My Girl: Bloody Business Book Three

by AJ Wolf

  So I don’t push her. I just let her lay in my arms, and live in every moment. Even if it's just for the next few hours, my Laney Girl is all mine and I’m determined to watch her come as many times as I can. Hear my name on her lips over and over until she can’t say it anymore. She is my queen and I’m going to remind her of it.

  We stayed the night at the drive-in, sleeping for maybe two hours before the sun came up to ruin my bliss. My chest aches at the thought of her going to Donatello after this. He doesn’t fucking deserve her. She didn’t have any missed messages from him and it doesn’t sit well with me. I expected him to at least check in on her.

  Pulling into the lot with her car, I bite my lip at the sight of Donatello leaning against Laney’s car. She sits up in her seat, frowning at the sight of him. “Is that Donatello?” I don’t answer, but it most definitely fucking is. “Why is he here? How’d he know where my car was?”

  “He has a tracker on it.” I park the SUV, grabbing the brass knuckles from my center console as Laney watches me with obvious confusion. I also grab a smoke, tucking it behind my ear while I grab my lighter to stuff in my pocket. The brass sliding over my fingers last.

  “What are you doing?” I don’t look at her but I can see her fidgeting with the door handle like she’s not sure what she should do out of the corner of my eye, my actions making her more nervous. She doesn’t question the tracker. Which I guess why would she, she is sister to Capo Famiglia.

  “Laney Girl, in case you’ve forgotten, I just spent the night with you and that angry son of a bitch who hits with the force of a fucking bull is your actual boyfriend.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but the look on her face tells me that she’s getting what I’m saying. That Donatello definitely did not want her coming with me or having a good time. I open my door, pulling the revolver from the back of my waistband to toss onto the seat as Laney climbs out her side, walking toward Donatello with stiff shoulders. The gun is probably the only way I can actually win this fight, but that’s not how I plan to handle things. I’d rather get my ass handed to me with dignity.

  Although I know for a fact I’m about to get my face pummeled, it’s somewhat satisfying seeing him after having Laney spread for me all night, knowing that he was awake, thinking the worst every fucking second she was gone. As I get closer I can see he doesn’t have his rings on, and if I were a smarter man, I would turn around and leave while I still can walk. I open my mouth instead. “You know I was thinking I should have kept her a little longer, and now I wish I had.” I pull the cigarette out from behind my ear, holding it with my lips as I light it. Watching Donatello’s eyes snap from Laney to me. “But my fingers were starting to cramp up anyway.”

  Delaney’s face whips my way, her eyes wide at my words. It hurts my chest to have her hear me talk like that about her, but if Donatello’s anger is on me she won’t get the worst of it. Especially when she doesn’t even deserve it.

  “Say goodbye to your pup, Vita Mia. Because it’s the last time you’ll see him while he can still breathe.”

  Pulling a drag from my smoke, I watch him as he rolls his shoulders, tongue rolling over his teeth as he mentally plans out exactly how he’s going to break me. If I’m being completely honest with myself, my plan of hoping he won’t kill me because of Laney is starting to look like a terrible fucking one.

  “Donatello. Don’t do this.” Laney puts her hand on his arm and the look he gives her has me dropping my cigarette onto the ground and crushing it as I make my way to him. Her hand drops from his arm like he’s on fire, the pain etched across her beautiful features carved into my own heart. Fucking prick.

  He’s still looking at her when my brass knuckles connect with his cheek. A cheap shot I’m not even ashamed of because he fucking deserved it and it’s likely the only chance I’ll get to have a decent hit. Laney screams at the contact, Donatello’s shoulder’s turning with the force of the blow.

  Everything moves in slow motion within the next few seconds. I see the exact moment Donatello lets his monster loose; the manic smile that twists his lips, dilated pupils almost covering his entire iris. It’s like I didn’t even hit him, and if I hadn’t physically seen him move, or see the blue instantly blooming across his cheek, I would have thought I’d missed him. I see his hit coming, the swing of his arm headed straight for my jaw. I know if he’s able to make that contact, I’m fucking done.

