Chase the Pain: A Dark Mafia Billionaire Romance (Amatucci Family Book 1)

by Sadie Jacks

  “Do bad guys help strange women down stairs?” She took my hand and eased her obviously pained body down the six-inch rise of the step.

  Shut the fuck up. No more talking. “Well, I can’t be bad all the time. That would just be exhausting. You caught me on my annual day of redemption.” Like someone else had taken control of my brain, I felt my hand slide over her hip. My arm angled behind her back.

  “Pretty sure bad guys don’t care about redemption. But thank you…again.” She got a death grip on my hand and hobbled her way down the stairs.

  She was slower than my arthritic grandmother during the winter. “You’re welcome. Can I ask what happened.”

  “You can.” She was busy watching her feet, her body swayed slightly from side to side.

  I’d learned my lesson the last time. Not a Chatty Cathie, this one. Even more curious. “What happened?”

  “A jackhole and a table.”

  The idea that some asshole had left her in this condition had my shoulders tensing. “A man hurt you?” The part of me that was still human laughed uproariously. You hurt women all the time, dipshit. What’s with the righteous anger? I told that part of myself to take a fucking hike. It wasn’t the same. My girls didn’t end up in the hospital, scared out of their minds.

  She shrugged. “Not precisely.” She gave me some ridiculous story about her best friend. Somehow it ended with her patting my arm. ‘I’ll be okay. You don’t want to waste your redemption day on me. You won’t get enough points.”

  “There’s no hope for me anyway,” I mumbled it against her hair as we turned to the second last landing.

  She asked for my phone. “Need to call someone?” About fucking time, pet.

  She nodded, her hair sliding over my chin. “I need to call a friend to come pick me up.”

  “A boyfriend?” I eased her against the wall, glad her eyes were mostly closed. I didn’t want to know anything else about her. Just how to get her off my hands. I could find another woman, one who already knew my tastes to ease the ache that had sprung up.

  One was just as good as another in my mind. Interchangeable as long as they had working mouths and cunts.

  “He’s a guy, but I can’t lose him, so we’re just family.”

  She’s already taken and she flirts like this? And who the fuck lets his woman, even if she was a sister type, run around while she clearly needed medical help? My brow furrowed as my gaze heated. “He shouldn’t have left your side. If you were mine, you wouldn’t be out of my sight.”

  She looked up at me. Like a little mouse cornered by a cat, she stilled as she watched me. “Boys are a lot of work.”

  I felt the corner of my mouth tick up as a laugh escaped. “Pretty sure you mean women are work.” This one had some of the weirdest thoughts that just fell from her lips.

  She chuckled. Gave me some kind of crap about the differences between men and women. “Ready for that number yet, Thor?”

  That pansy in the cape with the long hair? I’d had better for breakfast. “Definitely not a god, sweets. Real or imagined.” I grabbed my phone. “Yeah, give me the number.”

  I stabbed it into my phone. Just as I hit the connect button, she listed off to the side. Straight for the fucking steps once again. The woman had a death wish. “Shit.” I caught her before she face planted the rest of the stairs. “You really should be in a bed.” I wedged her body between me and the wall.

  “Only if it’s yours or mine,” she whispered.

  I startled at the idea of her in my bed.

  “Don’t let him find me.”

  She went limp.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 4 – Ryker

  I wedged the phone between my chin and my shoulder, waited for it to be picked up on the other end. “Come on.” I eased my body away from the woman and helped slide her down the wall so she was flat on the floor. I watched her chest to make sure it was still moving.

  “Who is this?” a gruff voice demanded over the line.

  “I’ve got a brunette woman in my arms. She’s passed out in the stairwell of General Mercy Hospital.”

  “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll fucking tear your life apart,” he said.

  I snarled. “Would I be calling you if I planned to hurt her? Who are you?” I didn’t need this shit on top of the rest of my day. Try to be a good Samaritan and it bites you on the ass.

