Shaking his head, Axe rolled his eyes and strode ahead of me across the room. I couldn’t help but watch him walk – he was so sexy, so assured, and like a billion percent masculine. Yearning roiled in my stomach as he looked back at me and winked. “Yeah, not tellin’.”
“Why not?” I asked, slightly stung.
But he ignored me, talking to the guy who’d appeared behind the counter. Said guy gave me an appreciative look and I immediately saw Axe tense out of the corner of my eye, his lip curling. The guy hastily looked away and started discussing discounts for women.
My hero. I couldn’t help but smile as I followed the two of them through the range, Axe and the guy deep in a discussion that left me totally at sea. We ended up by a wall of guns and I gazed in astonishment. There were so many, from slim, tiny pistols to big, bulky rifles.
Eyes flicking back to Axe, I studied him towering over us, arms folded, and face serious.
I want you so bad, I can hardly think straight or even walk straight.
Once more, I heard Axe’s voice, gritty and full of raw need, and my heart pulsed sharply in my chest.
Even though I was still reeling from last night and breakfast and just the last two days – lost in a tangled knot of my own feelings – it was apparent I had been wrong, yet again, about Axe.
I want it to be because you want me…
But, even more than wanting me, he cared about me.
Not because I helped you… Not because I was nice to you, or held you through your bad dreams… But because you want me so bad, you ache with it…
Like I do.
I took a deep breath, still watching him.
The way he’d listened to my story – listened so intensely, I could almost taste it. He’d switched the radio off after my first few stammered sentences, his entire body taut as a steel wire.
How he’d struggled to find words, holding me while I cried about Charlie, the kidnapping, the foster system, and my fucked-up past.
Altogether, it was more than enough proof, even for that galling, disillusioned cynic in me.
Now here we were, at a gun range, as Axe found yet another way to prove me wrong about him. No one had ever taken me seriously when I’d talked about self-defense before. Something warm pooled into my stomach, then turned blistering hot as Axe looked over at me and smiled.
“Here, dolcezza.” He picked up a gun. “See how this feels.”
Gingerly, I reached out and took the small, black pistol. I stared at it in surprise – it was light and fit perfectly in my small hand.
“Now that’s a reliable, shootable little beast,” the gun guy explained, avoiding looking at me. I almost laughed. “Glock nineteen, nine millimeter – can’t beat it. Especially for a woman with a petite grip.”
“We’ll take this one and that Camper.”
The man nodded. “So, how long you’ve been shooting for, sir?”
“Oh, since I was about eight or so. I’m a hell of a shot. Never miss.” Axe had a wolfish smile on his face and the guy blinked and nodded, then hastily gestured for us to follow him.
He hurried us down a hall, through a thick door, and set Axe and me up at the end of a large, empty room. A target in the outline of a person was halfway across it.
Ick.
The gun guy explained something about the targets to Axe in a rapid voice, then said, “It’s pretty dead now, so if you need anything, please let me know.” And, with that, he vanished.
He wasn’t kidding, it was just me and Axe again, as no one else was there.
I held the gun in one hand away from my body, wiping my other palm on my leggings, and Axe looked around, nodding.
“This is a pretty state of the art place, but it’s Western Mass, so no shock there, right? At least we don’t have to wear those big old headphones. I hate ‘em. Guess the Big Guy is watching out for us, huh?”
Axe began to explain how the gun worked, the safety that prevented it discharging accidentally and blowing off my foot, how to grip, how the trigger worked – he even started getting into cleaning it when I interrupted.
“So, you really never miss? Or did you want to scare that guy?”
Axe tilted his head at me, took the gun in one hand, and pointed it at the target. Then, without even glancing over, squeezed the trigger. It banged loudly and I gasped, half-crouching.
Gaping at him, I whipped my head around and looked at the target.
He’d hit it, dead center.
“Both,” he said with a grim smile.
“Wow,” I squeaked out.
