Captive Thirst: Mafia Romance (Rough Redemption Book 4)

by Olivia Fox

  Lesser gangsters than Santiago embodied fear and pain. Santiago had a taste for other men’s souls.

  Beneath the table, my leg muscles tightened, body ready to run out the back if need be. I held him with my eyes, staring but not seeing, and the blazing return of his gaze made me shut my eyelids in protection.

  Drago saved me. He rose from his place beside me, walked straight at Santiago and much to my surprise shook his hand. He swung a huge arm back towards our booth, indicating that the monolith henchman was welcome to join us.

  They were as civil as two ladies dining over cucumber sandwiches and tea, rather than cracking their hairy fists against each other’s jaw.

  Thankfully, Santiago shook his head “no” and walked back out the front door, giving us privacy. My phone buzzed against my leg. It was from him, Santi, “We need to talk, pequeña.”

  Crap.

  He called me “little one” in Spanish. Only unlike back in the day when for a brief period I had a schoolgirl crush on him, the term of affection left me cold.

  I’d let him know from the get go that I could never go out with one of my father’s employees. But that didn’t keep him from trying. Now I’d have to appease him so he wouldn’t tell my father he’d seen me out on a date with Carlos.

  Santiago wasn’t a man who was easily pleased.

  All I wanted to do was win the race. Now here I was caught between two manly thugs, and I felt like I was losing my damned mind.

  8

  Carlos

  I set my coffee cup down sharply on the table and fought to ignore the burning sensation in my chest. Did she have a boyfriend? My question came out as a snarl, “Who’s the text from?”

  She shoved her phone into her expensive bag, and lied right to my face. “No one.”

  Please, she reminded me of my sister Beatrice who became sneaky and devious as a way of getting around our father’s strict rules for her.

  Boys might be boys, but Drago women were born in a gilded cage, and stayed there until they married men of their own.

  It must be the same for Gabriela who studied her stack of pancakes, whistling while she poured a river of syrup on top.

  “You having a little pancake with your syrup?” She averted her gaze and rubbed the end of her nose, sinking into the bench seat—a mere shadow of her race horse-riding self.

  “Guess I hit a sore spot.” Unable to help myself, I slid myself closer to her and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “I’m going to enjoy watching you shove every single bite of that sugary mess into your mouth, while pretending that you’re savoring my flavor on your tongue.”

  Her pupils were fathomless, and I convinced myself they were filled with desire. “Go ahead,” my voice was edged with something wild and forlorn, “let me watch.”

  She had me in the palm of her hand, and I was not a man who gave up my power to anyone. Gabriela swallowed heavily, taking my dare. No longer lady-like or obedient, she shoveled a huge bite into her mouth and chewed the entire thing, looking like a cheek-stuffed chipmunk.

  For the first time since I could remember, I burst out laughing.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a simple breakfast so much, but being with Gabriela in this funky diner was better than any fine dining experience at Mario’s restaurant or any other I’d had. It wasn’t so much the food, which I had to admit tasted better than I expected, but the way everything seemed to sparkle when I was with her, like dreaming in color.

  “I’m crazy about him you know?” She asked and a splash of red tainted my vision as I gripped the edge of the table until my hands hurt.

  “Who’s he?” I growled.

  “Prancer, silly.” She reached across the table and set her soft hand on top of mine. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me be his jockey.”

  That remained to be seen, but I sure as hell wasn’t going into that now.

  She leaned back and stroked her arm as a surrogate for the object of her desire and said, “Let’s go see him.” Her eyes shone, glossing over, and her face grew flushed.

  I didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

  “Should I be jealous of my owned damned horse?” I asked.

  The minx went to grab the check and I snapped at her, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I was going to pay the bill so we can go see Prancer.” She protested with a little whimper that made my cock leak.

  “When you’re with me, I pay. No exceptions.” Somewhere in the sane corner of my mind, I could hear my sister chastising, “Don’t be such a dick. You’ll never win her over snapping her head off like that.”

  What the fuck was my problem?

  I was the sensible Drago son, the one who paused to consider the ramifications before whipping out my .45 from its holster and spitting death.

  Something about Gabriela made my heart slam at the very sight of her.

  She was a bundle of contradictions: soft, feminine, delicate, and edible.

  And impressive as hell when she drove a beast that weighed ten times as much as she did across a finish line, fighting off the competition with her crop when they crowded her too tight, and throwing her heart into the race.

  I’d never needed to fuck a girl harder in my life.

  Once outside, I grabbed her soft hand in mine, my chest swelled to have her next to me. I pulled her to my car and opened the door for her.

  “I have my own car,” she insisted. “I’ll follow you there.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said, trying to play it cool and hide the fact that I wanted nothing more at that moment than to have her in the passenger seat beside me, dragging her tiny fingers to my raging hard-on and telling her to be a good girl and unzip me.

  I blinked slowly, dragging myself out of the sensual daydream, “I’ll meet you at the stable.”

  The vixen drove as fast as she rode.

