by Celia Aaron
“I had Peter try and find you once he got out of the hospital, but you and your old man were gone without a trace.” He shook his head. “Not that it would have mattered. I didn’t want you to see me in prison-orange with shackles. I just wanted you to know I couldn’t come back, couldn’t do the things I wanted to do with you. Couldn’t…” He swallowed thickly again. “See the world with you.”
My eyes watered as I thought about him in a cell. All he’d done was what any brother would have done.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped at the wetness on my cheeks.
“Just the breaks,” he said gruffly.
“I’m sorry I thought you’d abandoned me. When Blanco took me—”
“Took you?” He pulled off at the exit for Gladwyne.
“Yeah.” I leaned my forehead against the back of the headrest. “My father sold me to him. Blanco was the man in the black car, the one who’d been watching me.”
“He was there that night?”
I clenched my eyes shut and remembered my father’s wheezy words, the way he handed me over for his thirty pieces of silver. “Yes. In my apartment, waiting for me. I almost got away. Tried to run for it. But Jorge caught me. I’ve been in Blanco’s possession ever since.”
“That’s why you never contacted me.” His voice grew even more grim.
“I couldn’t contact anyone. They kept me locked in the…” I didn’t want to talk about the basement, about the things they did to me down there to make me compliant. “Locked up,” I adjusted. “There was nowhere for me to go, no one who would help me.”
“He hurt you?” The ice in his tone could have frozen a summer day.
“I don’t want to talk about that. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now.”
“It matters to me.”
I pressed my forehead harder into the headrest. “He broke me. It took a long time, but I eventually broke.” My own screams echoed back to me from the past. The way I’d begged. The way I tried for mercy but received none. “Breaking was the only way to make it all stop. And once I let go, he let me float through my life, not really plugged in. It’s what he wanted, a little ghost he could present to his guests and eventually sell off in marriage.”
“I saw how he makes you dress.” His words barely escaped the cage of his teeth. “The way he wanted you to call him Daddy.”
Shame rose in my cheeks, the color burning its way through my skin. “He never touched me …” I bit my lip. “Not like that. He hurt me if I got out of line, if I didn’t dress the way he wanted, if I tried to show any backbone at all.”
He didn’t respond, but everything in him went taut, as if he could feel my memories of torment right along with me.
I shook off the lingering chill from Blanco’s basement and met David’s eyes in the mirror. “I would have come to see you in jail, in prison, wherever you were—I would have come.” I dropped my gaze. “If I could have.”
“I know.” He let go of the wheel with his right hand and covered mine. His warm palm cocooned mine, his touch exactly what I needed to ease the tension in me, the fear. I began to suspect he was what I’d needed all along, the catalyst that would save me from Blanco’s grasp once and for all.
He pulled into a gated entry in a fancy Gladwyne neighborhood. An armed guard waved him through.
“Whose house is this?”
“Genoa family.”
“You work for them, right?”
He nodded and pulled up in front of a mansion with gleaming windows and stately brick.
Another groan rattled through the car as David gave my hand a squeeze. “You’ll be safe here.” He turned, his eyes hard as flint, and stared past me toward the trunk. “But he won’t.”
17
David
“What the hell happened?” Serge strode from his office, his gray hair wavering in the breeze from his hurried pace. “The wedding already?” He shot a look at Angel, still in her wedding dress, though now it had splatters of blood along the bottom.
“Went to a fitting. Trouble showed up. Had to be at least half a dozen shooters.”
Serge ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.” Calling behind him, he shouted, “Opal!” Turning back around, he asked, “Any of ours or Hector’s hurt?”
“No.” I didn’t mention that I left Jorge high and dry. That would be a conversation for a little later, once I was sure Angel was taken care of.
She clung to my arm, her small hands like butterfly’s wings resting on a lion. “How did they know I’d be there?”
Serge adopted a fatherly look. “You’re safe here, Angelica. I’ll give your daddy a call and let him know we’ve got you. I’m sure he’ll be right over.”
Her shiver telegraphed through my whole body. I wanted to murder her “daddy,” and in that moment, I knew it was going to happen. Any man who treated Angel badly would suffer the wrath of my hands, my blade, and any other violence I saw fit to inflict upon them.
A woman in a maid’s uniform rushed from the back hallway. “Sir?”
“Opal, good. Take Ms. Blanco to a room upstairs and get her comfortable.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried closer, her eyes on Angel. “Oh, sweet girl.”
I leaned over, my lips almost touching the top of Angel’s head. “You can trust the people here. They won’t hurt you.”
She turned to look at me, her face too close to mine, especially with Serge for an audience, but she didn’t seem to care. “Can’t I stay with you?”
I straightened. “I have business.”
“Business?” Vince walked up behind Serge, his eyes wide as he surveyed the beauty in the bloodied wedding dress at my side.
I didn’t want his eyes on her. Too many men had been given a free pass to gawk at her for too fucking long. I stepped even closer to her, blocking his view. “I got one of the bastards. He’s bleeding out in my trunk. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to take him downstairs.”
