“I want to come with you on Monday.”
“What? Why?”
“Because if those tests come back any differently than you expect, I need to be there for you. You have my support in all things; I meant it when I said I will be your strength when you need me to be.”
I have to turn my face away because his words bring tears to my eyes. It means a lot to hear him say that. I know I should automatically assume he’d be there for me, but let’s be real here. That’s not how life always works. And we haven’t been together for too long either; most men would flip out and take off. Him stepping up before it’s even necessary says a lot about his character, not only with this, but also with him so willingly offering me protection. He’s, no doubt, a very loyal person.
How I ended up with a man as strong as him still has my mind spinning. You won’t see me complaining though. If anything, I’ll happily be sucking his cock all the damn time if he’s always going to treat me like the most important thing in his life. He treats a woman the way she deserves to be treated. Yes, he’s a bit overbearing, but he makes up for it tenfold.
The drive’s anything but relaxing. Dillion’s speeding down the road, driving like we’re being chased, and if it weren’t for the trust the guys show him, I’d be holding on. Cage is riding shotgun complaining the entire time about anything and everything we pass by. Me? I’m sandwiched between a pissed-off gangster who’s busily glowering at the other man next to me who happens to be a flirty Englishman, hell bent on pressing his Boss’ buttons until someone finally explodes. If we get pulled over, I sincerely feel bad for the officer having to deal with this crew. I can only imagine how it must be when his other friend isn’t out traveling.
Maximillian randomly leans forward, completely in my space, to crank up the radio. I can’t help but wonder if he touches me more than necessary. He’s up to something; I’ve been paying attention. The radio’s playing Lil’ Kim’s song How Many Licks? It’s the cherry on top and I start giggling. It’s loud, and tears flow over my cheeks when Cage starts to automatically bop his head to the beat.
She sings about being the night rider and I lose it. It’s fucking hilarious to see these grown-ass men listening to this song. And they all stare at me like I’m the crazy one, too. That’s the best part. No one in a million years would picture this happening right now and it’s freaking awesome. The most entertainment I’ve had all day.
Pulling up to the café, the guys practically leap out like their fearful of my type of crazy. I think I wigged them out a little with my laughing fit. I couldn’t help it. I’ll blame it on sugar and exercise deprivation.
Could also partially be my pms kicking in. If so, they’ll want to stay away from me tomorrow because they won’t be the real threat at that point. Their anger has nothing on a woman at her monthly time with no snacks or Midol in the house. I’m sorta wondering if they have any tranquilizers or whatever with their type of work. If I piss them off too much, there’s a chance I could not wake up until next week.
The shop’s divine scents of coffee and pastries float throughout the air as we make our way inside, causing my stomach to grumble a bit. I think this is the first time I’ve seen the guys all out in public during the day and not clad in full suits. They look so hot and intimidating in them. Right now they could almost pass for regular guys; if regular guys traveled in packs and glared at anyone who looked their way, that is.
“What are you having, Bella?” Thaddaeus tucks me into his side securely as I stare at the case full of scrumptious morsels. I want one of nearly everything. Cinnamon rolls, mini cakes, apple turnovers—it all looks fantastic.
“I’d like a cinnamon roll and that chocolate croissant.” I point through the glass.
“Very good choices,” the older Italian man behind the counter smiles kindly, his face full of wrinkles from living what one would think a happy life. Immediately, I notice that he has the same eyes as Thaddaeus, but his have a bit more of a twinkle in them. I’d bet he’s someone’s grandpa. He has that feel about him.
“Thank you; can I have a tall Frappuccino as well, please?”
“Such a sweet one, Nephew,” he directs beside me and I get drawn in a touch tighter against the solid chest I’m leaning on. It’s affectionate, not territorial. Evidently Thaddaeus is at ease around the older gentleman.
“Indeed, she is. I’ll have a black coffee and a strawberry cream cheese muffin.” I forgot that he loves those muffins. I wonder if I can find a recipe somewhere to bake some he’d like? I know the cook could make some, but I want to do something special for him.
