Alessa couldn’t fully believeshe’d allowed Rocco to do that. Worse, it had been hot as hell and part of her had wanted to drop to her knees and lick him clean as a thank you. While the bitch who’d ruined her interrogation plans watched, of course.
She groaned and glared ahead at the unassuming box tucked under Emanuele’s arm. Pivoting meant more risk. Pivoting required less planned, thought-out choices. Pivoting was one of Alessa’s least favorite things to have to do in themiddle of a job, but it had been necessary. She was not going to delay the point of her journey to Las Vegas because some jealous, insecure bitch tossed out a suitcase.
Ugh.
“Alessa?” Rocco laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’re not even inside yet and you sound like you’re miserable. You okay?”
“I still want to kill her.” The words were past Alessa’s mouth before she realized they’d risen up from that dark, hateful place inside. There was no taking them back.
She was honestly not sure which male laughed first, only that the sound was briefly everywhere before Emanuele finally pulled open the door and held it for them. His eyes twinkled with continued amusement that he wisely kept to himself.
Rocco had no such compunction, and leaned in closer as they filed through the doorway. His breath was hot over her ear. “You still can, beautiful. Carla and Cousin are being detained until the priority shit is handled.” His free arm looped around her as soon as the walkway widened and his next words washed over her heart the way his lips caressed her temple. “You’rethe priority.”
He meant her job. The mission she had been sent to handle. Alessa knew that, in her brain. But her heart … her heart had started sashaying down a very different path, very quickly.
She dragged in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and slowly exhaled. This was not the time to be thinking about impossible things. This was not the time to be thinking about anything at all beyond the orders she had last been given.
Find the person behind Ralph George and get them to surrender any claim to a debt or personal grudge against any member of the Richardson family, by whatever means necessary.
No one on the De Salvo side gave a shit about Wesley himself, but his daughter was one of them now. And that meant she was untouchable. That also meant Alessa’srealjob was to remove any potential threat in a very permanent way.
Rocco stepped from her in order to flick on the lights in the next room, swathing the large, open space in an almost-white glow. “And here we are. Two chumps awaiting judgment.”
Alessa couldn’t help but smile at that.
More or less centered in the room, angled sideways to the only entrance, were both of her captives. Their mouths were duct-taped, they were tied at the ankles, and their arms had both been wrenched behind them in order for their wrists to be tied while also securing each of them to the singular metal pole that ran from floor to ceiling.
A small laugh bubbled out of her. “A stripper pole?”
Rocco shrugged as Lou’s bleary, half-focused glare shifted their way. “It’s Vegas, what’d you expect?”
“All right!” Emanuele said, louder than was necessary, as he moved to one side of the room. The side the captives could more easily see. “Let’s get this puppy unboxed.”
One of the men attached to the pole made a sound of distress.
Alessa watched them for a moment, but their bindings appeared secure.
Gwathney certainly didn’t look like a man who saw a path of escape.
So she shifted her focus obligingly and watched as Rocco moved to join Emanuele. Emanuele had the brand-new, still-packaged cutlery on the floor and was sweeping a pocketknife through the tape.
Alessa bit back yet another sigh. It wasn’t that she couldn’t work with what she’d acquired. It was that she’d gone to the trouble of requesting a nice repertoire of items, to give her a variety of methods, and yet she was being forced to operate with a block of kitchen knives, a pair of scissors, and whatever came in the tool kit Rocco had purchased. He promised there was at least a hammer.
While the men were unboxing, Alessa pulled up her hair and evaluated the rest of the space.
Worn carpet square flooring, all one level. Another door, off the wall to the left, partially open. Two tall, narrow windows completely obscured by blackout drapes that appeared to have been sealed down the sides with rows of tightly placed nails. The outer wall itself boasted something of a 3D effect, but Alessa recognized the raised fabric panels for what they were. Modern-day soundproofing. She knew the house they were in didn’t have any close neighbors, as it resided in a less than desirable, outside-city-limits district. But the extra effort was smart.
One of her captives started making more noises of distress, so she refocused her attention on them.
Gwathney’s eyes were big and glossy and staring with mounting terror in the direction of the shiny new toys being set on display. As per her instructions, of course.
Alessa smiled and moved to crouch within both men’s field of view. “Hi again, gentlemen. Are you comfortable? Have you missed me?” She looked between them, unsurprised by the hatred spewing from Lou’s eyes or the anger darkening the edges of Gwathney’s. “Have we come to our senses, perhaps?” She raised both brows as if it were a genuine question and she might still be inclined to let this de-escalate into a civil conversation.
Gwathney made a sound that was distinctly non-agreeable.
“All right-y then.” Alessa straightened, made a show of stretching her back and arms, and turned partially around in order to glance toward the other men in the room. “Emanuele, could you please grab me the other thing from the car when you’re done there?”
Emanuele snapped the carboard—already flattened—that had previously contained the knife set, then tossed it to the side and stood. “Yes, ma’am.”