  “Which stairwell?” he demanded.

  “Who are you?” People did not talk to me like that. The man obviously had no idea who he was talking to. At the moment, it was not the blessing it usually was. Now it just annoyed the fuck out of me.

  “I’m the man who’s going to kill you if you take her somewhere. Where the fuck are you?”

  I cut the call. Slid my phone into my pocket. He obviously didn’t care as much as she thought he did. “Call Baxter,” I said into my watch. The call connected almost immediately. “Meet me at the back entrance. Have the back door open for me.”

  I disconnected as I eased my hands under her shoulders and knees. Pulled her body against my chest. Tried to keep the images flashing through my mind to a minimum. Her body was perfect.

  I trotted down the last flight of stairs and walked out the rear exit. The black car slid to a quiet stop as my driver and bodyguard got out from behind the wheel. He darted around the car and opened the back door for me. I laid my package down on the back seat, moved around to the other side of the car and slid in next to her.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?” he asked, his voice a gravely whisper.

  “Home. For now.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialed my IT expert. “I need a run on a number.” I rattled off the number.

  “It’s almost four in the morning, Ryker,” her voice was smooth and very awake.

  I laughed. “And you’re either still awake or have been for hours. I need it Nik. Now. Highest accuracy.”

  She laughed. “Hang on.” She let out a low whistle after a moment. “What the hell have you gotten into, Ryke?”

  “Who is it?”

  “Ever heard of the Amatuccis?”

  It was my turn to whistle long and low. Looked at the unconscious woman on my car seat. “She’s mixed up with the crime family that rules most of New Trenadie?”

  “What?” Nik asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Thanks for checking.” I ended the call before she could ask any more questions. Not that it would stop her from snooping, but at least I wouldn’t have to hear about her findings.

  My phone rang. PRIVATE NUMBER showed on my screen. I clenched my teeth. Hit the accept button. “What?”

  “I hope you have your funeral planned already, Ryker Penn. You took what’s ours.”

  I smiled. “I’m not afraid of the Amatuccis. Which one are you, by the way? She didn’t get a chance to tell me before she passed out.’

  Simmering silence filled the other end of the call.

  I shrugged. Didn’t have time to play in pissing contests. “Well, thanks for calling.” I lowered the phone.

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me,” he shouted down the line.

  “Then start talking.” I waited a beat. Rolled my eyes as he stayed silent. I think I knew where Willow got her reticence. “Now.”

  “Domenico.”

  Finally. “And who is she? Some asshole was calling her Willow.”

  He inhaled a noisy breath. “You kidnapped her and don’t even know her fucking name?”

  “First of all, I didn’t kidnap her. Second, I kept her secret. Helped her escape down the stairs. If you care for her so much, where the fuck were you? Why was she running down the stairs when it looks like she can barely hold her head up?”

  “Don’t worry about that, tell me where you are and I’ll take her off your hands.”

  “She’s staying in my hands until she tells me, with her own mouth, that she wants to be in yours.” I clenched my fists. Set my back teeth. I wanted to rip something apart. Here was a guy who was more than happy
to take her off my hands. What the fuck was I doing playing keep away?

  “I swear by all that’s holy to you, if you touch her—”

  “We don’t know each other well enough for you to be making that kind of threat. Despite what’s been written about me, I’ve never abused a woman so badly she needed a hospital. And I’m certainly not about to start now with one who is unconscious.” I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The need to break and maim curled my fingers into fists.

  Domenico blew out a heavy breath. “What the fuck even happened?”

  I took a moment to breathe deeply. “I don’t know. I was coming from a different floor. She was on the stairs, looking like death.” I gave him the brief rundown of our acquaintance.

  “I’m going to kill that bastard,” he said under his breath.

  “If he’s the one who made her trust a stranger in a hospital, then I’ll be glad to help hide the body.” I remembered who I was talking to. “Not that you need the help.”

  He huffed a breath. “I see you’ve done your research as well.”