  She beat me there and had already parked, standing next to the trunk, and I allowed my eyes the luxury of caressing her with greedy, invisible fingers. She rested a saddle on her slim hip, and her body was tanned and toned from years of riding. What would it feel like to have that body pressed against me under the covers, wriggling closer for warmth?

  Suddenly, fear was writ large on her gorgeous face and her eyes bulged in fright.

  I followed her gaze and ice shivered down my spine.

  Sinaloans. Two of them.

  I recognized them from the last meeting of the local syndicate, two enforcers who stood behind their “Jefe,” or boss, ensuring that nobody fucked with him before, during or after a deal was made.

  The icy terror gripped me harder when she kneed the first soldier who lunged at her and he went down grunting, hitting the dirt and gravel parking lot and sending up a cloud of dust.

  It was all the warning his colleague needed, and he whisked my girl up in bulging, tattooed arms, and carried her towards his car. He sprung the trunk, and Gabriela kicked her legs and twisted her body in a desperate attempt to get free.

  The hate-fueled burst of speed shot me straight at him, his concentration averted thanks to Gabriela’s efforts to get free. She clawed at his back, her short nails digging into his skin and leaving bloody tracks behind. She was fighting for her life and knew that if her father’s sworn enemy managed to stuff her in that trunk, that life wouldn’t be worth shit.

  “Sueltame!” Cold terror gripped me in its icy embrace when she shrieked “Let me go!” in Spanish.

  “Do as she says,” I said, leveling the muzzle of the gun against the back of the bastard’s head.

  “Carlos!” The fear was raw on her face and the thought of any harm coming to her, tore at my insides.

  Bursting this guy’s head open like a watermelon would feel great, but it would set us back years in time. Maybe even start a full-on war.

  “Put her down and nobody gets hurt. We can all walk away from here alive.” The fierceness of my hate blazed like an oven beneath my skin, but I held myself in c
heck. The second man began to stir on ground, “You and your buddy here are going to drive off nice and quiet. Capiche?”

  “You’re a dead man, Drago. Nobody messes with the Sinaloans and gets away with it.” His words were threatening but they lacked conviction.

  “Are you insane? You just tried to kidnap Serrano’s girl and shove her in your trunk.” I took a menacing step towards him, “My best advice to you is get out as fast as you can. He’s going to hunt you down.”

  Gently, he placed Gabriela on the ground, and her hell-hot eyes stared him down, but it was to me she directed her question, “Can I punch him in the face?”

  “No.”

  She reached her hand inside the luggage compartment, which had almost become her imprisonment, and pulled out a tire iron.

  “How about I break his nose just a little? Are you sure I can’t do that?”

  She was fierce as a tiny hummingbird chasing bigger birds away from her flowers, and it was everything I could do to keep from busting out laughing.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” I reached down and hefted the wounded gangster on the ground, tossing him into the back seat of the Sinaloan’s ride.

  “Take off.” I told his companion in arms. “Don’t come back if you know what’s good for you. I’ll sick her on you for real next time.”

  The car sped off, kicking up fine particles from the dirt road, which snaked up into the sky behind them.

  When they’d driven out of sight, Gabriela clutched at her belly and doubled over.

  She closed her eyes and retched her breakfast onto the ground.

  9

  Gabriela

  Chocolate chip pancakes definitely did not taste as good coming up as they did going down.

  This was a mere fraction of the total number of insane thoughts racing through my mind.

  My dad was going to kill me when he heard about this. Even more likely, he’d have those Sinaloan’s heads on a platter.

  I’d hate to be them.

  Most of the bargains struck by my father were sealed in a bloodbath of forsaken souls. Men lost their lives for him on that unslakable quest for power and were happy doing so because so long as he ascended, so did they. My papá earned his authority by force and wouldn’t hesitate to have his hombres pump semiautomatic lead into those who tried to kidnap me.

  He’d make them pay for what they did.

  Drago held my hand firmly in his and sped me toward his vehicle. “We’ll go in my car so I can get you to safety. Yours will be fine here for a bit.” Arguing didn’t cross my mind.

  My breath hitched when I tried to speak, as if someone was tightening a cinch around my middle and I felt slightly dizzy as I climbed into the passenger side.

  The roar of Carlos’ sports car engine filled my ears.

  I twisted my neck to look back at the spot where I’d left my vehicle, and sagged against the passenger door now that I was under the protection of this fierce, Drago male who would keep me safe. Anxiously, I clutched and released the imaginary reigns in my hands, because I may have just slung myself out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  I turned to look at Drago, his hands at ten and two on the wheel like the teacher’s pet in a driver’s ed class.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, cocking my head and raising a single brow at him.

  “You’re safe with me, I promise.”

  I responded to his statement with a skeptical snort and folded my arms over my breasts. “Seriously, Drago. This isn’t funny.”

  “You’re right. Nearly being abducted by the Sinaloans is no laughing matter. They’re not going to stop trying until they succeed.” He wrinkled his brow and tapped his finger on the stick shift before jerkily gearing down around a curve.

  He acted like I didn’t exist while navigating the curvy, two laned road in a way that made even a speed junky like me slam my feet against the imaginary brakes on the passenger side.