Serge’s eyebrows went up in an ‘ah ha’ gesture, and he nodded. “Please do.”
Angel still hadn’t released my arm.
I covered her hands with my mitt and lowered my voice, even though I could feel Serge and Vince watching every move I made, parsing every word. “I have to go do some bad things to a bad man. You can’t come with me. Go upstairs and let Opal take care of you. I’ll be back soon.”
“You promise you’ll come back for me?” God, when she looked at me like that—like I was her world, her savior, the only man who could ever meet her expectations—something inside me cracked. I wanted to kiss her, to reassure her, and, on a baser level, to rip that dress off her and show her how much I’d dreamed about her during those five long years in prison.
“I’ll always come for you.”
She blinked as if accepting my promise and locking it inside. “Okay. I’ll wait.” Letting go of my arm, she slipped away and toward Opal.
“Come, I’ll draw you a nice bath.” She wrapped her arm around Angel’s waist and led her upstairs.
When they were out of sight, I turned back to Serge. “Are all of Rudy’s things still down there?”
Serge smiled with a hard edge. “All arranged just the way he likes. Others have used the space, but I didn’t permit them to change his tools around. I guess I was hoping he’d come back some day. But now I have you.”
“I’m ready to get to work.”
“David.” Vince called my name softly, as if afraid he’d spook me, or perhaps he didn’t want to spook himself.
I met his gaze.
“She seems attached.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “To you. I just want everyone clear on the endgame here. She marries Lorenzo.”
“I got it.” My mouth said the words, but my heart said something entirely different. Angel was mine. Had been mine on that night beneath the tree, and nothing had changed that fact. Nothing could.
“Good.” Vince cleared his throat. “Just don’t want any further complications, you know? We have enough to deal with
as it is.”
“She’s in shock. That’s all.” I lied as easily as I killed, it seemed.
“Let the man work, Vince.” Serge motioned toward the guard at the door. “Bring David’s package downstairs and strap him in. The Butcher is ready to work his magic.”
The guard scurried out the door, and Serge turned. “Come on. Let me show you to your office.”
I followed, my blood already calling for punishment and vengeance on the man who thought he could hurt my Angel. He would suffer. And I would rejoice.
The screams finally died away. He’d lasted longer than I’d dared hope. The gut shot slowed him down, made his answers come out slowly, like the blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth. But each time I removed a fingernail, he seemed to wake up, to scream for help, for his friends, for his mother—for anyone who could come to his rescue. The earthen walls of the dark basement didn’t offer up any assistance. And each time I cut into his flesh and muscle and sinews, he seemed more interested in speaking to me, not to his imaginary saviors who would never hear his voice again. So I continued to work, destroying his physical body as I cut my way to his soul.
Hours passed. Alice in Chains and Nine Inch Nails played softly in the background—never loud enough to overcome the yells and cries for freedom. Body parts littered the stark metal table. He was not a man any longer. When the floor ran red with his blood and he had nothing left to give me, I granted him the swift mercy of death.
Rubbing my hands clean on a crimson-tinged towel, I stepped out of the room and headed upstairs. Night had fallen, the manicured grounds draped in shadows.
Vince blanched when I walked into Serge’s office.
“Damn.” Serge was on his phone. “I’ll call you later.” He hung up without a goodbye and gave me a hard once over. “Rudy was right about you.”
“He wasn’t Irish. Just a hired gun from Boston. He’s even done a little work here and there for you.”
“No shit?” Serge whistled. “Who hired him?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Of course he said he didn’t.” Vince crossed his arms over his chest.
I leveled him with a glare. “If he’d known, he would have told me. By the end, he’d let me fist his sister and strangle his mother right in front of him if it meant he’d leave that chair alive.”
Vince wilted, his arms dropping to his sides.
“Jesus.” Serge grinned. “You’re the real fucking deal.”
My blood seemed to riot in my veins, pushing and pulling under the pressure of what I’d done. The kill hadn’t been a release. Instead, it only keyed me up more. I was the monster now. The man shedded like an outer skin to reveal only bones and darkness beneath.
“He was paid to take out Angel. Had a crew of five other guys. Knew them only by their street names. But they’re contractors just like him. Could be one of them knows who’s paying or they’re all going in blind. Either way, they’ll be back for her.”
“What makes you say that?” Vince spoke, but his tone had eased.
“Anyone putting out the cash and effort on this scale wouldn’t just let it go after a failed attempt.”
“You still think it’s the Irish?” Vince turned to Serge.
“Of course it’s those bastards,” Serge snarled. “Too chickenshit to send their own men, paying outsiders to do their dirty work. Fucking pathetic.” He returned his gaze to me, his calm façade sliding back into place. “Good work down there. I’ll send the boys to handle disposal. You go upstairs and clean up.”
“One more thing. They have someone on the inside of Blanco’s organization. No way the contractors would have found out about the wedding dress fitting otherwise.”
“Makes sense.” Vince scrubbed his jaw. “Blanco needs to do some house-cleaning.”
I nodded and left, my blood pounding even harder, the need to unleash like a shot of pure coke in my veins.
