The Priest: Bratva Blood Five: (A Dark Mafia Romance)

by SR Jones

  “Me too.” He smiles.

  Oh, dear God, he better stop smiling like that. I step forward, out of the force field of his heat and energy, and toward the cake.

  “Grab some plates, will you?” I ask him, as I head to the cutlery drawer and take out some forks and a big knife to cut the cake with.

  He does as I ask and sets the plates down next to one another. I grab the cutlery, and we sit side by side as I cut into my cake.

  I serve him a slice first, then myself. Realizing I’m hungry, I take a big bite. He follows suit, loading his fork with sugary goodness and shoveling it in.

  He chews, swallows, then smiles, giving me the side eye. “Not bad, Roze, not bad at all.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  “Happy birthday,” he says, grabbing his glass and holding it.

  I take mine, and we chink.

  “Hopefully,” he says, “you’ll be home in a week or so and able to celebrate properly with your friends.”

  When I was first taken, all I wanted was to be home with my friends, but now I don’t know what I want, or where I want to be.

  “I don’t know if I want to go home.” I shrug and sip at my drink.

  He turns his upper body toward me and fixes me with a serious look. “Where else are you going to go? Your father is organizing protection for you back home.”

  “I don’t want to take anything else from my father ever again,” I state it as firmly as I can because I damn well mean it.

  Priest places his fork on his plate. It’s a slow, deliberate movement. There’s no clatter of metal against crockery, but his face is angry when he looks to me again. “Roze, you won’t be safe. Your father has a lot of money, and he’s going to make sure you get the best protection.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t take his money; don’t you get it? If it’s true that he does such awful things, I can’t take his money.”

  He sighs and gives an impatient shake of his head. “You took his money for all these years, and you knew he wasn’t a choirboy. For your own safety, I don’t think now is the time to become overly concerned about taking money from him.”

  “I didn’t know quite how bad what he did might be. I had no idea he might be involved in trafficking women.”

  “You don’t know he’s doing that. I told you, from the little time I spent with him, he seemed to want that side of things done and finished with.”

  I stand, suddenly needing to move. Every time I think of my father doing that, I panic. “I don’t know he’s not doing it, or that he wasn’t involved at some point.”

  “Ask him,” Priest says.

  “He won’t tell me the truth.” I lean against the counter, my fingers curled against the underside of the hard granite. “I can’t take money from … that. I won’t.”

  He blows out a breath. “Roze, you might die.”

  “Fine.”

  He stands too, pushing his chair back and facing me. “Or worse.”

  “So, you think I should simply keep taking blood money?”

  He shocks me when he simply states, “Yes.” He rakes his hair back from his forehead. “At least until you can set yourself up somewhere safe and make sure you can fend for yourself.”

  It’s what I had decided, wasn’t it? Give myself time to find a job and get some money coming in before I cut off my father, but the more I think about where that money is coming from, the more panicked I feel.

  I want to say, let me stay with you. I won’t. He’d say no. Priest is only doing this because he’s being paid. I can’t pay him, so even if he did agree to stay on, it would still be due to my father’s money. I’m trapped. If only I’d cut ties years ago, but he’s my only family now.

  “Listen to me,” Priest says. “You can’t blame yourself for the position you’re in right now. You have very little choice in the coming weeks and months. In the years ahead, though? You can start over. You can make your life what you want it to be. Hell, you could spend your life working with abused women or people in danger. It’s not the life we’re given that we should judge ourselves on, but what we make of it.”

  His words give me some comfort and an idea. I’m training to be a psychologist, and I wanted to go into criminal psychology, but now maybe there’s another path open to me. One where I focus on victims, not perpetrators. Since being taken, though, when I think about my future, I think about the ocean. Boats. About a different life to one I had envisaged where sailing would be a hobby I fit in once a year. What if it could be more? Life is short. Why not spend it doing something you truly love?

  “Roze, you okay?” Priest reaches out and tips my chin up.