  I drop to duck it, just to get his left hook straight to my ribs. And fuck does it hurt, the air shoved from my lungs, chest heaving as it tries to suck more in without success. I take a wild swing, feeling my fist connect with the solid mass of his side. It shuffles him enough I’m able to block his next punch, the air slowly leaking back into my chest as I shove off him, putting much needed space between us.

  He stands to his full height, hands relaxed in front of him like this is a casual boxing match. He smiles, goading me into movement. “Scared pup?”

  I don’t take his bait, eyeing the way he pivots with me. Mentally calculating how and where he can hit me if I move a certain way. He’s used to fighting people who don’t know how he fights and I can use that to my advantage to last just a little bit longer. Because let’s be honest here, I’m not going to win against this fuck. Jumping into his space I take the fist I knew was coming to my mouth, ignoring how my teeth shred the inside of my lip and my mouth fills with blood. I immediately hit him in the face, connecting with the same cheek as before with a double tap that sends blood spraying across the pavement.

  He slams me to the ground with his body. My back smacking against the ground so hard my teeth rattle in my head as he hits me with a barrage of jabs to the ribs. He’s aiming most of his punches to my right side, intentionally hitting the same spot over and over. I can’t swing my arm in the position I’m in so I use my elbow, using all the strength I have to slam my forearm into the side of his head not letting up until he’s forced to stop throwing punches. As he pulls away I can see blood trickling from the drum of his ear.

  I see the next hit coming for my face and throw an arm up, it taking most of the blow instead of my face. In an attempt to get out from under him, I buck my hips, knee slamming into his back hard enough he jostles, giving me the space I need to roll away. He lets me stand, his dark eyes watching me grab my ribs, a small smile telling me he’s just figured out how he’s going to end this. He doesn’t wait for me to move this time, starting to step forward when Delaney starts yelling.

  “Donatello! You told me I could do this. You said it was my choice!”

  He pauses, eyes never leaving mine. For the sake of myself, I hope he’ll fucking listen to her.

  “I lied.”

  It’s the last thing I hear before I’m knocked on my ass, ears ringing and neck throbbing with the angle it was jerked with his hit. Pressing my palms on the ground I try to push myself up but he kicks my ribs. The same ones he’s been hitting, and I curl with the force, my body taking it upon itself to try and protect me since I haven’t been doing such a great job of it. Logically, I know I need to get my ass up if I want to even attempt to live through this, but I can’t get my body to listen. My ribs scream in pain as I lift onto my elbow. I finally get myself in a position where I can look at Donatello, just to find him standing over me, waiting for me to make eye contact just so he can kick me again, rolling me onto my back this time.

  He crouches down, forearms resting against his knees as he squats by me. Blood is dripping from his bruised cheek and ear, a split on his lower lip, the only physical damages I was able to inflict. His knuckles are bloodied and scraped from hitting me, the metallic tang in my mouth and sharp, throbbing pain in my ribs that burns with each breath telling me they’re more than bruised.

  “Was it worth it, pup?”

  I spit at him, blood spraying across his forearms and splattering along the bottom half of his face but he doesn’t even blink. “She’ll always be worth it.”

  “How romantic of you.” He stands, boot co
nnecting with my ribs once more as I try to turn away, but I’m moving too slowly to avoid it and it rocks me back onto my stomach.

  When the next kick doesn’t come, I force myself onto my forearms and knees, cradling my side as I look to see what he could possibly be waiting for now. But instead of an angry Donatello in my face, I see him getting held back by Capo Bastone, Andrea. He looks angry as fuck, yelling into Donatello’s face something I can’t hear. Gritting my teeth, I move to sit on my knees, slowing rising onto my feet as I cradle my ribs. Using my dirty palm, I wipe the blood from my mouth, trying to focus past the ringing in my head to get a bearing on what the fuck is happening.

  Laney pops in front of me, the tears running down her cheeks more painful than any of the hits I just took. “I’m fine, Laney Girl.”