  “Usually do when people threaten me.”

  “Just keep that in mind. Look,” an odd scraping sound came over the line. “My brother is a trained medic. Tell me where you are, he’ll come get her.”

  I laughed. “I’m still not handing her over until I hear from her lips that she wants to leave with you. Or your brother.” I tacked the last one before he could say anything.

  The long breath of profanity that blew down the line had me raising my brows. I lived a hard life and don’t know that I would’ve been creative enough to string those together. I might steal them though. They were eloquently brutal.

  “And we’re right back where we started. Who is she?” I asked after he was done.

  “I need your promise of discretion. Anything about her comes out and I find that the leak came from you, there won’t be anything you can do to hide from me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, stow the threats. They don’t work on me. What’s her. Fucking. Name?” I enunciated each word, bit it off like I wanted to do to Domenico’s head.

  Seething silence this time.

  I was getting irritated enough that I was about to end the call and refuse to answer again even if he did call back. Threats didn’t work on me. Ever. “You’ve got ten seconds before I hang up this phone, ditch it, and make it so you never find her.”

  “Willow Chase,” he said immediately. Pretty sure it was through gritted teeth.

  My eyes widened at the name. “How the fuck did Winslow Chase’s daughter end up in the hospital without the paparazzi going mad?”

  “Because we used a fake name, you fucking idiot.”

  I brushed that aside. “Why did she run?” I demanded as Baxter looked at me in the rearview mirror. His dark eyebrows raised.

  I nodded at the unspoken question. I had better security in my penthouse than even the Amatuccis could break. There was no place safer for this woman than where I could control access to her.

  “Not your business.”

  “It is my business if you want me to hand her over to someone from a notorious crime family. How the hell do I know you weren’t part of the reason she was in the hospital? One of the reasons she ran? What if you’re working with him?”

  I’m a self-serving bastard. If the jerkoff from the hospital got his hands on her and something happened, not only could that bite me in the ass, but I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror. An asshole I may be...but not everyone deserved the rage I kept buried.

  “Because I was supposed to protect her!”

  I winced at the volume of his voice as I pulled the phone away. My vision went red as I registered his words. “Then no, you can’t have her back. She doesn’t need that kind of security. She’ll be with me until she mends.”

  He laughed, the sound big and full.

  I pulled the phone from my ear, gave it an odd glance. Was Domenico crazy?

  “Good luck with that. My Will doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

  The way he said ‘My Will’ curdled my belly with rage. As soon as I thought it, I pushed it away. This woman was nothing to me. An inconvenience, nothing more. Didn’t mean I was going to throw her out on the street, but I certainly wasn’t going to keep her.

  “Then, once she’s lucid, we’ll have a conversation. If she wants to leave at that point, she can.” Innuendo coated my tone like a parka on a naked body. I heard the unrestrained emotion in his voice. His need to protect her.

  Damn fool, in my opinion. Women were nothing but sentient playthings. But I wasn’t above twisting the knife. He’d left her alone. Something had happened that was bad enough that she’d needed to run away without being healed. And he’d been nowhere to be found.

  His voice was polished steel as he said, “You said threats don’t work on you. Fine. They don’t work on me either. But hear this, Penn. Any harm that comes to her—from a nightmare to a hurt little toe—the payment is tenfold from your flesh. And if that isn’t enough, I’ll take it out of your little sister. Cancer is such a hard life. It would be too bad if she didn’t get her chemo or medication.” I swore I could hear the bastard smile. “Protect Willow like you would Corinna. Better, even. You don’t want me for an enemy.”

  He hung up before I could say anything. The fucking asshole had just threatened my sixteen-year-old cancer-ridden sister. The sheer frigidity of the threat had me admiring him and planning his downfall in the same thought.

  We pulled into the underground garage of my building. I pulled up the security schematics on my phone. Turned off the garage cameras until I got us into the private elevator.

