by Mia Madison
“If I’d known you were gonna be this much trouble,” he says, “I woulda taken care of you the same day I did your dad. Better yet, made you pull a train while he watched and then do you both.”
I don’t answer. “Cat got your tongue?” he taunts. “Maybe I’ll cut it right out of your mouth — once we’re finished with you.”
No need to ask what that means. “We tore that pretty car of yours apart,” he continues. “It ain’t so pretty anymore. Didn’t find what you stole from us.”
I ignore the pain in my heart at the thought of them destroying my Mustang. Buzz leans down, his rancid breath hitting me right in the nostrils. My stomach rebels and I barely manage not to puke on him.
“This can go two ways,” he says. “You tell us where to find the goods, and we’ll finish you fast. Play games with us, and we’ll keep you alive for days, long after you beg us to end you.”
I have no doubt he means it — the second part, that is. He strikes me as exactly that kind of sick, sadistic bastard. “So what’ll it be?” he says.
“We both know you’re not a man of your word,” I say. “No matter what I tell you, you won’t kill me fast.”
He grins, revealing teeth that are badly in need of a dentist. Then he backhands me. My face swells up, blood pooling in my mouth.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m gonna work you over personally.” He pulls out a hunting knife with a serrated edge, turning it so the light glints off the metal. I start thinking about how I can provoke him into killing me before he plans to.
The important thing is that we’re here, far away from Victor and Gina and the whole Adamo clan. With luck, my body won’t be found until there’s no evidence left of how I died. I don’t want Vic to know.
Buzz grabs my t-shirt and slits it up the middle with the knife. The blade is so sharp that the fabric gives way like soft butter. He’s not careful about the upswing, and the tip of the knife catches me under the chin.
Pain sears my nerve endings. “Oops,” Buzz says. I can feel blood pouring out, running down my neck and torso. Maybe I’ll puke on him after all — that should set him off.
Buzz leans close, holding the tip of the knife so it’s almost touching my eyelashes. I jerk back instinctively, but then there’s another Serpent behind me, holding my head still. “Where are the ledgers?”
“I hid them up your ass, mullet man.”
He hits me again, so hard that it knocks me over, the chair going with me. I topple sideways, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact, then the side of my head hitting the cement. The combined effect is bad enough that my brain checks out for a few seconds.
I’m brought back by more pain. Buzz is kneeling by me, gripping one breast tightly in his big sweaty palm. “I’m gonna slice your tit right off,” he sneers. “See what your smart mouth says then.”
I won’t be able to keep from screaming. I know that. All I can do is send a silent prayer out to the universe: Don’t let Victor see me like this. Please.
Buzz brings the knife close … and then chaos erupts.
Gunshots sound as men swarm into the garage, some clad in denim and leather, some all in black. And then, right in front of my one good eye, there’s Victor.
27
I Want My Victor Back
He comes at Buzz like something out of a dream … if the dream were a nightmare of terrible vengeance. Buzz leaps up and swipes at my man with his knife, but Vic sends it flying with one well-placed kick.
MMA fighter, I recall dimly. A few more rapid-fire moves that I can barely follow, and Buzz is on the cement floor. Two huge forms move in on him as Vic turns to me, going down on his knees beside me.
He strips off his t-shirt and holds it against the cut on my chin. Behind him, the two big men haul Buzz to his feet. One of them is Carlo, which I expect; but the part of my brain that’s working is shocked to see that the other one is Rico.
He looks a hell of a lot like an avenging angel himself. There’s death in his eyes, this man who’s everyone’s big brother, and despite myself I get an atavistic little shiver down my spine.
“Can you sit up?” Vic says to me. I try to answer, but have to spit out blood. His face hardens. “Should have killed that sonofabitch.”
“Hurt my shoulder,” I manage to whisper.
“Okay, hon. We got medics on the way.” He glances at the cuffs holding me to the metal chair and yells, “Need a bolt cutter over here!”
The man who responds looks like a Viking biker: tall, with flowing red hair and a goatee to match, and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. He hands the bolt cutters to Victor and goes down on one knee by me, his eyes cataloging my injuries.
The handcuffs fall away and Vic says, “I don’t want to move you until the medics are here. I know it hurts, doll, but try to lie still.” He glances at the Viking and adds, “This is Wolf Calhoun. Wolf, Frankie Zanetti.”
Why do I know that name? Then it comes to me — he leads Firestorm MC. “Hi,” I whisper.
Wolf has the look of a man who laughs a lot, with creases by his eyes and mouth, but right now he looks as lethal as the Adamo men have tonight. “We let you down, darlin’,” he says to me. “Let the Serpents pull one over on us. I swear to you now: they are history.”
I’m afraid to ask what he means by “history.” I guess I’m not really the bloodthirsty type. Life in prison without parole would work for me, not that I would shed any tears if something more … permanent … were to happen to Buzz. But I don’t want anybody putting a black mark on their soul for me.
The sound of a gurney being wheeled in announces the medics’ arrival. Vic stays at my side while they stabilize me for transport. The helicopter only has room for me and the crew, so he tells me he’ll see me there.
