Amplify (34 page)

I feel the heat flush my cheeks. "I’m not sure that’s something..."

"Baby, I just had my cock in your ass, my fingers in your pussy... I filled every part of your body and you’re shy about showing me how you pleasured yourself while you fantasized about fucking me?" he asks.

I frown. "How do you know I fantasized about you?"

That signature smirk appears and I want to bite him, lick him, fuck him again. Jesus, I’m turning into a nympho. Shit, I’m turning into
Lucy!

"Before, when you slept in the purple room, I could hear you through the wall."

"What?" I ask.

"I heard you. I heard your vibrator and when you came, I heard you say my name."

"That’s not embarrassing at all," I murmur.

"There’s no need to be embarrassed, Fee. The minute I figured out what you were doing, I started stroking my cock and I came with you," he admits, tilting my chin so I meet his gaze.

"Every time?" I ask.

"Every fucking time. I was so fucking jealous of that vibrator."

I laugh. "Well, if I’d known you were stroking your cock, I’d have been jealous of your hand."

"We don’t have to worry about that anymore."

"Nope," I say. "After the way you sex me up, there’s no way I’m going to even think about touching myself."

"Damn right. If you’re ever horny or want me to touch you, just give me that look," he tells me.

I pause and look at him.

"Yeah, that one right there," he says and his cock gets hard in record time. I grin when he lifts me, wrapping my arms and legs around him.

Shower sex with Cage is amazing. And to think, I get to have this any time I want, as much as I want, for the rest of my life.

His cock slides inside me and I moan.

"Are you sore?" he asks.

"Yeah, but never too sore to have you inside me."

"Fee," he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

I run my finger over the key over his heart.

"Always and forever yours Fee," he tells me and tears fill my eyes. I nod.

"Only ever you." He nods in return, and then we make love, slowly, sweetly, against the wall of the shower, with the hot water cascading down our bodies, our lips and tongues caressing. And when we come, we come together, our moans long and low, our tears blending, our hearts beating for each other. Forever, only for each other.

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W
elcome To The Jungle by Guns N’ Roses

Bodies by Drowning Pool

Click Click Boom by Saliva

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T
HEY ALL ARRIVED AHEAD OF ME
. That bitch Carina’s been sitting in this warehouse for the past eighteen hours. I feel sorry for the men who have to guard her. No doubt she’s been trying to fuck them into letting her go.

I walk through the door. Air conditioned. They should have let the bitch swelter.

She failed.

There she sits. Bruises marring her beautifully evil face, blood caked on her red top, a bandage tied around the shoulder with the gunshot wound—likely to keep her alive so I could have at her, getting much needed answers, rather than to help her.

I don’t say a word as I walk past Grandpa, Cage, and—holy fuck—Emilio. I knew he was involved but I didn’t know he was
here
in Jamaica. Obviously she hasn’t seen him or I imagine she’d be squealing like the whorish pig she is.

I’m wearing black capri pants, kick ass chunky heel black sandals, and a black tank top. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I don’t need it getting in my face while I torture her. Is it wrong that I’m looking forward to this?

"There she is," Damian says, standing up from the chair he was kicked back in.

"Here I am," I say with a nod and I do a half-assed pirouette. "She say anything?"

"Other than begging for her life? No."

"What, no offers to suck someone off for her freedom?" I ask in false surprise.

"Of course there were those. She just didn’t realize all the men she coerced, the traitors, are already dead. She’s fucked," Damian tells me.

"And not how she’d like to be. Too bad for her. Yay for me."

Damian lifts a brow.

I turn to face him. "You’re about to see a part of me no one does."

He nods. "I figured. It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to judge, don’t you think?"

I nod. "I just don’t want you seeing me differently."

"Nah. I already knew what you were about."

"How?"

"I pay attention, Sera. It’s my job," he tells me matter-of-factly.

I nod. "Alright then. Let’s do this." I rub my hands together.

Uncle Ernesto nods at me and I give him a wink. He smirks.

"Hello Carina."

She scoffs. "Hello little girl."

I laugh. "Little girl?"

"I’m surprised to see you here. Are we going to sing Kumbaya and flip through fashion magazines?"

I smirk. "Before long, you’re going to be wishing we were."

Carina looks at me, her eyes narrow. "Wait a minute. They’re letting you get your hands dirty."

I bounce a little. "Oh yeah. Dirty and bloody and anything else I want."

"That’s forbidden."

I shrug. "It might be, but when Giovanni Russo gives the okay, do you imagine anyone is going to say anything against him?"

She’s silent for a minute but recovers quickly. "Am I supposed to be afraid of you now that you’re dressed in all black and married to a mafia boss?" her voice drips with disdain.

I snort. "One: I always wear black. Lucy’s the one who wears the girlie stuff. Two: I don’t need to be married to a mafia boss to want to put a bullet between your eyes. Three: I’ve been the granddaughter of a mafia boss my entire life. Four: I loathe you. Five: You’re a filthy conniving whore who, by prostituting yourself as you did, gives decent women a bad rap by association. Six: I’m going to hurt you and I’m going to hurt you badly. Reason number six? That’s the reason why you should be afraid of me. Very afraid."

"I’m not."

"You’re a liar," I murmur, walking up to her and looking in her eyes. "Lucy did a good job fucking up your face, even with her bare feet."

Carina spits at me and I laugh when it doesn’t come anywhere near me. "You’re too good at being a cum guzzler to know how to spit properly."

Damian laughs. "Sorry," he apologizes. "I couldn’t help it."

I nod. "No worries." I turn and walk back to where the shadows begin, not far enough to see Cage, Grandpa, or Emilio, but I feel their eyes on me. I turn to face Carina.