“Two biscuits with the bit of chocolate on them and hot tea with cream, for me.” Max points out some delicious cookie looking things in the case. I should get some of those for later too.
“I’ll take five of the blueberry cream cheese Danishes and a large Cappuccino,” Cage orders, my eyes growing wide, wondering how he’ll fit all of that in his stomach. He was just eating a damn sandwich an hour ago back at the house.
“Hazelnut coffee with two sugars and a scone for me, please,” Dillion tells the older man and pulls out his wallet to pay.
I’ve already been scolded not to argue with Thaddaeus or try to pay for anything in public. That was a hard pill to swallow, but he has an image to uphold and the last thing I want is for anyone to think he’s become weak, especially because of me. The men are the same way. They don’t disagree with him or argue with him about anything in public; they save it for back at the house and one of them is always taking care of the bill wherever they are so Thaddaeus doesn’t have to worry about it. In and out, the guys say is the safest way for their leader.
“I need to bring Kaleigh here,” I mutter as we take a seat around the largest round table in the small shop. “I should get one of those chocolate things to go too.” And one of everything else while I’m at it.
Thaddaeus smirks, leaning over to kiss my head. He finds me amusing, especially when I talk to myself. He acts like he doesn’t do it, but I’d bet money he does once that door to his office closes.
After a few moments, the guy from behind the counter comes over, delivering all our order. The drinks are steaming and the pastries have been warmed to the perfect temperature. The aromas are magnificent to the point I may lick my plate when I’m finished.
“Uncle.” Thaddaeus directs the man to glance at me. “This is my Bella, Grace. I had you make her a batch of muffins before.”
“Ah, yes. I remember. A ciccia; I see why, Nephew.”
“Grace, this is my uncle, Roberto Benito Morelli.”
“Hi, Mr. Morelli, it’s a pleasure.”
“Please, Robbie is fine. And the pleasure is mine, pasticcino.”
Thaddaeus smiles warmly at whatever his uncle just said, so it must be good. I know he’d never allow anyone to be disrespectful toward me—family or not.
“Robbie, then. Thank you for our delicious treats.”
“Enjoy them.” He grins, his hand on Thaddaeus’ shoulder for a second. He seems pleasantly surprised with the warmth his nephew shows me. It’s my understanding Thaddaeus never used to smile at anyone, only when it’s something to do with me. His uncle pats his shoulder affectionately before making his way back behind the counter.
“What did he say in Italian?” I ask as soon as Robbie’s out of earshot.
He chuckles. “He called you little pastry. It was meant as a compliment.”
“Coming from a baker, I definitely agree.” I grin and take a big bite of my delicious croissant. It’s pure heaven—the flaky layers, light and buttery, drizzled with the perfect amount of chocolate. I could live off these things.
Cage busily inhales a few of his Danishes; I find it mildly amusing watching him fit it all in his mouth. His speed and process is amazing. I wonder if the man even tastes anything.
We’re all settled in, happily enjoying our treats when a commotion comes from outside. It happens in what feels like slow motion. One minute we’re sitting around the table, content
with our snacks and smiling. Okay, so I’m the one smiling. The next second, we’re all laid out on the tile floor, the hard surface uncomfortably pressing against my chest while Thaddaeus’ massive body shields mine protectively.
The rat-tat-tat of rapid-fire automatic weapons rings out, ruining everything. Glass is shattered, spraying in all different directions as bullets breeze by, hitting anything and everything. A breath catches in my lungs painfully, as my chest constricts in fear.
The beautiful, quaint shop is a disaster zone. The shelves full of sweet treats, the expresso machines and warm Italian decorations have all been mutilated, ripped through with live ammunition.
Thaddaeus’ sturdy body creates a curtain of safety. His heart beats powerfully in his chest as it all plays out. I hear nothing around me. The world’s gone silent to my ears while it all happens so I concentrate on the movement. The thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart beating against my back, reassuring me that there’s still blood pumping through his body and he’s alive. Tears cascade down my cheeks. It’s hard to stay calm when you don’t know what the fuck’s happening.