I squeeze his hand, and then they load me on the chopper and the drugs take me into the twilight zone.
I’m in the hospital for two days. I have a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, torn tendons, a black eye, some loose teeth, stitches in my chin, and lots of bruises. On the third day, Vic takes me home.
Some of his cousins work in construction and did a rush job on the fire damage, which fortunately was contained to the living room. New floor, new ceiling, the walls cleaned and freshly painted. The newness of it all serves as its own reminder of what happened, but it’s better than having to see what the Serpents wrought.
Nobody would tell me anything when I was in the hospital. Carlo brought Gina and Cait and Erin to see me, and they informed me — when I tried to pump them for information — that they were under strict orders not to talk about anything. “They want to you rest,” Cait said.
“They who?” I demanded. In return, I got gentle looks that told me not to push, because it wouldn’t do any good.
Vic carries me inside when we get to the house. He’s been treating me like I’m a china doll and I’ll break if he touches me with anything but kid gloves. It’s driving me crazy, but my guilt won’t let me yell at him.
He settles me in the brand-new recliner in the corner of the living room. “What can I get you, babe? A blanket, something to eat, a soda?”
“I want you,” I tell him. “Will you hold me, please?”
“All right.” Picking me up again, he sits down with me in his lap, curled against his chest. He hasn’t raised his voice to me once since they found me, hasn’t argued with me about a single thing.
I don’t know who this man is, but I want my Victor back.
28
Until You Do
It’s cool in the house, and even curled against his heat my arms start to get goosebumps. As soon as I rub them, he gets up and leaves me in the chair while he goes to get a blanket from the bedroom, then comes back and gets us arranged again.
Now I’m so cozy I could fall asleep, but I can’t let myself do that. Not yet. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“With what, babe?”
He’s hedging. “With everything. All of it. I’m not fragile, Vic. You don
’t need to shield me.”
A muscle works in his jaw, and I think he’s going to say no. But finally, he starts talking. “The authorities already had the ledgers. When the Serpents grabbed you, it gave them probable cause to execute search warrants on all their homes, plus some other buildings that were owned by the club.
“At the same time, the state’s attorney moved in on your hometown and all the people in those ledgers. Most of them were being paid off; a few were cooperating under duress.
“Long story short, there’s enough evidence for all the Serpents, and most of the people on their payroll, to be behind bars. Some of them may get off on technicalities, but all the leaders are going down.”
Good. It won’t bring my dad back, but it’s something. “How did you find me so fast?” I ask.
“Carlo put a tracking device on your car.”
“Smart.” Of course he thought of that. “What about Wolf? What did he do?”
He raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think he did anything?”
I give him a look. “Because he promised. And I’m pretty sure with Wolf, that means something.”
“I have no direct knowledge of anything Wolf and Firestorm may or may not have done,” Vic says.
“Are you a lawyer now?”
For the first time since everything went wrong, I see a hint of warmth, a glint of humor in his eye. “Nah, that’s my cousin Romero.”
“Of course it is. Is there anything Adamos don’t do?”
His mouth quirks. “Not that I can think of.”
“So,” I prompt. “No direct knowledge, but …”
“I may have heard rumors of certain extra-legal reprisals being carried out, but they’re just rumors.”
“Vic.”
“I honestly don’t know, babe. I figure I’m better off not knowing, in case anyone comes around asking. But you’re right; Wolf’s a man of his word. The Serpents MC is no more, and any attempts to recreate it will be stopped. That much I’m sure of.”
That was the easy part. Now I have to venture onto thin ice. “Can I make you a deal?”
“What?” he says.
“I promise not to feel guilty about them firebombing your house, if you promise not to feel guilty about them kidnapping me.”
Vic opens his mouth, then closes it again. After several long seconds, he shakes his head. “You boxed me right in with that one, sunshine.”
“So it’s a deal?”
He touches my face, gently, on the side Buzz didn’t hit. “You’re gonna have to give me a little time, Francesca.”
I raise my eyebrows. “So I should go on feeling guilty about your house. Got it. Let me know when I can stop.”
The spark of temper in his eyes is a balm to my soul. “It’s not the same thing, Frankie. They hurt you.”
“And you think it wasn’t pure chance no one was home?” I retort. “You think they wouldn’t have shot you, just like they did my father?”
Realization flares in his eyes. “Is that why you ran? To keep me safe?”
“Of course it is. Why do you think?”
“Dammit to hell, Francesca. If you weren’t injured I’d turn you over my knee.”
“Good,” I snap. “I’m going to keep poking at you until you do.”
29
Missed You
That fast, the temper in his eyes melts into warmth. He touches his lips to mine. “You’re a hell of a woman, Frankie Zanetti.”
I put a hand to his cheek. “You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted, Victor Adamo. And I need you.” A shadow crosses his face. “What?”
“I thought …” He shakes his head.
“Tell me.”
“I thought you ran because of what happened that day,” he says quietly. “That you didn’t want us … want me.”
My mouth drops open. “You thought I ran away because I might be pregnant?”