“Now this is how you should actually stand.” He held both arms out in front of him, the gun absurdly tiny in his large hands. He described recoil and how hard to squeeze, then handed it back to me. “Go ahead, girl, shoot.”
“Ugh,” I whimpered as I mimicked his stance. “I don’t know…”
“Shoot. Now.” He folded his arms and scowled at me. “We don’t have all day.”
Taking a deep breath, I squeezed the gun and took a shot. The gun jerked in my hand and I gasped.
“Yeah, your eyes should be open if you don’t want to off an old lady, there, kid.”
I opened my eyes and offered him a guilty smile. Looking out at the range, I raked my eyes over the target. “I didn’t hit it?”
“You weren’t even looking at it.”
I snorted and tried again, forcing myself to keep my eyes open. Nope, no dice that time.
Or the next time.
Or any of the times after that.
We’d gone through maybe five rounds of ammunition and I wanted to quit already. But Axe kept encouraging me, clarifying and showing me things, and patiently correcting my mistakes. It sort of made me want him even more. I tried to tell myself I was probably distracted by all his delectable muscles and handsome face, but I knew it was really because I absolutely sucked. Which was exactly what I was afraid of.
I wanted to scream in frustration, but I hung in there.
Finally, he blew out his cheeks after he loaded up another round of ammo. “Here, let me try something.” He handed me the gun, then came around behind me, his body warm at my back.
I caught my breath.
Oh, like that wasn’t distracting. Again, I felt that urgent tension building up between us. While Axe made me feel safe in the circle of his arms, it was also like I was racing headlong across a tightrope, a hundred feet in the air, and no net.
The rope was stable, sure, but that didn’t help with the anticipation. Or the longing. I just wanted to dive right off it, right into him, to hell with anything else.
“I think you’d be a damn good shot if you’d just relax,” he murmured into my ear, sending tingles up my spine. “Size doesn’t have anything to do with shooting a pistol. My sister Trina’s the one who taught me that trick to shoot without looking. Colt’s nicknamed after a gun and he’s got nothin’ on her.”
“Trigger-happy Trina,” I tried to joke. All I wanted to do was lean against him, but he was resolutely standing a little ways away.
“You’ve no idea. Alright, I’m gonna hold your arms, help you learn the posture.”
Axe’s hands slid over my forearms, locking me into place. Closing my eyes, I savored this moment. It was exactly what I’d wanted since I’d woken up in his arms.
I could feel his breath moving my hair. Heart pounding, heat flicking up and down my veins – I needed that space gone – I wanted to feel his hard chest and stomach pressing against me.
“You ready?” he said after a long moment. I could sense his body was taut again – but for a much different reason. I opened my eyes.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one distracted.
His gruff voice echoed through my mind, If I didn’t, I wasn’t going to stop until your voice was hoarse from screaming my name.
Oh, I was ready.
I pretended to get my footing and stepped back, pressing my body to his, my back and bottom rubbing up against him.
Breathless, I waited to s
ee how macho-man Axe Capestrana would handle this move.
Axe
Brenna had a goddamn Glock in her hand and she decided at that moment to back up into my crotch.
Good God. I could feel heat stroking up my sides, as my pants got tighter and tighter.
Was she doing this on purpose?
Curious, unable to help myself – I leaned into her, tightening my grip. I heard her breath hitch and my cock twitched in response. Leaning down, I half-groaned, half-hissed in her ear, “Ah, Brenna, you know we can’t—”
She cut me off, the pecorelle cut me off, retorting in a husky voice, “Can’t what? Teach me how to shoot? I thought you could teach a blind mule. Come on, Axe,” she whispered. “Focus.”
Did someone swap Brenna with another Brenna while I was reloading the ammo? A second ago, she was anxious around the gun, leaning away from it as though it was a slimy snake. Hell, she still seemed tense around me.
Or so I’d thought.
Now she was so much more sure of herself than I’d seen before.
Is this what she was like before the Ruffinos got ahold of her?