Fingertips on my face coax me to open my eyes and lift my head up until I can meet Maximillian’s concerned gaze. He’s nodding at Thaddaeus, agreeing with whatever my human guard is saying. His body’s overly warm, sheltering me in my own little cocoon. His soft lips graze my cheek and abruptly my hearing comes back. I don’t know how it happened, the sudden ‘mute’ to where I couldn’t hear anything. It’s like my mind shut everything off and then suddenly decided to be present again.
Thaddaeus isn’t speaking quietly to Max like I’d believed. He’s shouting, brimming full of fury as he yells at his men, half of his words spill from him in fast Italian. The English pieces I easily understand and he’s completely irate.
“Find them, now! They shoot while my woman is with me? Bring me their goddamn hands and hearts! Now!”
There’s ringing in my ears as he presses another loving kiss to my temple. The guys scurry around, nodding and agreeing with Thaddaeus’ orders. Weapons are drawn, chambers checked and ready as Max takes watch at the front door. Dillion and Cage charge outside, guns out and ready to shoot whoever’s threating the infamous Joker.
Sano E Salvo
- Safe And Sound
“He’s bleeding,” she whispers, and I glance at her making sure I heard her correctly. She’s shaken up with an ashy tone to her skin. I don’t like that she’s upset like this or that she had to witness what just happened. I could skin the assholes alive that’re behind this. I have no patience for careless men around my Bella.
“Who, amore?”
She signals toward the doorway where Max stands guard. My eyes scan over him from top to bottom. He has blood running down the back of his calf. I didn’t get a chance to see if the others were hurt. I was too angry to think of their well-being; I was only concerned for Grace’s. They’re well compensated for their injuries if they get them anyhow.
“Maximillian, did you catch fire?”
His irritated gaze flicks towards his leg, annoyed with what just went down. “Just a bit of glass.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but I’ve been stabbed with glass before. No fun there.
Glass wounds aren’t like knives. With a blade, it takes more force to drive it through flesh. Glass is so sharp when it’s broken, it splits through the skin like butter. Before you realize it, it’s sunken in deeper than you’d anticipated and pulling it free hurts like a motherfucker. Cuts like that almost always have to be stitched up tightly too. If not, they seem to bleed forever.
“How’s it look out there?”
Max checks all around out the now open doorway, the decorative glass missing from the destruction. The floor’s littered with colored shards from the stained glass that was once multiple colors surrounding a coffee cup.
“Whoever stopped over, tucked tail and ran. Bloody bastards, I’d fancy a chance with them.”
So the fuck would I. No way I’d let Grace witness the rage I’d have over them though. She’d be scarred for life because I’d make them pay by removing one finger at a time, pausing on their trigger fingers. Those fools will be taught a lesson; you don’t fuck with the Joker without repercussions. D and Cage will get them though, and they’ll take care of business. And so help me, if I have to hunt down these gutter rat thugs myself, I will.
With a deep breath, I carefully roll off Grace, not wanting to hurt her with my weight. She’ll probably have some bruises with the way we all hit the ground. My lungs hurt as I feel like I’ve already failed her, my heart squeezing with just the thoughts of what could’ve happened to her today. Five days and yet she could’ve been murdered on my watch. I have to be more careful with her; she’s too precious not to be.
I promised to keep her safe, yet I allowed my jealousy toward my crew and her to drive me out. I stopped thinking rationally, needing to get out of the house. I thought I was going to strangle someone myself and now Grace has paid the price. A cut to Max is nothing compared to what I know she’s going to go through dealing with this. She’s not used to this life—to my life.
To me, shooting some dick is yesterday’s news; to her, it’s an entirely new lifestyle. One that I’m afraid she won’t be happy to find herself in. I wanted to keep her away from it, keep her oblivious to our business. But no matter what, someone’s always waiting, just like I told her before.
“Baby, go sit behind the counter until I can check things out with Maximillian and make sure it’s safe.”
