by Piper Stone
Dangerous Stranger
By
Piper Stone
Copyright © 2020 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Piper
Dangerous Stranger
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Image by Shutterstock/LightField Studios
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
More Stormy Night Books by Piper Stone
Piper Stone Links
Chapter One
Savannah
Galicia, Spain
Once upon a time I believed in fairytales, but my fantasies as well as my ideals had been stripped from me on two occasions. The first one had left me bitter, angry that the world would rip away something so beautiful and loving in an instant, as if a life didn’t matter. The second would forever haunt me, leaving me with nightmares, although I’d learned early on that there was significant evil in this world.
On that very night it was confirmed.
Monsters did exist.
Danger.
The nagging feeling had settled into the pit of my stomach, my heart racing.
I glanced out the window at as the taxi driver careened down the street, passing by dozens of vehicles. I still had a firm grip on my overnight bag, for no particular reason other than it held a vast majority of the only belongings that mattered to me inside. Everything precious had somehow managed to fit in a twelve by twelve case. I bit back a groan at the thought. I had no idea where I was, the street signs and brightly lit stores with bold writing meaning little to me.
While I knew passable Spanish, the onslaught of names seemed overwhelming, leaving me questioning my impetuous decision. A cold chill shifted down my spine as the driver made a sweeping right turn, moving onto what appeared to be an even more desolate street. Confusion settled in, the kind that left my mouth dry and my head aching even more than it was.
“Perdoneme,” I said as I leaned forward, glancing from right to left. This couldn’t be right. “Perdoneme!” I growled again when the driver didn’t bother to glance into his rearview mirror. A full thirty seconds passed and I was pissed, exhausted from the flight and hungry as hell. “I said. Excuse me!”
The driver grunted, finally lifting his head. “Yes, miss? Is there a problem?”
So the asshole spoke English after all. He’d likely found amusement in the butchering I’d done of their beautiful language. “Fine. Where the hell are we?”
“Almost at your destination, miss. A few blocks. No worries.”
No worries. I’d spent years of my life doing nothing but fighting anxiety. I bit back a nasty reply, the chill remaining, as I studied the surrounding area. There was nothing but dim street lighting and an occasional blip from a passing building. And it was getting dark quickly. My hackles were raised, a series of butterflies churning away in my stomach. “I don’t think this is right at all.”
“Are you certain?”
I fumbled to yank out the address from the case, struggling to read it in the dim lighting then forced to say the words in Spanish.
I could swear I saw the asshole smile.
“Are we really close?” I made certain my tone was demanding.
“Yes, miss. Three blocks.”
Huffing, I sat back in my seat, now clenching the bag until my fingers were aching. I’d barely debated my decision in coming here, wanting nothing more than a fresh start if only for a few months. Maybe I should have grilled my aunt with questions before agreeing to come to Galicia, Spain of all places. I remained tense while he made another turn, jerking sharply until the front tire hit the curb as he braked hard. At least there were several additional lights, including the windows in the surrounding buildings. Maybe everything would appear different in the morning.
I needed sleep, a glass of wine, and the promised food left in my aunt’s refrigerator. And not necessarily in that order. I peered out the window at what appeared to be a dilapidated building, cringing deep inside. I hadn’t seen my aunt in almost ten years. Maybe her grandiose tales of living the good life was nothing but a lie.
“We’re here,” the driver said in a more authoritative manner, as if I was holding up another fare. After taking several deep breaths, I finally grabbed the door handle, carefully stepping onto the curb. An eerie feeling washed over me as I scanned the perimeter, fighting a new wave of fear. I’d been in difficult situations my entire life, uncomfortable moments leaving me uncertain of everything from my safety to my worth. Standing alone on a deserted street corner wasn’t doing my courage any good.
Only then did he offer any help, moving toward the trunk in order to retrieve my larger suitcase. As he spouted off the fare amount, I couldn’t take my eyes off the rundown area, the flickering streetlight over my head highlighting trash blowing in the light breeze.
I grabbed the required amount, my hands clammy. “This certainly isn’t paradise.”
“No, miss. It is not. I suggest you be very careful on the street at night. There are many... bad men.” He yanked the money from my hand, pocketing it then moving quickly toward the driver’s side.
Bad men.
He had no way of knowing the kind of bad man I’d already dealt with in my life. There wasn’t an asshole on this planet who could top what I’d been through. Granted, as the driver revved the engine, his tires squealing as he peeled onto the street, I had difficulty breathing. I still had the address of my aunt’s flat in my hand, the nearly crumpled piece of paper my only lifeline to the country.
As I hoisted the suitcase into my hand, I could swear I felt dozens of eyes peering out from the windows lining the street. Watching me.
