despite the worry I had for Ronald’s safety. I took a step forward and realized that the tingle had left me a little more excited than I realized. I could feel the wetness between my legs. I walked into the living room and picked up my cell phone before darting upstairs. I fell back in bed and the thoughts came rushing back. I could feel my body being pushed against the wall, his cock slamming into my pussy over and over until I was completely soaked in desire. My breath picked up a little bit and I squirmed, squeezing my legs together. Braden was so damn hot, and he had left an impression on me, despite the pain inflicted on my body. I felt more tingling and closed my eyes before I realized it was my cell phone buzzing on the bed beside me. I picked it up, thinking it would be Ronald. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” I greeted the mysterious number apprehensively.
“Hello, Angela.” I knew the voice; it was unmistakable.
“Braden? How did you get my number?” I asked, but I really didn’t even care. I was just happy to hear from him.
“I have my ways. I’m going to send you an address. Be there tonight at seven o’clock.” The line went dead.
“Braden?” I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it. A text message popped up with an address.
Chapter 8: Braden
After staring at Angela’s picture for several minutes, I shifted my gaze over to her father’s image. He was the source of my hate and he deserved it. I looked over at Danielle, Angela’s little sister, and contemplated making her my target. She was a plain kind of pretty, not the ravishing beauty Angela was. No, she simply would not do. The pain would still be there for her father, but she would not look good in the headlines. I needed a face that would make people take notice, and Angela certainly had the ability to captivate. The message had to be clear. It had to tug at the heartstrings and it had to instill fear. How could the city trust a District Attorney to protect them when he couldn’t even keep his darling daughter alive? I heard a knock at my door and when I opened it, I was surprised to see Don Abrami standing there. He walked into my room without waiting for an invitation, not that he needed one. Anything that belonged to a member of the Family belonged to him.
“Stefano tells me that you were not successful on your mission last night.” He took a seat and I poured him a glass of whiskey.
“Unfortunately, I was not. There were too many people around.” I shook my head and poured a second glass for myself.
“Perhaps it was for the best. Vengeance does require proper timing.” He nodded as he took the glass and sipped it.
“It still has to be swift.” I replied, stating something he said to Stefano after Mary was killed.
“I don’t know if the other Families will have your back on this one, Braden. Killing the daughter of the District Attorney could have consequences for all five tables.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two Cuban cigars.
“I know.” I took one without hesitation and lit it up. “But he intentionally got my father killed. His name was on the document that stripped his protection in prison and threw him into gen pop.”
“He did, but he wasn’t the one who stabbed him.” Don Abrami replied.
“Yeah, a fucking Eight-Baller shanked him in the shower, but guess what—Madison knew that would happen! He knows we don’t have the numbers in prison, which is why we pay to keep them protected.” I shook my head in rage. “He declared war on the Mafia in his election campaign.”
“All politicians say that. They use us to get elected, and then they take our money to keep the peace. I agree that Madison needs to go, but a bullet would do the trick.” Don Abrami lifted his cigar to his lips and puffed it, inhaling all of the smoke into his lungs before
“Hello?” I greeted the mysterious number apprehensively.
“Hello, Angela.” I knew the voice; it was unmistakable.
“Braden? How did you get my number?” I asked, but I really didn’t even care. I was just happy to hear from him.
“I have my ways. I’m going to send you an address. Be there tonight at seven o’clock.” The line went dead.
“Braden?” I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it. A text message popped up with an address.
Chapter 8: Braden
After staring at Angela’s picture for several minutes, I shifted my gaze over to her father’s image. He was the source of my hate and he deserved it. I looked over at Danielle, Angela’s little sister, and contemplated making her my target. She was a plain kind of pretty, not the ravishing beauty Angela was. No, she simply would not do. The pain would still be there for her father, but she would not look good in the headlines. I needed a face that would make people take notice, and Angela certainly had the ability to captivate. The message had to be clear. It had to tug at the heartstrings and it had to instill fear. How could the city trust a District Attorney to protect them when he couldn’t even keep his darling daughter alive? I heard a knock at my door and when I opened it, I was surprised to see Don Abrami standing there. He walked into my room without waiting for an invitation, not that he needed one. Anything that belonged to a member of the Family belonged to him.
“Stefano tells me that you were not successful on your mission last night.” He took a seat and I poured him a glass of whiskey.
“Unfortunately, I was not. There were too many people around.” I shook my head and poured a second glass for myself.
“Perhaps it was for the best. Vengeance does require proper timing.” He nodded as he took the glass and sipped it.
“It still has to be swift.” I replied, stating something he said to Stefano after Mary was killed.
“I don’t know if the other Families will have your back on this one, Braden. Killing the daughter of the District Attorney could have consequences for all five tables.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two Cuban cigars.
“I know.” I took one without hesitation and lit it up. “But he intentionally got my father killed. His name was on the document that stripped his protection in prison and threw him into gen pop.”
“He did, but he wasn’t the one who stabbed him.” Don Abrami replied.
“Yeah, a fucking Eight-Baller shanked him in the shower, but guess what—Madison knew that would happen! He knows we don’t have the numbers in prison, which is why we pay to keep them protected.” I shook my head in rage. “He declared war on the Mafia in his election campaign.”
“All politicians say that. They use us to get elected, and then they take our money to keep the peace. I agree that Madison needs to go, but a bullet would do the trick.” Don Abrami lifted his cigar to his lips and puffed it, inhaling all of the smoke into his lungs before
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