“You okay?” Peter surveyed me as I entered the foyer.
“Need to wash up.” I strode past him and took the stairs two at a time.
“I just wanted to make sure that everything was … Okay, good talk,” he called behind me.
The maid, Opal I think was her name, was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. “Second door on the right. Bedroom with a bathroom for you to—” She made an effort not to look at the blood splatters all over my skin and clothes. “Get cleaned up. Just place your garments on the chair near the door and I’ll launder them and have them ready for you in about an hour.”
I nodded my thanks and strode past. I didn’t trust myself to speak to her, not when everything inside me felt like the black funnel of a tornado. Would I say “thanks” or would I snap her neck? I didn’t know. That should have scared the shit out of me, but it didn’t. This was who I’d become, who I had to be.
I entered the bedroom and stripped off, then stalked to the shower. Once I got the knobs figured out, I stood under the spray and watched my sins wash off and disappear into the drain. What would Angel think if she saw me like this? Would she run? She should. A creature like me—one with zero remorse—should never be allowed around an angel like her. Soft and sweet, her heart tender and her body made for a man to sink into and worship, she was still warm despite this world’s efforts to break her.
My cock roared to life as my thoughts turned wholly toward the woman who’d fascinated me for so many years. The way she’d looked in that wedding dress, the touch of her hands, the trust in her eyes—fuck. I reached down and grabbed my cock, fisting the length as I closed my eyes and thought only of her. I wanted her beneath me, her body open, her pussy wet. Thrusting inside her would be the closest to heaven I would ever get. I smoothed my hand up and down my cock, my eyes closed so that I only saw her dark eyes urging me to fuck her harder, faster.
“David?”
My hand stilled.
“David, is that you?”
It was her, calling out to me from the bedroom.
I flipped off the water. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her voice came closer—a fawn edging too near the mountain lion.
I grabbed a white towel and wrapped it around my waist. No use. Her voice had made me harder than I’d ever been in my life. I let it drop.
“You should leave now.” My voice was low, animal, but it gave fair warning. If I walked out of the bathroom door and saw her, I knew my control would snap.
“I don’t want to. Can we please—” She gasped as I stalked from the bathroom, her gaze tracing my nude form.
18
Angel
David gripped my ass and pulled me up his wet body until we were eye to eye. “I told you to leave.”
I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t even fathom the raging heat that shot through me at the touch of his hands, the sight of him nude, the gritty need in his voice. “I-I …” Nothing. No other words made it out of my mouth.
He squeezed my ass, his big hands cupping me as he stared into my eyes. “Should have left.” His mouth crashed against mine, rough and wild.
I gripped his shoulders, my fingers sliding against his wet skin. He didn’t give me any reprieve, his lips forcing me into surrender, his tongue ravaging mine as he devoured me. I opened for him, letting him taste and take as I held on, giving back what I could. No one had ever touched me like this. He pressed me against his erection, the thick flesh hard and hot. I moaned. He swallowed it, then slid me up and down against him, his cock sending tingles rushing through my clit.
When he pulled back for air, he kept moving me against him, my hard nipples rubbing along his chest, the only thing between us the fabric of the t-shirt Opal had given me.
“You have to go.” With what seemed like a huge effort, he set me away from him and backed up. “I don’t want to hurt you, Angel. But I will if you stay here with me.”
The anguish in his voice, the torn look in his eyes—I would never leave him like this.
&
nbsp; “I’m not scared of you.” I advanced, my body shivering with adrenaline and the dizzying pulse between my thighs.
“That’s a mistake.” His chest was heaving, his gaze swallowing me as I moved closer.
“You are the only thing in my life that hasn’t been a mistake.” With shaking hands, I gripped the bottom of my damp t-shirt and pulled it over my head.
He groaned and came for me, his hands at my waist and his mouth on mine. Still rough, but with a tenderness underneath that curled my toes, his kiss enveloped me.
I stood on my tiptoes, inviting more of his onslaught. He tangled one hand in my hair and pulled, then fastened his lips to my throat. Chills shot along my spine when he dragged his teeth across my skin then bit down.
The room was boiling, everything heated to the temperature of the sun as he eased one hand up my stomach and gently cupped one of my breasts. When he ran his thumb over the stiff tip, my knees went weak, and I clung to him.
This should have happened years ago. In another life, maybe it did. But in this one, we had a lot of lost time to make up for.
Lifting me, he pressed me on the bed and climbed on top of me. With an intensity that scorched, he stared down at my body, at the curve of my breasts and then lower.
“I need to see all of you.” He gripped my pajama bottoms and panties, then pulled them down slowly, his gaze following each inch of revealed skin.
I could barely catch my breath, and all my thoughts ran together like melted crayons. How could he do this to me with nothing more than a look?
When he stripped my clothes all the way off, he splayed one hand on my stomach. His wide palm covered the expanse of my skin.
“David?”
He slid his palm lower and spread his fingers down each side of my pussy.
“David!” I gripped the comforter.
“I never imagined this. All the times I thought about you, about how beautiful you were, I never could have imagined this.” His voice was low, a gravelly whisper.