“I had no right, Frankie. Taking away your choice like that.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Vic.” I thump him in the chest with my fist. “You make it sound like you forced yourself on me. I was the one who told you not to stop, or had you forgotten that part?”
His mouth is set in a stubborn line. “Saying it once in the heat of the moment isn’t the same as us deciding.”
“Of course it isn’t, you thick-headed man.”
His eyes narrow. “Careful, Zanetti. You’re not gonna be injured forever.”
“Bring it on.” I poke his chest with my forefinger. “The heat of passion — which both of us experienced, I’ll remind you — doesn’t mean I’m going to run out on you.”
“No,” he says. “You’ll only do that to protect me.”
I manage not to roll my eyes. “Not just you, Vic. Carlo, and Gina, and every person in this town who’s been good to me.” My hand, splayed out across his chest, fists in his shirt. “But mostly you, yeah.” My voice breaks. “Because if I’d lost you, it would have killed me.”
His eyes are hot again, with anger and something more. “And did it never cross your mind to think what it would do to me to lose you?”
I blink back the sudden tears that sting my eyes. “I thought you’d be better off without me.”
“Holy fuck, woman. If you ever say that to me again, you won’t sit down for a month.”
Smiling softly, I cup his face and kiss him. “There’s my man. I missed you, Victor.”
His face softens and he drops gentle kisses on my mouth, my eyelids, my forehead, the tip of my nose, and back to my mouth before he tucks me close. “I missed you too, Francesca. Go to sleep now.”
I obey so promptly that I don’t even feel it when he carries me to our bed.
Epilogue
“Frankie!”
“What?”
“Get in here.”
My eyes narrow. Life with Vic is never boring, but it’s not like him to use that tone. Going down the hallway to the master bedroom, I poke my head in the door. “You bellowed?”
Then I see what he’s holding, and my eyes go wide. “Victor Valentino Adamo!” Rushing over, I try to snatch the bag from his hand, but he holds it out of my reach. “You’re not supposed to be snooping.”
“Francesca,” he says gently, “what the hell?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You wanted it.”
“Babe.” His face is a picture of exasperated tenderness. “I admired it in passing. That doesn’t mean you needed to buy it for me.”
“I wanted to get you something special.”
Vic sets the bag on the bed and tugs me close. “You know you’re my present, right? Every day I wake up with you is a gift.”
“Sweet talker,” I mutter into his chest, trying not to cry. One of his hands skates down to my ass and gives it a squeeze. A shiver runs down my spine, and I press closer.
“I thought we might go sledding later,” he says.
I blink and look up at him. “Sledding?”
“Yeah, conditions are perfect for it.” His mouth twitches at my bemused expression. “Did you never do that as a kid?”
I shake my head. “I think I missed out on a lot of kid stuff. Not that I noticed, or minded. Hanging with Dad was always enough for me.”
“You should try it, at least once,” he murmurs into my hair. “If you don’t like it, we won’t do it again.”
I send him a squinty-eyed look. “Are you sure we’re talking about sledding?”
His smile turns wicked. “You know I can talk you into whatever I want in bed, tesora mia.”
It’s true. I don’t even need much persuading, because Victor excels at turning me on and getting me off. So why resist? Unless it’s part of the game, which is its own kind of fun.
He lowers his head for a kiss, and heat ignites along my nerve endings. It doesn’t matter that we already had playtime this morning. It’s Christmas Eve Day, Revved is closed for the holidays, and Vic and I can never get enough of each other.
Both his hands are on my ass now, pulling me
tight against him, his erection hard against my stomach. I tug at his shirt, and he whips it off before claiming my mouth again, his tongue tracing my lips, licking them apart.
I scrape my nails lightly down his chest, over his nipples, then clamp them between my thumbs and forefingers and squeeze. He hisses into my mouth and deepens the kiss until I’m drunk on him, dizzy with desire.
Lifting his head, he pulls my top up and off as I raise my arms to help him, then backs me up to the bed and onto it. Pinning me with his body, he traces the contours of my aureola through my bra, circling closer and closer to my nipple but not touching it.
“Vic.” My hands are in his hair, my voice pleading. He loves making me beg. One of his thighs is between my leg, pressing against my clit, and my hips arch, rubbing my swollen point against him.
His tongue finally reaches my nipple, laving the tight peak until I moan. When he uses his teeth on me, I gasp, my nails digging into his scalp. Then he switches to my other breast, starting the process all over again.
“Vic, please.” My panties are soaked, my pussy aching. I rake my nails down his back in wordless demand.
“You gonna be good for me?” he asks, his voice pure seduction, deep and dark and decadent.
“You know I will. Whatever you want. Please, baby.”
He finally takes my bra off, only to kiss his way down to my breasts and start on them all over again. “Vic!”
“So impatient, tesora mia.” He kisses his way down my belly, then undoes my jeans and tugs them down and off, knocking off my slippers as he goes. I start to peel my panties off, but he’s back before I can manage it, his strong hands holding my thighs open.
He licks me through my panties and I arch against him, my head tossing on the pillow. “I’m gonna kill you.”
His head lifts. “No Vic, no cock,” he says teasingly. “You said you were gonna be good for me.”