Page 29 of Alluring Darkness
Heat spreads through my core. The complete control they have over this couple, without even uttering a single word or moving one muscle, is making my heart pound and my clit throb.
“We’ll do whatever you want,” the woman calls, desperation lacing her voice. “But wehavepaid our dues for this month. I swear. Please, call Mr. Morelli.”
Eli slides his phone out of his pocket and then moves his thumb as if he’s calling someone. But from this angle, I can see that the screen is black. He holds it to his ear.
After pretending to listen to the nonexistent person on the other end of the line, he puts the phone back into his pocket and says, “You’re fine.”
Both of them drag in a shuddering breath of relief. But they stay on their knees, as if waiting for permission.
Eli jerks his chin. “Go back inside.”
My clit aches with dark desire as I watch the couple hurry back inside while thanking the Hunters repeatedly. I shift my weight, pressing my thighs together. Jesus Christ, power like this is so fucking hot.
I scoot back to the middle of the seat as the Hunters return to the car. No one says anything as they get in and put their seatbelts on. After rolling up the window again, Eli does a U-turn and then drives back out of the neighborhood.
Only when we’re back on the big road have I gathered my thoughts enough to shake my head and ask, “What just happened?”
“The first thing you need to know is that there are two types of assassin families,” Eli says while keeping his eyes on the road. “There are the ones who are completely anonymous. The ones who look like just an average American family that no one ever suspects.”
Likemyfamily. But I can’t tell him that, so I just nod instead.
“And then there are families like ours,” he continues. “The ones who everyone fears because they all know that we are killers for hire.”
“But if everyone knows that you’re hitmen, why don’t they just report you to the police?”
“Because they all know that we are the Morelli family’s closest allies and most trusted assassins.”
Even if they hadn’t forced my mom to sign away our fortune as payment for Dad’s screw-up, I would have known who the Morelli family is. Everyone does. They’re Italian mafia. In fact, they’re the largest, and most dangerous, mafia family in this entire state.
I flick a quick glance over the four brothers, once again noting their dark hair and brown eyes and olive complexion.
“You’re related to them?” I say. It’s half statement, half question.
“Yes,” he replies. “Our mother is a Morelli.”
“I see.” My mind is working hard to process all of this information, but I need to know more so I keep pushing. “But even so, if people know that you commit murder, why hasn’t anyone called the police on you?”
“Someone tried that once.” Eli meets my gaze in the mirror. “What do you think happened to them?”
On my left, Jace scoffs and adjusts the bat on his shoulder. “Besides, do you really think we’re stupid enough to leave any actual proof?”
“We also have half the police force in our pocket,” Rico adds nonchalantly from the front seat.
“I see,” I repeat.
A smirk spreads across Eli’s lips as he meets my gaze in the rearview mirror again. “So that’s why they all bend over and take it in the ass like a little bitch.” Cruel amusement flickers in his eyes. “Because then we let them live.”
I snort and roll my eyes at him.
Outside the windows, the sun has now set and darkness spreads across the fields. Only the streetlights along the road break up the gloomy landscape around us.
We drive in silence the rest of the way while I process this information.
Deep down, I know that I probably should be terrified right now. Eli has just told me that his family is related to the Italian mafia family that rules this state with an iron fist. That they kill anyone who dares to oppose them and that they have the police on their payroll, which means that they also get away with their murders. And I’m currently alone with all four of them in a car.
They could just take me to the woods right now and put a bullet in the back of my head, and no one would ever know. But for some reason, I just can’t bring myself to be scared.
I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t think they would actually kill me, or if the way I grew up has just made me so used to death that my sense of self-preservation is somehow simply broken.