his gun.
He’s one of my Capos and my cousin. When he was orphaned at seven, my parents took him in, and we became as close as brothers. He’s the only person I trust to talk with about my non-work life. When he married Mel back in July, I knew he’d cut back on how many hours he worked in a week. I never expected him to cut me out of his life over a disagreement.
I refused to get involved when the Bratva kidnapped and murdered his father-in-law. Why did they kill Kane Turner? Don’t know, don’t care. I saw his death as a win-win. Eventually, the banker was going to taste the barrel of my gun.
Ari exchanges a look with Vi’s soldiers, Danny and Fabi. I run my tongue over my teeth.
Is Vittore’s behavior petty? Yes. Did he beat the billion-to-one odds and find love in an arranged marriage? Also, yes.
Confronting him about pushing me away is the equivalent of me publicly questioning his love for his wife. I’m not trying to get slaughtered by one of my own, but I need to repair things with Vi. If I don’t, I risk entering the next chapter of my life entirely alone.
“After a word, Vi.” I jerk my head toward a perpendicular row of containers.
Vi’s pale eyes narrow. He follows me with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders arched. I slip my gun away and pull my bleeding arm free from my suit coat, letting it hang off my other shoulder. The stitches in my forearm likely split when I threw a punch.
Stopping in the shadows of the row, I keep my gaze on my cuff as my fingers struggle with the buttons slick with both blood and sweat. “Bride test tomorrow. Engagement in two weeks. Wedding at the end of September.”
Gravel shuffles and pieces skitter along the ground at the edge of my vision. “You already know she’s going to pass?”
Robyn agreed to my deal, so yes, she’ll pass. But me, on the other hand... I’m the least experienced made man in the history of organized crime. The allure of sex has always drawn me in. My dick isn’t a problem—I beat it into submission regularly.
And here I am, less than twenty-four hours away from doing something I’ve seen disappointingly little of in porn.
The bride test is a compatibility test and a tradition of the Fedeltà, which comes with the bonus of giving the bride a sanctioned premarital orgasm. It happens in the bride’s father’s office on his desk; oral only, no talking, and no reciprocating. In some circles, pissing off your future father-in-law by making her scream is a badge of honor.
I finally get my cuff undone and pull up the sleeve of my shirt. The blood soaking my shirt must belong to someone else. The stitches in my arm look as perfect as the day Robyn did them. I blink at the neat row and run a finger over them to confirm none of them split.
Damn, she’s good.
“Yes. She’s a good match,” I say as I fix my sleeve. There are multiple questions on the tip of my tongue and several secrets too. Vi doesn’t know the details of why I’ve put off marriage for so long. Or about my sensitivity to touch.
I’m not worried about ever accidentally hurting Robyn. I only go berserk when the physical contact is threatening. I’m afraid of disappointing her, having a panic attack, or getting addicted after my first taste.
“Robyn Hale, she’s Oscar Cesaro’s stepdaughter. She’ll need a bodyguard. I want to offer Fabi the position.” I look up from my arm to see Vi’s eyebrows nearly in his hairline.
“Oscar? The-the dick who started this shit?” He gestures in the direction of the dead Bratva.
I shake my head. “Oscar doesn’t have this kind of influence with the Russians. He’s happy about the marriage and the truce with my father.”
“Well, Someone is sending the fucking B-teams after us. How many of the dealers you ditched in Texas were his?”
I press my lips into a thin line and put my coat back on. “Will you shoot me if I promote Fabi out from under you?”
Vi rolls his head and shrugs. “Fabi’s a good choice. Take him. Are we done here?”
My stomach flips. He’s still lost to me, and I’m too emotionally stunted to know how to fix our friendship. “Can I expect you at the engagement party?”
He snorts. “Duh, I wanna meet the unluckiest lady in the world.”
Chapter 4
Robyn
