CHAPTER 217 Delivery
*Pete*
Nothing beats the thrill of watching a woman crumble—tears streaming, voice trembling, body quaking with fear and desperation. It’s even sweeter when their eyes first meet yours with a flicker of rejection, disdain, or worse, pity. That look fuels me, like gasoline on a smoldering fire.
I smirked, thinking back to my first run-in with Virtue Sullivan. *Pity*. That’s what I saw in her soft, doe-like eyes. She had waltzed into Dom’s store, all high-and-mighty, interrupting Nicole’s verbal lashing. Nicole was tearing into me, like I was weak, pathetic—a nobody. Little did Virtue know, I let Nicole’s words slide off me like rain on a slicker. It was all part of the mask I wore to hide the beast underneath.
Earlier, I had left a hooker unconscious in the basement, courtesy of Lisa’s men. My fists still stung, raw and bruised, but the rush of power was worth it. I was alive, unstoppable. Now, standing under the scalding spray of the shower, sweat and blood swirling down the drain, I let the water cool my skin and sharpen my focus.
Tonight was going to be electric.
Virtue… she was a storm in my world, a beautiful curse wrapped in innocence. Since she showed up, everything had gone to hell. My mother was gone, Theodore was dead, the Martins were on the run, and me? I was exiled from my own empire, dethroned like some fallen king. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Virtue was the spark that set it all ablaze, dismantling my kingdom brick by brick.
I laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls as water poured over me. Virtue, my downfall? Her angelic face flashed in my mind—golden hair, eyes like a summer sky. No, she wasn’t the devil. She was a gift, sent from the heavens to test me, to tempt me.
I stepped out of the shower, steam curling around me like a ghostly halo. My phone buzzed on the counter, shattering the quiet. I grabbed it, still dripping, and answered.
“Mrs. Brent,” I said, voice low.
“The delivery’s on its way. ETA, twenty minutes,” she said, her words rushed, breathless, like she was sprinting from danger. In the background, a car door slammed, tires screeching as an engine roared to life. She was definitely running from something—or someone.
“My daughter did her part,” she continued. “So, when my sister calls looking for Lorenzo, tell her to come find me.”
I frowned, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on? You sound like you’re being chased.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Oh, it’s just my husband. He called, and I’ve got to get home before he suspects I’m back to my old tricks.” Her voice was too light, too forced. I didn’t buy it.
“And your men?” I pressed.
“They know what to do,” she said. “Good luck, Capo Bastone. Enjoy your night.” The line went dead before I could respond.
Her words left a sour taste in my mouth, a gnawing unease settling in my gut. But I pushed it aside. The delivery was coming, and that was reason enough to smile.
I dressed quickly, slipping into a tailored gray suit that hugged my frame like a second skin. The mirror reflected a man in control—sharp, dangerous, ready. I headed downstairs to the warehouse’s main floor, where the air was thick with the scent of cardboard and grease. Stacks of pizza boxes and takeout containers lined the walls, a cover for the real business happening tonight.
As I descended the metal stairs, Mrs. Brent’s men were huddled in a corner, whispering. The moment they saw me, they scattered like roaches under a light, slinking off in different directions. My jaw tightened. Something wasn’t right.
“Mr. McDowell,” Greg said, stepping forward, all business in his black suit. “Everything’s ready.”
I scanned the warehouse, my eyes catching on the men lingering near the SUVs parked by the open overhead door. “You got men securing the place?”
“Of course,” Greg said, his hand brushing the earpiece tucked against his skull. “Mr. Mcdowell, your delivery is here... and right on schedule.”
A low rumble echoed outside, and a black van screeched into the warehouse, tires squealing as it jerked to a stop. My pulse quickened. Big Mike, all six-foot-five of him, climbed out of the driver’s seat, his face grim.
I forced a grin, trying to keep things light. “Hope she didn’t put up too much of a fight.” Mike didn’t laugh. His eyes darted to the van, and my stomach dropped. "She's not in the van, is she?"
“She’s in there, alright,” he said, his voice heavy. “But we hit a snag.”
“What kind of snag?” I snapped, patience thinning.
“She wasn’t alone,” Mike said. “Had a friend with her. The one they call Kiki. So we… improvised. Took ‘em both.”
My eyes narrowed, but a slow smile crept across my face. Two for the price of one? Christmas came early.
Greg drew his gun, motioning for Mike to open the van’s rear doors. “Slowly,” he ordered.
Mike nodded, moving to the back and easing the doors open. There they were—two blondes sprawled across the van’s cold metal floor, unconscious, their breathing shallow but steady. Virtue and Kiki... they looked like fallen angels delivered to my doorstep.
I let out a low chuckle, the unease in my gut replaced by a surge of excitement. “Take them to the basement,” I told Greg and Mike. “And Mike, grab that hooker lying on the floor. Dump her in a ditch somewhere.”
As they moved to obey, I stood there, hands in my pockets, staring at the van. The warehouse hummed with tension, the air thick with possibility. Virtue might’ve been my curse, but tonight, she was my prize. And I was just getting started.
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