| BOOK FOUR | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers.
This series is NOT a typical romance...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Liam Besuited men thronged the casino's entrance. Catching the Bentley keys from Jax, I ordered everyone to trail behind Alexa's Mercedes to ensure she returned to the Manor and waited on the street corner to watch their vehicles speed down the road. Knowing my wife was in safe hands, I collapsed behind the steering wheel, fired the engine and, ripping away from the curbside, drove full speed toward the address Brad provided via text message.
Moretti will come alone.
It should have been hassle-free, but when I spotted a recognisable Bugatti in the wing mirror, I swerved into the nearest petrol station.
Vincent pulled in behind me. He soared from the car and took furious strides closer.
Jerking the driver's side door open, I stood in time to meet his wrath.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" His ire earned curious glances from people fuelling their cars. "You have to wait for backup, Liam. Do not risk your safety for the sake of foolish bitterness!"
I saw red. "You better watch your fucking mouth."
Vincent kicked a pebble from under his leather shoe. "Brad asked you to wait."
"Yeah?" My shoulders tensed. "He told you that himself, did he?"
His eyes bore guilt. "You know he didn't."
"Did you tap my phone?" I questioned, and he looked away. "Vincent, I will fuck you up."
"There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you." Tresses of dark hair fell over his brows. "Hate me, brother. I care not. What matters is your safety. You do not communicate with me, so I must do whatever is deemed necessary for cognisance."
"We will deal with this matter later." My phone vibrated in my pocket. "I have Moretti's location. The bastard will die today." He seized my elbow. "Release me, Vincent."
Brad's Bentley screeched into the petrol station.
Vincent stepped back to watch my right-hand man rise from the parked vehicle.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" Brad's car bleeped when he locked the doors. "No one invited you, Vincy Boy. Do us all a favour and fuck off. This is Syndicate business."
My brother brooded for a few seconds. "Jones?"
Brad spat a toothpick on the floor.
Without warning, Vincent punched Brad square in the face. Staggering into the Bentley, Brad licked the blood from his cracked lip and, switching gears, lunged into a fistfight. He charged at my brother, who anticipated counterattack, and tackled him across the ground.
"You motherfucker!" Brad yelled as the pair rolled for dominance on the concrete. "Warren, I will fucking end him!"