  Almost against my will, my eyes slid sideways and took in the full tattooed sleeve covering his bulging arm. Was it only yesterday I was pinned between them, pressed between his body and the wall of his office?

  Shame and hot desire mingled in my throat thinking about how his lips had clamped around my nipple, pulling at me with just the right amount of force to make me want to grab the back of his head, and shove myself further into his mouth.

  I sucked air at the memory and naturally, a correlating pulse began between my legs.

  Drago pulled over to a wide spot on the side of the road, and parked. There was nobody around but cows, and they were more interested in grazing grass than the metal oddity that pulled up beside them.

  “Get this into your thick skull, Gabriela. You’re a precious commodity and your father would pay anything to get you back. That means you’re in a great deal of danger, and I’m not turning you free while that’s still the case.”

  He lowered himself and began to nuzzle my neck, “But you don’t need to be afraid when you’re with me.” He licked tiny trails across my skin, making it nearly impossible to sit still. “And if you do get scared.” He bit down on my skin, not hard enough to hurt me but just enough to let me know that he could. “Look me in the eyes while I hold you, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  When his fingers traced the sensitive surface of my lower lip, it was all I could do to keep from sucking them into my mouth.

  But of course he wasn’t talking about us, nor our non-existent relationship. He referred to keeping me safe from my father’s enemies.

  It was part of the code: assistance to any befriended faction, no questions ask.

  But I wanted it to be about us. I wanted him to hold me tight while I smiled up at him.

  Because the Dragos and the Serranos had entered into something resembling a peaceful pact, Carlos had to protect me. It was part of his obligation as a made man.

  And I wasn’t the least bit afraid of this near stranger, to whom I was bound yesterday by nothing more than a winning horse.

  That was an altogether different type of arrangement than the one that involved his saving me from hoodlums and driving me off to God knows where so they would never find us.

  “I should call the stable while we still have cell phone service, beef up Prancer’s security,” he said.

  “Oh my God! Prancer. What if they go after him too?” I should be ashamed.

  What kind of rider was I, allowing delicious shudders to shoot through me over every single thought about the man behind the wheel? I practically leaked on his leather seat.

  Take care of your horse before everything else. I’d forgotten that golden rule somehow.

  “They don’t stand a chance against my men, don’t worry. He’ll be just as safe as you are.” The dragging pull of his voice teased my folds, coating my panties in wetness.

  The weird thing was, the farther we got from town, and the more he kept talking about protecting me, the more I wanted him to do something dark, dangerous and dirty to me.

  While listening to him give orders to whomever was on the other end of the phone, I fantasized about what he would taste like. How would it feel to have his thick, Drago dick in my mouth.

  I imagined gripping the base of his cock and lowering my head, lapping at his swollen head with my tongue.

  And I wanted him to make me take all of it.

  10

  Carlos

  The wrap around deck and sheer size of the building were the only hints at the splendor to be found on the other side of our hideout.

  The approach to the huge ranch estate was deceiving, a simple winding gravel road through rolling green hills, that lead to the front of the home.

  Taking her small hand in mine, I pulled Gabriela around the towering structure to the immense, wooden deck out front, and wished I knew if the fluttering pulse in her palm was due to the view, or the fact that I held her hand in mine. “Make yourself comfortable here, it’s the best time for catching the sunset and I don’t want you to miss it.”

  Sh
e blinked rapidly and stared at frothing blue waters, and pink sky in front of her. “Look at that!”

  “Pretty special.” I said and my temperature rose while taking her in. Why was it that the sight of her petulant pout made me want to wipe it right off her face, with a joke, my lips or my cock? “How about a glass of bubbly to celebrate the fact that my best jockey is still alive?”

  She leaned back on the chaise lounge, pulling her feet up and stretching them out in front of her. “Careful there, Drago. You keep talking dirty to me like that and you might get lucky.” Her cheeks flushed, giving away the fact that she wasn’t accustomed to flirting like this, but wanted to try anyway.

  She was clever as a fox and twice as pretty.

  “If you think a glass of bubbly sounds hot, wait til you try my home-made chocolate chip cookies. I always keep some in the freezer.” I raised a palm at her “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “Yes, Sir!” She gave me a sassy salute and my cock ached at the obedient response from the little rebel with the glossy mane of hair and petite build.

  I’d have to be careful not to hurt her when I gave her my dick.

  The kitchen had a marble island at its center which dwarfed the size of most one-bedroom apartments. My sister referred to it as a “continent”. There was a reach-in refrigerator and from it I grabbed the chilled bottle of Italian sparkling wine, and balanced it out with some cheese, crackers, grapes, and assortment of cured meats.

  She needed to be well fed for the plans I had in mind for her. This get away trip was the perfect opportunity for me to get her out of my system.

  I hadn’t been able to think of anything else since scenting her out in my office, and there was only one way to solve the bulging problem resulting from that encounter. I was going to get my fill of her flavor and all the feminine places that were hidden in the private places on her body. Then I’d be able to let her go.