  I gather myself and nod. His fingers are warm against my skin, and I relish the touch, however small.

  “Good, because you need to know—we might have to leave here. Later today, probably tomorrow.”

  “What? Why?” My panic starts again. I feel safe here, with Priest.

  “Intelligence of a possible threat.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He smiles. “You should like this. Italy.”

  “Tuscany?”

  “No, somewhere on the Amalfi Coast. Not sure yet of the exact destination, but we’ll get details soon.”

  “To another house like this?” I frown. Why would we do that?

  “No. We’re going to stay with a man who has a lot of protection.”

  Oh, no. People. People I don’t know. “Will it be safe?” I ask. “Do you know them?”

  “It will be safe.”

  It’s all he says, and I don’t push further. I have no choice in this. Priest is protecting me, and I need to do what he says and trust in him. Sighing, I push from the counter and walk out of the room. At least if we leave, we’re going to Italy.

  It takes me all of five minutes to pack what I have in case of a sudden move because I don’t have anything with me. Once I’m finished, I lie on my bed and try to calm myself. The idea of being around lots of people while feeling this way is utterly terrifying. I’m unmoored. Lost. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore, and I’m scared.

  A bang at my door makes me jump. God, Priest hammers on a door like he’s about to break it down. I go answer it, and he stalks into the room, settling his bulk on the edge of the bed. He gestures for me to sit next to him.

  “Listen, I’m not good at the touchy feely shit, but I know you’re scared, and I promise you one thing. I will keep you safe.”

  “I know you will,” I say simply.

  I do. I can’t tell him I’m not afraid for my safety, but more scared of the idea of having to interact with other people while I feel so … strange.

  I still have the zinging energy, followed by crashes shit going on. I’m not myself. I might need to take another swim and try to burn this damn energy off.

  Priest gives me a long look that I can’t decipher, and then he leaves the room.

  I walk to the window and stare out. It’s beautiful, but the fence mars the view. The dogs are pacing, and I get a whole-body shiver as a strange sense of foreboding ripples through me. It seems even here, with all this protection, I’m not safe.

  God, when will this end?

  Chapter 11

  Roze goes for another swim. She has a lot of pent-up energy. Fear, I guess, and the trauma that she’s been through.

  I avoid her as much as I can for the rest of the day. It’s a shitty birthday for her, but she’s still giving me the hero-worshipping, adoring stares intermingled with eye-fucking, and I need to put a lid on it. For her, for me.

  By evening time, I’m as wound up as she is. The intel from Damen is that those fucks are still on Korcula. My senses tell me they think Roze is here on the island.

  I don’t like it. We’re sitting ducks. I doubt three men will cause me an issue, but there could be more on the way. Who knows? She’s caught up in a veritable mob turf war now.

  I join her in the lounge after we eat separately. She has pasta in a cheese sauce, and I hav
e chicken and vegetables.

  “Want to watch a movie?” she asks.

  I raise one brow as I side-eye her. “Like the one you picked last night?”

  She grins, and I have to look away. She’s so beautiful that I can’t keep looking.

  “No, they have action movies. War movies. Movies with Stallone. I expect that’s your bag, right?”

  “No, I hate fucking war movies.”

  “Really?” She’s keeping her distance tonight, and she twists to look at me. “I’d have thought they’d be your favorite. What do you like?”

  “Thrillers. Spy stuff. Horror.”

  “Okay, I can’t do horror. Not right now. How about a thriller then? Tell you what. Pick one of your favorites, and we can watch that.”

  So, we end up watching Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and she falls asleep toward the end, which I suppose tells me how much she enjoyed it.

  When the credits roll, I pick her up and carry her up the stairs. When we reach the upper landing, she awakens and looks up at me, blinking. Right now, sleepy and vulnerable, I can see how scared she is behind her bratty bravado, and it tugs on my heartstrings.

