Read Online Dark Soul Vol. 5 by Aleksandr Voinov - Free Book Online
Authors: Aleksandr Voinov
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be “admit”?
Was the bastard daring him to try to dig up dirt? But then, attacking a US Attorney would get him into even deeper trouble. Goddamn it.
He’d walked into that like a beginner, had let the guy play his game, carefully scripted hours if not days before their little conversation.
Fucking bastard. Fucking asshole.
One week wasn’t a lot of time to dig up anything. He had nothing but a name. And few people he could trust with this. He couldn’t even go to Falchi—impossible to trust him to not throw him under a bus when the authorities came cal ing.
This was a surgically precise application of pressure around his neck. And very much a warning: Struggle too hard and you’ll be in a world of pain. Worse. Disgraced. Dishonored. Shamed.
Dead.
Stefano rubbed his face. He would not lose his nerve now. He was good at this, too. He had to find a way out. Some way to neutralize that attorney asshole, some way to weasel out of it.
He stopped outside Silvio’s bungalow and noted the late autumnal chill in the air. It was really starting to get cold.
He grabbed the dog by its neck, put it on one arm, and knocked on the door. He probably looked like a complete fool with the cranky puppy squirming against his chest. Hopefully, Silvio was in as he’d promised.
The door opened. “Could have used your keys,” Silvio said, then paused and looked at the dog. If it hadn’t been impossible to read in his black eyes, Stefano would have sworn his pupils had dilated, which was a surefire sign of pleasure or attraction.
“Sorry, had my hands ful .” He jingled the car keys in the other hand.
Silvio blew out a breath. “Okay. Come in.”
Stefano walked in and closed the door behind himself. He turned back to face Silvio and smiled. “I guess this is happy birthday, Silvio.
I’m not singing, you know.”
“What?” Silvio frowned.
“October twentieth. Your birthday. I have it on authority that you didn’t just materialize on the mortal plane. It’s today, twenty-five years ago.”
Silvio grinned. “Weirdo. Thanks. Uh.” He reached out and touched the puppy’s ear, tentative at first, then, still carefully, its neck.
“You’re serious, she’s for me?”
“It’s a he.” Stefano handed the dog over, which squirmed when its paws found no purchase. Silvio stepped up immediately and cradled the dog to him. Stefano thought that was probably the most endearing thing he’d ever seen. He stared at Silvio for a few more moments, then cleared his throat. “I have a bag of stuff in the car. Let me get it.”
“Sure.” Silvio sat down with the dog, and when Stefano returned, bag in hand, the puppy was busy chewing on Silvio’s hand. Silvio grinned, then hissed and playfully closed the puppy’s snout. “No biting.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Stefano said, and the puppy disagreed, too, trying to push Silvio’s fingers away with both his paws.
“I have a pile of chew toys in here.” He set the bag on the kitchen counter and couldn’t stop staring at the man and the dog. There was just something fundamentally right about a good-looking guy with a stupidly cute puppy. “Any idea for a name?”
“Right now, it’s Sharky. Have you seen those teeth?”
“Barracuda and Sharky? Has a ring.”
Silvio laughed. “I guess.” He ruffled the puppy’s coat and looked intently at Stefano. “How did you know?”
“About your birthday? Franco told me.”
“Did he tell you about the dog, too?”
“Yeah, he mentioned you had a golden retriever as a kid. The little guy there has papers and some serious pedigree. Depending how he turns out, you could even go on show with him. Not that I think you would.” Okay, he was babbling. He shrugged. “Hard to buy something for a guy who has everything and doesn’t wear jewelry, you know.”
Silvio nodded. “Thanks. That’s . . . a great gift.”
“I like giving gifts.” To people I love. He smiled.
Silence settled between them, only interrupted
Was the bastard daring him to try to dig up dirt? But then, attacking a US Attorney would get him into even deeper trouble. Goddamn it.
He’d walked into that like a beginner, had let the guy play his game, carefully scripted hours if not days before their little conversation.
Fucking bastard. Fucking asshole.
One week wasn’t a lot of time to dig up anything. He had nothing but a name. And few people he could trust with this. He couldn’t even go to Falchi—impossible to trust him to not throw him under a bus when the authorities came cal ing.
This was a surgically precise application of pressure around his neck. And very much a warning: Struggle too hard and you’ll be in a world of pain. Worse. Disgraced. Dishonored. Shamed.
Dead.
Stefano rubbed his face. He would not lose his nerve now. He was good at this, too. He had to find a way out. Some way to neutralize that attorney asshole, some way to weasel out of it.
He stopped outside Silvio’s bungalow and noted the late autumnal chill in the air. It was really starting to get cold.
He grabbed the dog by its neck, put it on one arm, and knocked on the door. He probably looked like a complete fool with the cranky puppy squirming against his chest. Hopefully, Silvio was in as he’d promised.
The door opened. “Could have used your keys,” Silvio said, then paused and looked at the dog. If it hadn’t been impossible to read in his black eyes, Stefano would have sworn his pupils had dilated, which was a surefire sign of pleasure or attraction.
“Sorry, had my hands ful .” He jingled the car keys in the other hand.
Silvio blew out a breath. “Okay. Come in.”
Stefano walked in and closed the door behind himself. He turned back to face Silvio and smiled. “I guess this is happy birthday, Silvio.
I’m not singing, you know.”
“What?” Silvio frowned.
“October twentieth. Your birthday. I have it on authority that you didn’t just materialize on the mortal plane. It’s today, twenty-five years ago.”
Silvio grinned. “Weirdo. Thanks. Uh.” He reached out and touched the puppy’s ear, tentative at first, then, still carefully, its neck.
“You’re serious, she’s for me?”
“It’s a he.” Stefano handed the dog over, which squirmed when its paws found no purchase. Silvio stepped up immediately and cradled the dog to him. Stefano thought that was probably the most endearing thing he’d ever seen. He stared at Silvio for a few more moments, then cleared his throat. “I have a bag of stuff in the car. Let me get it.”
“Sure.” Silvio sat down with the dog, and when Stefano returned, bag in hand, the puppy was busy chewing on Silvio’s hand. Silvio grinned, then hissed and playfully closed the puppy’s snout. “No biting.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Stefano said, and the puppy disagreed, too, trying to push Silvio’s fingers away with both his paws.
“I have a pile of chew toys in here.” He set the bag on the kitchen counter and couldn’t stop staring at the man and the dog. There was just something fundamentally right about a good-looking guy with a stupidly cute puppy. “Any idea for a name?”
“Right now, it’s Sharky. Have you seen those teeth?”
“Barracuda and Sharky? Has a ring.”
Silvio laughed. “I guess.” He ruffled the puppy’s coat and looked intently at Stefano. “How did you know?”
“About your birthday? Franco told me.”
“Did he tell you about the dog, too?”
“Yeah, he mentioned you had a golden retriever as a kid. The little guy there has papers and some serious pedigree. Depending how he turns out, you could even go on show with him. Not that I think you would.” Okay, he was babbling. He shrugged. “Hard to buy something for a guy who has everything and doesn’t wear jewelry, you know.”
Silvio nodded. “Thanks. That’s . . . a great gift.”
“I like giving gifts.” To people I love. He smiled.
Silence settled between them, only interrupted
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