  She shakes her head at me, fingers coming up like she wants to touch me but she’s afraid it’ll hurt. She settles on cupping my cheek and I try to smile for her. “You’re not fine. Donatello would have killed you if I hadn’t called Andrea.”

  Her words end on a sob and I raise a hand to hers on my face, wincing with how the movement tweaks my ribs. More tears blink from her eyes as she watches me. “Didn’t you see me kicking his ass out here?”

  She doesn’t laugh or smile at my attempted joke, doesn’t even attempt to pretend for me. Andrea steps up beside her, lightly bumping her shoulder to get her to move back from me. I slowly shift so I’m face to face with him. “What the fuck are you doing, Wolf?”

  My eyes flick over to Delaney at the use of my nickname, but she either didn’t notice or doesn’t care that he used it. She’s probably too in her own head to notice the familiarity, her eyes staring out at the docks and not even looking at us.

  He decides he doesn’t care what I was going to say, talking when I go to open my mouth. “Did you fucking forget who the fuck Donatello Genovese is? Use that fucking head of yours and remember your place. If Remy were here, he would have sat back and watched you die, calling it a life lesson.” He turns from me to Delaney, startling her when he grabs her upper arms, slightly shaking her like a child. “What the fuck am I supposed to tell your brother? Huh? Why can’t you find an average joe to fuck around with? Why do you keep picking the ones that give me the biggest fucking headache?”

  She looks down at her hands, and if I weren’t in so much pain, my dumbass would probably try and pick a fight with Andrea over it too. “I’m sorry.” It’s whispered to the pavement and Andrea bends, making her look at his face.

  “I won’t tell Remy, Piccolina, but you need to figure this out on your own. I’m not a miracle worker.” She nods, a quiet “thank you” said before he drops his hands.

  “Go get yourself checked out and hurry up. You have a new job to take care of by the end of the night.” I watch his back as he walks away getting into his SUV and leaving, eyes moving to find Donatello standing in the same place I saw him before, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at Laney.

  Touching my arm with her fingertips, she gets my attention, “Should I come with you… to get looked at?”

  I grab her hand, lifting her fingers to my mouth and kiss the tips. There’s blood staining her fingers when I let them go, but she ignores it. “No. You should go stay with Beverly.”

  She nods, eyes flicking over to Donatello and back. “Okay. Just… call me. Later, when you’re home.”

  “I will. Go, Laney Girl.” She swallows but listens, walking toward her car without looking at Donatello again.

  We both watch her drive off, turning to stare at each other as soon as she’s out of sight. He moves first and I straighten my shoulders, dropping the hand from my ribs even though the pain makes me want to puke. I don’t think he’s going to hit me again, but I wouldn’t doubt it.

  “Your guardian angel must be working overtime, Jessie Mariani. This is the second time you’ve managed to get out of an early grave.”

  I sneer at him, swallowing back more blood. “Lucky me.”

  He chuckles, the dark dirty sound I’m used to hearing come from him. “Third time’s the charm.” He moves too quickly for my bruised body, slamming his fist into my ribs for what feels like the hundredth time, shoving my bent form onto the ground. “We’ll pick this up later.”

  He leaves me gasping on the pavement, speaking over his back. “Better get along pup, you’ve got work to do.”

  Halfway to Bev’s house, I pull over realizing I can’t go there unless I want Remy to know something is wrong. He’s just recently started treating mine and Donatello’s relationship with borderline decency and if I show up with this new mess, any progress we’ve made will be ruined. If that even matters anymore.

  I want to hate Donatello for what he did, hate him for trying to get rid of the only good thing I’ve ever loved. But I could never hate him, even when I thought I hated him before it wasn’t hate. It was hurt masked as hate, and even now I can’t conjure up the feelings I should have. I know that without a doubt, he would have killed Jessie if I hadn’t been able to get a hold of Andrea. I was just lucky he was already at one of the out stations, or he never would have made it in time. And even knowing that, I can’t fucking hate him. Do I honestly think I would have reacted differently if I were him?