Her hands clutch onto my shirt tightly, her eyes full of tears. “No,” she whispers. “Please stay here, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Grace, I need to make sure it’s okay for us to go home. I’ll be fine and I won’t have you getting hurt. Now, do as I say and get behind the counter.” She looks like she wants to argue, so I cut her off. “Let me keep you safe, Bella. Now listen to me.”
Taking a deep breath, she complies, carefully stepping over the debris littering the floor to round the counter. My stare stays trained on her the entire way, but it’s short lived. Her stunned gaze grows wide, her mouth popping open as her hands fly to her chest. She lets out the loudest scream I’ve ever heard and I’m Italian. Loudness is in my blood.
In two seconds, I’m at her side. I’ve never moved so fast before. Glancing to the ground, I see my uncle with two bullets to the chest. He bled out all over the floor behind the counter. It’s a fucking mess; no doubt she’ll remember it all too.
“It’s okay.” I lay my hand on her arm, but she doesn’t stop. I shake her, but she still doesn’t stop the ear-pitching scream. “Stop, Grace, be quiet.” I shake her again and she doesn’t blink. She’s freaking the fuck out and it has something in me wanting to rip the entire store apart to get her to calm.
My hand flies to her face, gripping her chin. I turn her to face me. “I said, shut up, damn it!” I can’t help but yell it. I was fine but seeing her like this has me strung out and on edge. I would light the entire fucking city on fire to get her to stop if that’s what it took. I need her to calm down so I can take control and fix everything.
After shouting at her and pulling her face to mine, she finally blinks and throws my hand away from her chin. I was holding her tight enough to leave fingerprints, but I wasn’t thinking about it. I was only trying to quiet her.
“Don’t ever yell at me like that again! I don’t care how notorious you may be around here. I’ll slap you in front of God and everyone else if you touch me in anger.”
Holy shit! A woman’s never stood up to me like this. They’ve tried, but this one makes me think she’d claw my damn eyes out if I pushed her hard enough. I would never hurt her like that; I would never raise a hand to her—ever. She has my full respect, but I had to get her attention somehow and a little bit of force snapped her out of it.
“Look, I’ll yell if it gets you under control. I will never hurt you; I apologize if I gave you that impression. I care about you more than
you know. Do not cry for my uncle. He was a good man, but now is not the time. It may make me sound cold, but we have to get out of here. I’ll make sure my aunt is taken care of.”
“You can’t compensate someone’s death, Thaddaeus. Maybe it’s that simple to you, but it’s not that way to everyone else.”
“Stop it. You’re angry, I get that. Now’s not the time to have a fucking blowout. You want to fight with me, fine. We’ll do it in the safety of my home; not here, not like this.”
She grows quiet, arms crossed on her chest and angry. She has so much to say right now no doubt with the adrenaline coursing through her from being scared. She’ll have a chance to calm down once we’re home and her mind can process. Until then, this is the last place we need to duke it out. The threat could still be waiting us out, and I’m not going down because she wants to be sorrowful for a man she didn’t even know.
“Joker?” Max interrupts, so I approach, thankful for the momentarily distraction from Grace’s ire.
“What’s up?”
“Still nothing. I think we should get back to the house.”
“Do you have the keys to the Denali?”
“I do. Dillion tossed them at me when they ran out.”
“How will they get home?” Grace speaks up, from the back of the shop. She’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the back wall. She looks frail and exhausted. This sort of thing can do that to anyone though. I know firsthand the toll it takes on the body.
“They have ways and have money if they need it. Don’t worry about them. This is what they do.”
She turns her face, looking at her hands, still upset with me and not fond of my reply.
“Grab the memory stick for the surveillance, I’ll keep watch.” Strolling over to the door, I keep my gun pointed to the ground, ready to fire if someone so as much glances at me wrong. I won’t hesitate, either.
Maximillian hurries to the back. When he comes out, he grabs Grace’s hand leading her to me. We trade places, him on lookout, and I cover her body with mine as much as possible and get to the Denali. It’s still in one piece, thanks to the bulletproof upgrade Dillion had put on.
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