Sophie Antonelli: Brutal Attachments, #6

By Z.Z. Brulant

The Devil's Doughboys want me dead.

 

There's only one person who can protect me.
Gabriele Antonelli.
He's haunted.
He's violent.

And he won't let me out of his sight.

 

He says it's for my own good. 
He's probably right.
Staying with him might be the best thing for me.

 

But there's one problem.

 

He's wanted for murder.
If I get caught with him, I might end up in prison.
But if I turn him in…

I'm terrified. But also tingling with excitement. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LFD Romance Books
• Release date: Apr 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224458226

Book preview

Sophie Antonelli: A Dark Mafia Romance

Brutal Attachments, 6

Sophie Antonelli: A Dark Mafia Romance

Brutal Attachments, 6

Z.Z. Brulant

Copyright © 2023 LFD Romance Books

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

1. Gabriele

Rain pounded against the car windows. The engine groaned as we sped down the highway. I looked behind us and could barely see anything, just the wipers going back and forth and a few headlights. At any moment, I expected to see blue and red lights, expected to hear the explosion of sirens. But so far we hadn’t been spotted.

Sophie’s head rested in my lap. Once her trembling finally stopped, she’d been able to close her eyes while tears streamed down her pale cheeks. In all the commotion of the last several hours, I had forgotten to ask her why she’d run away. What was she afraid of? Did she trust me to be able to protect her? Did she really think that I was as violent and sadistic as those bikers? There were so many questions that I needed to ask her. So many doubts that I needed her to clear up for me. But that would have to wait. Until we got to safety. Until we put a great deal of distance between us and our enemies.

In the front seat, our blond-headed driver had his hands tightly wrapped around the steering wheel and his foot all the way down on the gas. A submachine gun lay menacingly on the passenger seat.

Only about 20 minutes more, he said, swerving unnecessarily in and out of the sparse early morning highway traffic, jostling us from side to side in the back seat.

The rain continued its rapid-fire assault on the vehicle. A faint smell of cigarettes tickled my nostrils. I wiped them and frowned. I wasn’t looking forward to spending much more time with this guy. But I wasn’t going to have much of a choice. He was the only person that I could turn to.

The window wipers swung back and forth furiously.

My father had given me the number years ago. I hadn't wanted to make the call.

Only use it when you absolutely have to. Do you understand? He said, gripping my shoulders and staring deeply into my eyes.

I nodded up and down, having no idea what awaited me in the years to come.

Wilson was the name of the private security specialist who had worked for the Antonelli family for years. He was first hired by my grandfather and then when he was killed, he started working for my uncle Leonardo. That was until a deadly raid on the Upper East Side Mansion, in which Leonardo, his wife Caroline, and the tall, white-haired security man were all killed.

Unfortunately, the bastard who would end up killing my father, Vincenzo, was able to escape the attack unscathed. He’d hurried through an underground tunnel that took him to my father’s warehouse. My father had been the only person in the world who was willing and capable of protecting him.

And how did he repay the favor? By pumping him full of lead.

Just thinking about it made the veins bulge in my neck and forehead. I wanted to put that behind me. I desperately did. But unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The dare-devil driver steering us through this storm was the grandson of Wilson. He was the person I’d called when Sophie and I had gotten close to the US-Canadian border. I wanted to get us back to the US or wherever we would be safe. Wherever the authorities weren’t hunting me for a murder I didn’t plan on committing, wherever the Devil’s Doughboys wouldn’t be able to sink their claws into me and Sophie.

So I called him. Within two hours he'd been able to pick us up in a town just north of the Canadian border. Now we were heading to a small airport.

He said he knew what needed to be done and had all the right connections. I wasn't sure I believed him. But I didn't have any choice but to hope that he knew what he was doing.

As a child, I remembered encountering his tall, stern, and stately grandfather. Always impeccably dressed, calm, and sure of himself, he was everything you'd expect from a private security man who was at the top of his craft.

I was less than impressed with the appearance of his shabby-looking grandson whose clear, sky-blue eyes had cloud-sized bags underneath them. And whose thinning blonde hair probably should have been shaved years ago. The three-day, possibly longer stubble, and the faint smell of whiskey on his breath didn't give me much confidence either.

He was supposed to be in his late 30s but could have easily passed for 50.

Sophie lifted her head and wiped her eyes. Are we almost there yet?

I nodded up and down, then ran my fingers through her hair.

Whatever happened, I would ensure that she would never have to suffer. I wouldn’t be captured alive. Because that would mean that she would have to pay for my crimes. Even if the authorities let her go, it wouldn't be long until the Devil's Doughboys came after her,. Those were two things that I wasn't going to let happen. Not for anything in this fucking world.

Hold on folks. The terrain is about to get a bit rough.

The car veered off the road and we were plunged into darkness. We moved through the wilderness, with only the headlights illuminating the path.

What the hell are you doing? I barked. Why did you turn off the highway?

Just calm down. I got this.

I was tempted to grab the machine gun in the front seat, point it at his head, and order him to stop. We would do this on our own. We didn't need some crazy, drunk, washed-up adrenaline junkie steering us to our deaths.

But within a few minutes, we emerged from the wilderness. And then we were riding through a field, then cutting down a back road. In the distance, I could have sworn I saw what looked like a hangar.

I sat back in the seat and shook my head from side to side. Maybe this crazy bastard did know what he was doing.

The car came to an abrupt stop. I held Sophie tightly as our bodies jerked forward.

Fuck, I said under my breath. Do you mind warning us when you're gonna brake like that?

With all due respect, how I break is the least of your worries. I think you should just let me drive how I want to.

I gritted my teeth. I felt like strangling him. But he had a point. This wasn't the time to be arguing about how he maneuvered the vehicle. He had gotten us this far. But I wasn’t in the least bit excited about the fact that he was also going to be the one guiding us through the clouds.

Moments later, we were hurrying out of the car and onto a small plane. Sophie and I got into the back and the private security man plopped down in the front seat.

10 minutes into the flight, I couldn't contain my anxiety anymore. I had to know what he had planned. I was putting my faith in him. He'd been in this business longer than I had.

Are we touching down at LaGuardia? I asked. Or Westchester?

He turned around, smirked, and shook his head.

No chance. Cops would be on us in a second if we touched down in New York. And besides, my license is currently suspended.

My mouth opened wide. Suspended?

Why was your—

He waved his hand in the air before I could finish the question. It’s a long story, he said. And at this point, it really doesn’t matter.

It took all of my restraint not to start swearing at him.

So where are we heading? I asked.

Where do the Antonellis always go when they get in trouble? He replied.

I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes.

After a few minutes of tossing my head from side to side and trying to shake off all the violent images that kept surging into my mind, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to sleep. What I really wanted to do was to scream and unleash a torrent of emotions. I wanted to cry out to the heavens and ask why this life had been given to me. Why had I been chosen to