  I push her door open with my foot and place her gently on the bed. Pulling the covers back, I place her inside them and cover her. I don’t undress her and must fight the fucking weird and overly protective instinct to kiss her forehead.

  Christ, I need to get a grip.

  “Sleep tight,” I mutter, my voice gruff.

  I head to my own room, grab a quick shower, and climb into bed, making sure to put on some boxer briefs and a t-shirt in case she wakes screaming again, and I must go to her.

  For thirty minutes, I toss and turn, only to find myself itching to do something. If I were at home, I’d put on some sweatpants and go for a jog. As it is, I can’t. I read and at some point, my eyes grow heavy enough for me to put the Kindle down.

  So warm. I move, and the heat moves with me. The bright light tells me it’s morning.

  What the hell is that heat? It’s like having a hot water bottle in bed. I don’t own a hot water bottle. Then I remember, I’m not at home. Croatia….I’m in Croatia. I swallow thickly and force my eyes open.

  Curled into me, her ass right against my stomach where I’m bent on my side, is Roze.

  What the fuck?

  Did she wake screaming, and I went to get her? No, I’d remember that shit.

  She sighs in her sleep and moves closer into me. She’s wearing a long t-shirt and nothing on her bottom half. I hope to hell she’s wearing panties because it seems that Roze decided to climb into my bed at some point in the night.

  I’m filled with a mixture of fury and awe.

  She got into my bed, and I didn’t wake up. She curled right up against me, and I slept through it. Not only that, but I haven't had a nightmare. I have them most nights, unless I’m on a boat. I also don’t sleep until the early hours. Not often.

  Taking care not to wake Roze, because frankly I haven’t decided how to deal with her yet, I turn the upper half of my body and look at my phone. Nearly nine in the morning. I blink at the numbers twice.

  She follows my movement away from her by moving into me, shuffling her bottom until it’s flush with me but no longer with my stomach. No, she now has her ass right against my cock.

  Is she awake? Is she playing games?

  I listen to her breathe. It’s even, deep, with a tiny snore on the end of her inhale. I doubt she’d add in a snore if she were faking. Hardly sexy, although it is sweet.

  Sweet. Listen to me.

  I ought to get up and leave her to sleep some more. I don’t want to, though. I don’t want to move at all.

  She shuffles again, and my cock starts to take a distinct interest.

  Okay, now I need to move. Before I can, she turns and bumps her face into my shoulder, awakening with a gasped cry.

  I recognize waking up like that. It’s how you wake up when you have far too much adrenaline in your body.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I say to her. “You’re okay.”

  She looks at me, and her eyes calm down as she takes me in and glances around the room and then back to me.

  “No Red,” she says.

  “No Red,” I confirm.

  “I had a nightmare, and came in here,” she explains. “You were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “You just got into bed with me.”

  “Yes,” she says openly. “I needed comfort.”

  “I’m your protection, Roze, not your comfort blanket.”

  “Maybe … you’re both?”

  “In a few days, you’ll be back to your own life, and you’ll have new protection. You need to start sleeping alone.”

  “What if I can’t sleep?”

  “Deal with it,” I say coldly.

  I want to grab her and hold her close and tell her it will all be okay. I can’t because it won’t. She has a long road ahead of her, and healing starts with her stopping seeing me as the answer to all her troubles.

  “You’re a fucking pig sometimes, Camo,” she seethes.

  I like her flashes of fire. I’m convinced I’m right and that she’d crave direction in the bedroom, but I also know she’d be delightfully bratty with it.

  “And you’re a needy child,” I fire back. I might as well go all in at dousing this simmering attraction between us.

  “Fuck you.”

  I don’t reply. What’s the point? I wanted her angry, right? And this sparring is weirdly turning me on, so my idea of this calming things down will probably truly backfire on me if we end up going at one another.

  She moves away from me, and I sigh in relief, but as she goes to get out of the bed, her t-shirt rides up and I freeze. She isn’t wearing panties.