Studying me.
Hunting me.
I huffed, pushing away the ridiculous thought as I trudged toward the first building, eyeing the metal numbers drilled into it. Funny how they didn’t match those in my hand. A flash of anger rolled in, settling in the pit of my stomach. If the asshole had taken me to the wrong place, I was going to find a way to kick his ass. The wafting breeze brought various scents, my nostrils flaring from recognition of stale cigarettes, grease, and what had to be excrement. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
I studied both sides of the street, bolstering my courage as I rubbed my nose from the stench. The streets were wet, indicating recent rain and since the humidity had spiked, I hoped that the vile odor would be gone in the morning.
I took long strides up the sharp incline, passing a darkened alley until I was able to see another building plaque. At least there was a light on the facility itself, allowing me to see clearly that the numbers were
going in the wrong direction. Fuck. The moment I turned around, a sickening feeling washed over me as a shadowy form slipped into the alley barely twenty feet from me.
Swallowing, I slowly shifted my gaze across the street, trying to find any recourse should the jerkoff attempt some kind of attack. Only a few of the third and fourth floor windows were lit up, the sidewalk itself black as night. A moment of real fear skittered into every cell and muscle, my heart hammering. I continued walking forward, thrilled to see two cars coming in my direction, praying one of them was another taxi.
No such luck.
I walked quickly, making my way to another more brightly lit building, the all glass front door more inviting than the others.
Ping. Ting.
The sound was decidedly metal, as if something was being scraped against the well-worn brick. A blade. I’d heard the very sound on more than one occasion, the realization not as terrifying as it was startling that I’d actually know the sound from a full block away. I walked up the few stairs toward the entrance, praying to God the door was unlocked, but my instinct screaming that I’d have no such luck.
My gut feeling had been right, the door refusing to budge. I dared to take a glance over my shoulder while I tugged on the handle one last time. The monstrous figure was at least a solid two hundred and fifty pounds, his face remaining in the shadows.
Run. Run!
Danger.
My instinct kicked me in the gut, my mind reeling.
I had absolutely no recourse but to take off running. Within seconds, I was able to hear heavy, solid feet behind me, the man’s gait faster than I would have imagined given his massive size.
Terror ripped at every emotion, my entire mind reeling. I let off a solid wail, frantically looking for anywhere to go. The darkness was ominous, overpowering in every manner. I was in a city I didn’t know, in a country where people spoke little English and I’d fallen into a tourist’s biggest trap. I was a huge fucking fool. There was no one coming to save me, not a fucking soul on this street that would give a damn that a woman was being accosted.
My God, had the asshole laughed? The sound reverberated into my ears, dark and evil just like the man himself.
My anger turned to rage, flashes of light shifting across my field of vision. This motherfucker wasn’t going to kill me. I twisted around, tossing the larger bag in his direction, taking off running once again. Clothes I could do without. The anguished thud as the fucker tripped was satisfying, but the action had barely slowed him down. My God, he was gaining on me.
I heard the sound of another vehicle coming from the opposite direction. Then it slowed down, the headlights flashing in my direction. No. No!
This had been a setup. Oh, God. Oh, fuck!
As fast as I could run, the asshole was gaining on me. The sound of screeching tires matching my high-pitched scream as my feet pounded on the pavement. I jerked toward the street, weaving past a parked car in my effort to get to the other side. There was the sound of a car door, another pair of feet. My life flashed in front of my eyes.
Whoosh!
“Argh!” This time, the guttural scream hadn’t erupted from my throat, the deep bass echoing in my ears. Another hard thud was followed by an angry shout in Spanish. Suddenly, everything seemed to be in slow motion, the sounds exploding behind me vicious and brutal. When I no longer heard the sound of anyone following me, I turned, gasping for air, headlights from the same vehicle illuminating the street.
The light from the building washed over a small area, accentuating a man dressed in a white dinner jacket, his long raven hair pulled into a ponytail. There was no mistaking the shimmer of the knife in his hand, the reflection of the blade unmistakable. He snarled, kicking the man several times before standing to his full height, removing some kind of cloth from his pocket and wiping the blade.
Blood. He had to be wiping away blood from stabbing the asshole who’d been following me.
Ready to kill me.
By all rights, I should be paralyzed with fear, but another instinctual realization settled in. Whoever the stranger was, he had no intention of harming me.
From where I stood, I could clearly see the outline of the man who’d been following me, his body slumped onto the sidewalk. I suddenly realized I was walking closer, my body reacting while my mind attempted to process anything about the stranger who’d saved my life.