  Willow was still out, her breathing slow and even as I made sure to tip her head to the side. Choking on her own tongue wasn’t really something I was prepared to deal with. The softness of her lower lip called to me.

  But touching women when they were unconscious still wasn’t my kink. I had a lot of them, no lie. But not that one. Besides, my hands were full anyway.

  The doors finally slid open and I stepped through the foyer into the living room. I angled off to the right, to the bedroom where I could put Willow down.

  I slid her onto the bed, made sure to keep her head turned to the side slightly. The clothes she had on bagged and bulged against her frame. The soft skin of her belly peeked from beneath her shirt.

  I wanted to touch that strip of pale flesh. See if it was as silky as it looked.

  I clenched my teeth. Get her situated, dickhead, then get back to work. The night’s not nearly done. You’ve done your good deed for the decade. Accept it. Move on.

  Switching on the bedside lamp, I walked out the door. Back in the living room, I headed towards the kitchen. Opened the fridge, got a bottle of beer. Popping the top, I tipped my head back and gulped it down.

  Shit. What had I gotten myself into? I should call Domenico back, tell him to come pick her up. She was an inconvenience I didn’t need. A responsibility I shouldn’t have. Part of me scoffed. I shouldn’t be in charge of anyone’s health or wellbeing.

  I was good at writing checks and being an asshole. The people who depended on me ended up broken and used.

  The memory of Willow’s pained green eyes swam in front of my mind’s eyes. Something in that pain had called to me. Sunk its claws deep inside the husk of a chest I had and ripped open the crusty shell of my heart.

  I took another swig of beer. I’d just have to make it scab over again. Make sure Willow got dropped off in Amatucci’s hands and be done with her. I’d saved her from the asshole and kept her secret. In my book, that put me one up.

  I finished off my beer and headed down the hallway to my home office. I checked on Willow again, made sure she hadn’t swallowed her tongue. I couldn’t have her dying while in my hands. My responsibility. Whatever.

  Putting my hand down by her nose and mouth, I waited for the slight puff of air.

  And waited.

&nbs
p; Shit. Where was it? Why wasn’t she breathing? I dragged her body flat, turned her up on her side. That’s what’s supposed to happen for unconscious people, right?

  Laying my head against her back, I held my breath as I waited for the sound of her heartbeat. Almost shouted for fucking joy when it came. It was so slow. Practically nonexistent.

  Scrambling for my phone, I hit the redial button.

  “What?”

  “She’s not breathing and her heart rate is slowing,” I told Domenico. “Send your brother. Now.” I hung up again as I pulled her to the floor. I could do CPR.

  Thank shit I kept my certification up. I tipped her head back and pinched her nose. I sealed my mouth over hers, blew a hard breath into her mouth. I kept my gaze on her chest. Prayed it rose.

  As it did, I sent a thank you out to whoever was listening. I gave her another breath. Her chest rose again. I started compressions.

  “Oh, oh, oh, oh, staying alive. Staying alive,” I whispered the words to myself to stay on rhythm.

  My phone buzzed as I hit thirty chest compressions. I tipped my head to look at my watch. PRIVATE NUMBER glared on the small screen.

  As I leaned down to give her another breath, I hit the watch’s face with my hand to open the call. “Speak.” I gave her a breath. Watched her chest.

  “I need the code,” a different male voice said.

  “Name?” I said before I gave her another breath.

  “Amatucci, Rafael.”

  I gave him the code as I shifted back to chest compressions. The line disconnected as the elevator dinged quietly in the background.

  “Hold on for me, Willow. Just a little bit longer. Hold on for me.” I said, singing the BeeGee’s song in my head. Another round of breaths. Another round of compressions.

  “Where are you?” Rafael called after a couple minutes.

  “Hallway on the right, first door on the left,” I shouted as I got her ready for another round of rescue breaths.

  His running feet sounded down the hall. “How long have you been doing CPR?” he asked as he got his gigantic bag situated. He grabbed her wrist, watched his watch as he listened.