  She isn’t wearing panties and I can see her pussy, framed by her ass cheeks. She’s shaved, bare, and wet.

  Holy fuck.

  I’m not the only one turned on by our mini fight.

  My body reacts instantly. My mouth waters, my cock hardens painfully, and my pulse kicks up.

  As if I’m an animal and not a rational man, I get an overwhelming urge to knock her over and simply mount her like a beast and fuck her into oblivion.

  She freezes. Goes utterly stock still, and then she reaches behind her and tugs her t-shirt down. “I didn’t… Oh, my God. I hadn’t realized I…”

  She shoots off the bed and glances at me, her face flame red.

  I don’t say anything. I don’t trust myself to speak. A mix of intense rage and lust are vying for supremacy as the blood rushes to my dick.

  In this moment, I’m half unhinged, and I need to lock myself down before I do something neither of us can come back from.

  “When I came in here, I was half asleep,” she starts babbling. “I’d had a nightmare. I didn’t think. I’m mortified. I know you think I play games, but this wasn’t that. I didn’t plan on flashing you. I’m so sorry.”

  Roze means it. There’s no bratty cheek now. Nothing but mortification on her stricken face. It doesn’t matter, though, because I can’t unsee what I just saw, and what I saw was a prime piece of heaven, that—if I’m being honest—I’ve wanted for the last couple of days.

  I school my face and shrug. Voice calm, I offer her a smile. “It’s fine, Roze. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Then because I’m the world’s biggest dick, and because I want to end this thing between us here and now, I add, “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

  Her flush deepens and she nods, swallowing. “I guess. Erm, okay, I’m going to go.”

  She leaves the room and closes the door quietly, and I fall back on the bed, arm over my eyes.

  It’s nothing, I tell myself. So what? You saw her pussy, big deal.

  I’ve seen thousands of them if I include the porn I’ve watched, but it hit me so hard because it’s attached to a woman I’ve had a weird fascination with ever since I saw her photo on her father’s nightstand whilst working with Andri
us and Vasily to bring their organization down.

  I never should’ve taken this job.

  My burner beeps, and I sigh when I pick it up and see the message from Reece I’ve been expecting. It’s encrypted and once I delete it and he does, no one will have access to it.

  They’re still on the island. More have joined them. All things considered, you need to move. I’ve contacted Bianchi, and he’s sending his jet for you. Get her off the island. They’ll never expect you in Italy. You need to be at Dubrovnik Airport at one am at the latest or they’ll miss their flight slot. One of Bianchi’s men will meet you there.

  I type a reply and prepare myself for a long day.

  Chapter 12

  Priest comes to find me, and I’m relieved he doesn’t bring up the incident.

  How I did something so stupendously embarrassing, I have no clue. I flashed the poor guy. Not only that, but he had a bird’s eye view from behind, ass and all.

  I sexually assaulted his eyeballs.

  Fuck my life.

  When I look at him, my worries refocus.

  His face is serious, and he sits heavily beside me.

  “Roze, we have to move out.”

  I sigh. On the plus side, at least if we’re fleeing for our lives, I won’t have the time to be mortified at the whole flashing my inner workings situation. On the downside, needing to move out sounds dangerous.

  “This is the plan,” he says, bringing up something on his phone. “We need to get ourselves to Dubrovnik asap and once there, we’ll make our way to the airport. You must look different, so wear this.” He hands me a baseball cap. “Put your hair up under it, and keep it low.”

  I nod, but hell, he’s the one out of the two of us who is most likely to attract attention. He’s massive and distinctive looking.

  “As far as we’re aware, no one is looking for me. So long as they don’t recognize you, then we’re good. The odds of them knowing where we are right now are low. The plan is that we leave here this evening. I’ll carry the bags and get ourselves to the docks. We take a boat and head to Dubrovnik. Once there, we fly to Italy.” He gives me a reassuring smile.