I wondered if I was seeing the real Brenna – the one who used to find every moment of happiness she could, chilled with homeless guys, and wanted nothing more than to learn how to kick ass.
“Squeeze and try to watch the kickback. Both eyes open on the target. Trust yourself.”
“Okay.” She pressed harder against me and I clamped my teeth together, trying not to groan.
Then she fired…and hit the fucking target.
“Oh my God. Oh my God! Did you see that?” She hopped up and I squeezed her arms.
“Celebrate when the safety is on, okay? Geez, woman.”
From that point on, Brenna’s confidence only grew. I watched as she went from missing all of her shots, to half of her shots, to missing barely any. Her aim was a bit all over the place at first – but as time passed, she was learning her way around the gun faster than I’d ever seen anyone.
In fact, I stepped back during the last two rounds, letting my girl spread her wings. I watched with some pride as she fired her ninth and final round of ammo with a smooth kind of poise. Every shot hit the last target, although they seemed a little low.
When we pressed the button to have the target come in and checked her paper-person, I realized all the shots were centered in one spot.
Right around the balls.
I gawked at it, then at her, wincing instinctively. She was gleeful, ripping down the paper and looking at it in smug triumph. Holding it up, she glanced over at me, grinning.
“What’d ya think?”
I nodded. “Yep, that’ll do it.”
When I told her that was the last round, her face fell a little. But we’d already spent way more time there than I’d meant to. She perked up when I said she could keep the paper and we went and returned the guns.
I made a mental note to get ahold of that particular gun as soon as possible. We hadn’t even tried out the Camper, Brenna was such a natural with a Glock.
It made me wonder if she had a little Sicilian in her.
Or wanted a lot more…
Dante’s recurring bad joke flitted through my mind and I groaned mentally.
The guy at the desk seemed relieved to see us go. Lousy prick, ogling Brenna. He’d wised up quick, though, catching my eye. I had to give him that.
As we walked back to the car, Brenna was almost skipping beside me, as she folded up her paper, her cheeks pink from the chilly fall air and eyes sparkling. Hopefully, she’d never have to use a gun, but apparently knowing how to fire one gave her a peace of mind she hadn’t had before.
I had to work hard to resist telling her I told you so.
When we’d settled in the car, I was about to drive away, when I’d realized I left my phone in the cup holder. I inwardly sighed. I knew I had to check my messages.
The false sense of security that the late fall afternoon, Brenna’s glowing face, and the gun range had given me, all evaporated as I gazed at the blazing screen. There were two texts, both from my father.
We’re here in Pittsfield. If we found you that fast, so can the Ruffinos. Meet at Consiglio’s restaurant at 7 sharp and bring the girl. She won’t be harmed but we need to figure this out, caro.
But it was the second text that made my blood run cold.
I’m not asking this time, Angelino.
Shit.
Chapter Eleven
Brenna
My stomach was in knots. Gone was the warmth and the woozy butterflies from breakfast, gone was the sense of independence and badassery that came with firing a gun.
I was about to meet the head of the Capestrana family and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.
Clutching the silvery folds of my new dress, I felt a flutter of panic as we parked behind a little Italian bistro in the center of town. Two black SUVs already dominated the small lot.
I hated that feeling. That feeling of not being in control. At some point during my captivity, I’d forgotten how validating it was to be able to think for myself and make my own decisions. How crucial it was to that deep, innate sense of existing, of being human.
But now that I’d gotten a taste of it again – now that Axe had saved me from that other life…
I refused to give it up.
I did trust Axe. But that didn’t mean I trusted his family. If I sensed, for even a second, that they planned to send me back to the Ruffinos, I’d scream bloody murder and take my chances that someone in this restaurant would help me.
Axe was silent as he switched off the ignition – he’d been like that since we’d left the dress shop, and it wasn’t exactly making me feel confident about the outcome here.
For a moment, we sat there, both staring out the windshield.