"So. Tell me. What did you hope to gain by driving a wedge between me and Cage? Did you think he’d want you if you got me to leave him?" I ask.

"He wanted me already, stupid girl. It’s why we fucked long before you entered the picture," she laughs.

I bite the side of my mouth. I want nothing more than to give in to the rage building inside of me, but I don’t. I hold it back and instead, I nod.

I walk up to her, stopping three feet away, making note of her bare feet. "And just how many times did you fuck?" I ask, not needing the answer because I already know it. What I want is to hear her lie some more so my rage builds. There’s nothing I hate more than a liar.

She tilts her head. "Lots."

"Yeah?" I nod. "Can’t blame you. He’s seriously amazing in bed. You know that thing he does with his tongue? Oh wait. No, you don’t. Because both times
you
fucked
him
, he was practically unconscious. And honestly, if he wasn’t, I can’t imagine anyone going near that nasty pussy with their tongue. Who knows what they’d come away with." I visibly shudder.

"Bitch," she hisses and I smirk. I get closer to her, stepping on her bare toes with my chunky sandals. Her jaw clenches. She’s tough, I’ll give her that. This shit has to hurt, especially now when I lean forward, standing on tiptoe, putting all my weight on her toenails.

"Why does me calling you out on your behavior make
me
a bitch? Honestly, when you fuck that many guys, unprotected I might add," I tsk just to piss her off even more, "you’re bound to walk away with something unpleasant." I lean in, my hands resting on the arms of the chair. "Condoms. Condoms, condoms, condoms!" I stomp on her foot with my heel and she groans.

"This from the stupid little girl who got knocked up," she hisses in retaliation.

I nod, rage clouding my vision now. The red mist now becoming a haze. She went there. It’s on.

"Fair enough. You don’t know the circumstances surrounding that so I’ll let you have that one."

"Why?" she asks.

"Because it’s none of your fucking business."

"But my sex life is?" she asks.

There’s my opening. "You’re god damn right it is. You whored your way into places you didn’t belong, places you weren’t
authorized
to be. So, you can bet your ass it’s my business. You fucked with my family, literally and figuratively. But," I say, folding my hands in front of me and bending at the waist before standing back up and walking back and forth in front of her, "you did us a favor."

She just looks at me, confused.

"You helped
la Famiglia
weed out the weak ones, the disloyal men and women." When she looks up in surprise, I smirk. "You think we didn’t know about Marci? How you turned Gio? We know about them
all.
And because of you, they’re all dead. Shark bait. I’m curious... why is it, Carina, that you hate me like you do?"

She scoffs.

"Seriously," I murmur, walking over to the table where Damian has his tools laid out. I pick up the ice pick and look to Uncle Ernesto, who just shrugs and winks. I don’t take any of those tools—yet—I merely pull my gun out of the back waistband of my jeans. I hold it in my right hand and walk up to her. She stiffens.

"Why?"

She doesn’t answer so I take the muzzle of the gun and press it to the bloody spot on the bandage around her shoulder and when she winces, I press harder.

"Why?" I demand.

"You don’t deserve him. You never did."

"And just who the fuck are you to tell me who or what I deserve?" I twist my gun into her wound, a fresh flow of blood staining the bandage.

"He was supposed to be mine!" she cries out.

I withdraw the gun. "Who said? You?"

She says nothing.

"Don’t you think he should have a say in
who
he chooses to be with?" I ask.

She laughs. "Do you think he’s with you by choice? He’s only with you because of Giovanni."

I lift a brow. "Do tell."

"He never wanted you. He was forced into being in a relationship with you."

"Hmm," I murmur. "That’s interesting," I tell her, then flash my wedding rings in her face, "considering we’re now
married.
"

Her face pales.

"Was he forced to
marry
me too?"

"You don’t deserve him!"

"Why not?" I ask.

"You left. You just took off, believing what I told you."

I nod at her and walk over to the tools again. I tuck my Beretta back into my waistband after wiping it off. Then I pick up the hammer.

"I did." I toss the hammer back and forth between my hands—right, left, right, left—alternating with each step back toward her.

Carina grins. "Then there's no way you can truly love him. Your marriage is a sham and he really does belong with me."

That right hand is mine. Her knife hand. I think of Lucy and her babies and I don’t hesitate.

I snort. "No, I don't think so. Nice try though." I stop in front of her and slam the hammer down on her middle finger, without warning. She bites back a scream.

"Want to know why I ran?" I ask, as if I didn’t just shatter her finger.

"I—" Carina whines. I can handle groans, moans, whimpers of pain, but whining? That’s pathetic.

"I'll tell you why I ran." Slam. Hammer on her ring finger.

"It's because of people like
you
." Slam. Pinky finger.

She laughs. "Like me?"

"Yeah," I say and grin when I slam the hammer down on her thumb, "like you." I grin as I slam the hammer into the middle of her hand and she screams in pain.

"You know," slam onto her index finger, "cold-hearted bitches and assholes who can hurt people without showing remorse—much like I'm doing right now—though I have a reason." Slam, down on her wrist. She cries out, unable to hold back any longer. I gotta give her credit. She held out a lot longer than I anticipated.

"People like you never do."

I tap the hammer against my other hand then walk over to Damian's display of tools and pick up the pliers. I hate her fucking nails. That fucking tap, tap, tapping I woke up to the day she’d held a knife over me while I slept.

I click them open and closed, narrowing my eyes on her, and Carina's eyes widen.

"People like you who kill innocent people." I reach for her other hand, holding that index finger that she tap, tap, tapped against the bedpost that day, and pull that fucking nail out. When she screams, I look to Cage, who’s leaning forward in his chair. I can see him. His eyes are darkened. He's turned on. Truth be told, so am I. Does that make me a sick person?