He tipped his head very slowly in my direction, his gaze locked onto mine and while there was no way I could see his eyes, I could swear they were boring into mine. Everything about him reeked of danger and possession, as if he owned the streets, and people were prepared to bow down to him.
After sliding the weapon into one pocket, he eased his phone from another. The husky sound of his voice floated in my direction, every word spoken in Spanish. I was still petrified, unable to process what had just occurred.
The roar of an engine caught my attention, the same vehicle moving closer to the stranger, a door opening. The headlights were suddenly blinding, forcing me to shield my eyes. Without any hurry in his step, the man walked toward the car. Before he climbed in, he took another look in my direction.
Acknowledging me.
Protecting me.
Wanting me.
Then the sleek vehicle drove past, the dark windows hiding those inside, but I could still feel his heated gaze.
As well as his burning desire.
Chapter Two
Rafael
I am the danger. I am the darkness. I am the hunter.
The statements were all true. There was great power in being labeled a dangerous man, the term instilling terror into the hearts and minds of my enemies.
I’d been born into a ruthless family, my father notorious for his brutality. I’d inherited his business savvy as well as his lack of mercy for fools and traitors. I’d also been given a gift by my mother—her love of music. I chuckled at the dichotomy of the two. I’d never known how two such different people could have fallen in love, but their passion continued to this day, providing their three sons with an unbridled respect of family.
I rubbed my eyes then donned my sunglasses as I stepped out of my Maserati, eyeing the beautiful landscaping surrounding the gothic building. I’d always been a sucker for architecture, my love of old ruins as a child providing extensive fantasies of Spanish conquistadors. The ornate detailing was exquisite, the stonework precise, all carved by hand. I couldn’t imagine how much time it had taken in order to design and build such a thing of beauty.
However, I wasn’t here to admire the structure or the pristine landscaping provided by dozens of daily workers. I had family business to attend to.
I glanced toward the two men I’d brought as protection as they pulled their vehicle into one of the parking spots. At this point, their presence inside wasn’t needed, the danger level low. Even a bloodsucking pig like Alviro Calleja wouldn’t dare attempt to assassinate the son of a mafia leader.
Or there would be hell to pay.
I was a man who appreciated the aspect of consequences, atonement for the dark and ugly sins of the trade. In my mind there should always be honor, even among opposing organizations, but that wasn’t always the case. I knew this meeting could potentially prove my point.
I didn’t bother buttoning my suit jacket, merely sliding the key fob into my pocket and heading to the door.
Enemies.
My family had far too many, the kind of people who’d forgotten about humanity. Our adversaries were ruthless in every manner, but not nearly as merciless as anyone from the Galicia mafia, of which my father had been the head for decades. Our family had been the ultimate power within Spain, driving the course of both criminal and legitimate business activities in our organization with an iron fist. It was insanity to cross us.
But someone had.
And one day, the monster would face my wrath personally.
Death was a part of my world, the grim reaper hungry for souls damned by their vicious, primal
nature. I was no different than anyone else in the business. I would meet my maker soon enough and there was no doubt I’d spend eternity enslaved in hell.
Death.
Exactly what I deserved, but not on this day.
Just before I walked inside, the crisp blue sky drew my attention. This was certainly a beautiful late afternoon, the warm breezes wafting the scent of jasmine and other flowers across my nose. I was surprised I was in such a good mood, especially given the job at hand. One of my soldiers had gotten wind that the second in command of the Los Charlines clan had actually stepped foot into one of the Santiago establishments requesting to speak with me. The asshole was either a fool or prepared to die.
However, I wouldn’t put anything past the new and very brutal leader of the Los Charlines.
My father had insisted that I honor the original terms that had been established with the Los Charlines clan, an agreement that had been made with the previous leader. The repugnant man had been gunned down by members of the Portuguese policia, although rumors had flown immediately about the person behind the assassination, a member of his own organization.
From all accounts, Calleja had risen from the very depths of hell, demanding respect from the various soldiers even before the former leader was dead and buried. He was a nobody before and in my mind was nothing but a rat in a cage.
I knew enough about Alviro Calleja to realize that he was little more than a pig. Reported to be of Sicilian and Portuguese descent, his love of playing games had been well documented. He was a man with no conscience, kidnapping and murder considered his mild tactics. It would be interesting to finally meet him in person one day, especially given the secrecy regarding his identity. The thought was amusing.
His second in command was just as barbaric; Manuel Peron little more than a thug, incapable of reasoning. Why send him for a conversation? He was in charge of the soldiers, his brutality almost as well known as the man he worked for. Something smelled of deceit and lies. While I’d honor my father’s wishes for now, allowing the man to walk out unharmed, I was certainly prepared for any situation.