  Leaning my head on the steering wheel I close my eyes, lightly banging my forehead against it. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I should probably just go home and talk to Donatello, figure out where we stand in this. Where Jessie and I stand. I should never have let last night happen. I should have cut ties with Jessie the moment I decided to be with Donatello. But I’ve always been selfish, and now Jessie’s paying for it. He will always be the one to pay for it unless I do what I should have done sooner, protect him from myself and my selfish heart.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull back on to the road turning toward my house. I don’t know if Donatello will be home yet, but I hope he is. I could call and find out, but I don’t want to talk to him just yet. I need the twenty or so minutes it’ll take me to get there to prepare myself for whatever he has to say.

  It takes me almost fifteen minutes just to get out of the car once I’m home. Staring at the inside of the garage, jumping at anything I hear thinking Donatello has come to find me out there. I’m not scared of Donatello, but I am scared to have this conversation. Going inside, I kick my sandals off, pinching my lip with my fingers as I gather up the courage to walk to the bedroom. Standing in the hall just in front of the door, I can’t hear Donatello inside the room, but I know he’s in there. The smell of his body wash coming from the open master bathroom door.

  Stepping into the room, I watch as Donatello pulls a tee over his head, the bruising along his cheek has grown, blotching up to his hairline, a dark shadow under his eye. He brushes his hands through his hair, still not realizing I’m in the room and I can see the bruises also covering his knuckles and fingers. My heart hurts at the sight, reminding me that I never even checked on him after the fight. I’d been too angry and caught up in my emotions to think of anything past Jessie almost dying, to wonder if he needed me. Then again, he’s the one who almost killed Jessie.

  “Were you really going to kill Jessie?” I know the answer, but I want to hear him say it.

  His head turns at my voice, dark eyes sweeping over me like he’s surprised I’m there. “I thought you’d go with Jessie.” The way he says it tells me how much he loved the thought as well.

  “Were you?”

  He stares at me a moment, sitting on the end of the bed, but not looking at me. “Yes.” His eyes flick up to mine, ebony in the light. “I was going to kill Jessie Mariani.” My lip starts to tremble and he stands, coming to stand in front of me, thumb brushing along the bottom of my quivering lip. “And I still might.”

  “Why?”

  He wipes a tear from my cheek, palming my face. Leaning to press a soft kiss on my lips. His dark eyes are almost as sad as I feel. “You.”

  Every breath hurts. It’s all I can think about as I stare at the client
sitting across from me. Interrupting him, I motion for the waiter, “Does anyone here have ibuprofen or something?”

  Her eyes coast over my busted lip and bruised jaw before meeting mine again. “I might have some in my purse, I can go check for you?”

  I attempt to smile at her, but I can feel it turn into a grimace. “That’d be greatly appreciated.” Nodding, she turns from us, and I look back at the suit in front of me. “Sorry it’s been one hell of a day, but if I’m understanding correctly and mind you I’m being vague, you need me to find someone who’s doing something they shouldn’t, and kill them?”

  His eyes go wide, looking around the diner like he’s worried I’m talking too loudly. It wouldn’t matter even if I were, the Famiglia owns this diner and everyone in it. It’s the reason we’re even here for this conversation. I attempt another smile at the waitress as she drops off two little pills, mouthing my thank you before downing them with the glass of water in front of me.

  “Am I right or not?”

  He nods, the bald spot on his head catching the light from above making it shine. “Yes. Do you need me to send you any extra information? Identification?”

  I stand from the booth, using the table to help support my weight and refraining from grabbing my ribs in front of everyone. “Nope. I have an excellent memory Mr. Blanche, no need to repeat anything unnecessary and drag things along any longer than you already have.”

  I’m already halfway down the aisle toward the door when he yells back. “Oh, okay… and payment?”

  Not looking over my shoulder, I push the door open, “We’ll come to collect.”

  Climbing into my SUV I sit back in the seat, frowning through the pain getting in the vehicle made. Four dislocated ribs and several fractures and cracks. That’s what Donatello was able to do in approximately ten minutes. Fuck do I hate him.