Wearing this angelic, gorgeous gown, I thought I’d at least feel ready for this. But the material made my mind flash back to the flimsy sheet I’d worn on stage at the auction. Fingers twitching, I fought down the desire to tear it to shreds.
Relaxing my hands, I instead remembered Axe’s drawn face lighting up when I’d emerged from the dressing room. For the first time since he’d seen those messages, he smiled. Then he’d said, “You’re too beautiful, you know that?”
For a breathless moment, the butterflies came swarming back, and I looked over to Axe, but he was climbing out of the car, muttering, “Let’s go.”
Once outside, Axe appeared at my side immediately, one hand hovering at the small of my back. We picked our way across the gravel lot and entered through the back door. Pulling me closer, Axe whispered into my ear, “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I shivered, nodding, silently praying to God he had a choice in the matter.
Chatter, clinking silverware, and a bright glow came from the busy room at the end of the hallway we’d entered. My body relaxed a fraction. Plenty of witnesses.
A host materialized in front of us and inclined his head. “Mr. Capestrana?”
I sensed Axe nodding and snuck a peek up at him. A muscle flickered in his jaw and his hold on me tightened. Tremors and dread coursed back through me.
“Right this way, if you please.” The host turned and scurried back towards the front of the restaurant. But then he ducked down a side hall. When we turned the corner, I stopped short, my eyes drawn to the two bulky men guarding the door of a private room.
“Easy, pecorelle,” Axe murmured. “I got you.”
Without thinking, I leaned into him, and tried to whisper, I know, but my throat wasn’t working anymore.
The rumble of male voices and laughter ceased when the door opened and we entered. Our host said something, bowed himself out, and shut the door behind us.
With that click of the doorknob, the room swam, and the desire to flee took hold. Only Axe kept the earth from inverting completely – and me in that room.
I thought he had said it would just be his father, but clearly the Capest
ranas were big on backup. Five men sat around a table heaped with food, and my eyes darted to each of them, trying to figure out who was who.
The man closest was lounging back in his seat, tipping the front legs off the floor – handsome, suave, and full of that Capestrana brand of cocky. As our eyes met, he winked, and I instinctively knew this had to be Colt, Axe’s older brother.
Sitting next to Colt, his fork halfway to his mouth, staring at me, mouth open, was a rotund, friendly looking man wearing a fedora, with curly black hair and a mustache. Then he gave me a wide smile, eyes twinkling, and in spite of myself, I half-smiled back.
I bet you’re Dante.
In the chair next to Dante was a large, sprawling man, with streaks of gray in his dark hair, a fluffy mustache and eyebrows, and a flinty look in his eyes. He wore a lot of gold – a thick watch around his wrist, multiple chains, and rings flashing on his fingers. However, in stark contrast to his bling, he had a pair of bifocals, making him seem a bit like a glittery owl.
Beside him sat an older, salt-and-pepper-haired man. He was all lean, wiry muscle, although his skin was starting to sag off his bones. Meeting my eyes, he scowled deeply and folded his arms. I choked on a nervous laugh – I could see the family resemblance there. Yeah, you’re Uncle Joe.
But when I met the eyes of the man sitting directly across from the door, my entire body went cold. He was big, broad-shouldered, slightly heavy-set, with thick black hair, and his temples just touched with gray. Dark eyes regarded me in a calculated way, and though he was dressed in a modest suit, power rolled off him in waves.
I couldn’t help it – I thought of Emilio. Clearly this was Salvatore. Axe’s father and the head of the Capestrana crime family.
All of this happened in mere seconds, even though it seemed like a year had passed.
No one spoke.
I tried to focus on the table, nerves stretching thinner and thinner. The many, many platters of food smelled wonderful – a hearty combination of garlic, bread, and tomatoes. My stomach rumbled a little.
“Didn’t mention we’d have company, Pop,” Axe finally said, breaking the silence. Instantly the air sharpened, taking on a terrible and ominous stillness.
Axe to Grind Page 10