Read Online Mobster's Gamble: Chicago Mob Series Book 1 by Amy Rachiele, Christine Leporte - Free Book Online Page B

about getting those idiots off his street corner and cock-blocking his business. It’s about us…” My blood flows, ripping through me. “That fucking piece of shit! He wants to start a turf war!”
    “No. He’d be stupid. He doesn’t have the backing.”
    “He doesn’t give a shit because he’s too full of himself. That shit with Ricco… He was sending a message.”
    Alex begins piecing it together too. “It helps his cause to get the cult on his side. Get them away from his business and fuck up ours.” He taps the granite with each word.
    “But why did they run? Why did the cult flee like that?”
    “They saw our guns drawn. It freaked them out,” Alex surmises.
    “No. It has to be more than that.” I rack my brain. “Something was off beside Caesar being there.” I snap my fingers. “The girl!” I lock eyes with Alex. “His girl wasn’t there.”
    “The chick we stopped. Lily, no, Kylie.” He wonders. “That isn’t his girl. You’re right. You asked about her and she said she was hurt.”
    “What did that mean?” I ask, not expecting Alex to really know the answer. “Did she sprain her ankle on one of their crusades? Did she break a fingernail? What the fuck?”
    “Who knows?” Alex shakes his head, stumped. “Whatever the hell goes on in their world is a mystery I want no fucking part of. Today was enough to keep them away for a while, if not permanently.”
    I am not as convinced as Alex and to top it off Kylie’s words are gnawing at me.
     

Chapter 11
Anya
    “Anything is possible if we stay together!” Priest preaches to the Anointed Heavens.
    We have been summoned to gather in his personal meditation room. This morning an odd conversation occurred when I woke up stiff and groggy. I had to find an exact way to lie down so that each injury didn’t hurt so badly that I could not sleep. I was back in his bed.
    “I know you are not feeling well.” Priest was lying beside me, his head resting on his forearm. “But I need you. I am assembling the group.”
    Not feeling well! Was this a sick joke? Going to sleep last night, I was afraid I would never wake up either from a concussion or him smothering me with a pillow because his guilt can so quickly change to revenge. Even though it took effort, I had faced away from him on my side, keeping my mouth shut. Small beaded tears welled in my eyes, despair being replaced with empowerment, at least on the inside. I envisioned my hands wrapped around his throat squeezing, watching him turn blue as I straddled him, choking him to death.
    “You are like their mother,” he cooed. “You represent a maternal comfort. We’re a team, you and me.”
    Nothing he says could make up for this. I’m like a rubber band that has snapped from overuse. My only option until I figure a way out of this is to play his game. But I’m not playing the same way I have all these years. And Priest isn’t going to like it. What more can he take from me?
    “Their guns! Their scare tactics! Those things should unite us. Not frighten us!” Then he quotes scripture. It is his way of pulling the group together. A round-about chastise for breaking the chain and running while demonstrating at the casino.
    “ I appeal to you, brothers, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment . First Corinthians chapter one verse ten!” Priest’s hands sway, imploring the followers to remember what we stand for as he warps the teachings of the Bible to suit his needs.
    A soft “Amen” comes from the crowd, lacking its usual enthusiasm. I can read the group; they are ashamed.
    “ Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to care for the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood. Acts chapter twenty, verse twenty-eight.”
    “Amen,” the Anointed Heavens members say more forcefully,