Voices begin to carry, and I squeeze my eyes shut, putting my forehead on my knees, trying to make out what they’re saying.
“You thought we wouldn’t find you? That you could fucking run?”
Holy shit.
I can’t make out who it is, the voices are too faded. But the anger in the voice, the unsaid promise of death—that’s something all too familiar.
My head shakes from where my face is buried into my knees.
“You’ll never get away. I’m always two steps behind,” the deep voice rumbles.
My head pops up, eyes growing wide. Two steps behind… My father always says he’s two steps behind.
Footsteps sound closer, making their way toward my door. Is he here? Is he taunting me from the hall?
No. It’s not him. It can’t be. I need to focus. I can’t panic.
But my breath starts to feel shallow and erratic. Cold sweat beads along my forehead, and I grit my teeth together, willing the feelings away.
“No, no, no,” I whisper to myself as my memories come flooding back.
“You stupid bitch. You can run. You think we won’t find you? A fine piece like you. We own you until I say otherwise. Or until you’re dead. Get used to it.”
My eyes spring open, ready for the fight. It may not be them, but I’m not taking any chances. They’ll kill me this time or ruin me until I wish I were dead.
I won’t go back. Not again. Not ever.
I release a breath in a whoosh as my free hand reaches to the top of the desk, helping to pull me to standing, with my finger ready on the trigger of my Glock.
I look down at my phone to see it’s still coming to life.
“Come on. Come on,” I urge the phone silently.
The screen finally comes to life, but before I can punch in 9-1-1, the door swings open and bounces off the wall.
The phone falls from my hand as I jump in surprise and swing the gun out in front of me into the darkness.
I don’t hesitate. I know better. I won’t go back.
So, I fire.
MOTHERFUCKER. I’VE BEEN SHOT.
A scorching pain sears my shoulder, and my hand hits the wall, unintentionally turning on the light as I duck down.
Everything happens in slow motion. Vincenzo yells from down the hall, and I feel myself answer, but I can’t hear it.
I don’t even know what the fuck I’m saying because my arm feels like it’s on fire.
I shake my head as my mind tries to speed back up, but it’s like I have a lag. My left hand reaches across my chest to my shoulder, but all I feel is wetness.
“Fuck,” I grit out, seeing the streaks of crimson seeping through the arm of my white tuxedo shirt.
A noise in front of me calls my attention.
“You. You’re a fucking dead man,” I shout as my head jerks, my vision blurred by the quick movement.
I feel someone pulling at my body, tugging me to stand up. I’m gonna kill whoever the fuck did this.
I launch my hand out and grab at the soft flesh in front of me, squeezing so hard a rageful grunt pulls from my throat.
I’m going to kill this motherfucker. Squeeze the life right out of him.
My eyes become clearer, fixing on the asshole I have a hold of by the throat.
But all I see is Sarah.
Her crystal-blue eyes are wide, filled with shock and shiny from her tears. Her pupils dilate as she’s denied breath as my wrathful grip increases.
What the fuck? Someone shot me… Why is Sarah here?
Rage courses through my body as she slaps at my grip, sputtering coming from her lips, when suddenly understanding smacks me in the face.
Sarah shot me.
My eyes narrow on her angrily, my words becoming a growl. “Put the fucking gun down.”
I loosen my hold enough for her to wheeze in a grateful breath.
“Dante. Fuck.” She coughs, still holding the gun in her hand, waving it at her side.
I tighten my grip again, glaring at her, and she nods against my hand, dropping the gun to the floor.
I release her instantly, and as she takes a heavy step backward, I kick the gun toward the door.
“Jesus.” She breathes heavily, taking in more of the air I was denying her. “What the hell are you doing here? Why the fuck wouldn’t you announce yourself? I could’ve fucking killed you! You’re such an asshole,” she yells, her voice coarse and raspy as she rubs her neck.
I’m an asshole? “Why the fuck do you have a gun?” I roar.
She isn’t the kind of girl who carries a gun let alone knows how to use it.
“What the fuck is going on?” I yell again.
Her hand stays on her neck as she shakes her head at me. “Obviously I didn’t know it was you, Dante. Jesus, what are you doing here?”
My eyes dart to the handprint on her throat already blooming red and purple on her alabaster skin.
I could’ve killed her. I was killing her.
I instinctively reach out, but she flinches away from me.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise, but the skepticism on her face is ironic. “You don’t look at me like that. You fucking shot me.”
I jerk my head, motioning for her to step closer to me, and take her chin between my fingers as she does. I tilt her head to look at her neck closer, letting out an irritated breath.
Sarah’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “How are you mad? Did you hear me? I could’ve killed you, Dante.”
I twist her head the other way to look at the marks, scowling as I do.
“You aren’t that good of a shot.” I painfully smirk, inspecting my shoulder and letting her chin go. “You grazed me. It’ll hurt like hell, but I’ll be fine.”
Footsteps come closer from the hall, and I know it’s Vincenzo. Sarah looks toward the noise and backs away, putting her eyes back on mine.
“Vincenzo, sto bene. Rilassati. L’ho gestito.” Vincenzo, I’m fine. Relax. I’ve got it handled, I call out as he fills the doorway.
Depositing his gun in the back of his pants, he looks at me confused.
I motion with my head to the gun at his feet, and he looks down, bending to pick it up, then looks back to me. “What the fuck?” he asks, shaking his head.
I push the door slightly more ajar, allowing Sarah to come into full view.
“Come ho detto.” Like I said, Vincenzo states, surprised to see her.
His eyes take in the scene and appraise what’s happening and then land on my bloodstained shirt. “She shot you?”
“She did,” I answer, still staring at her, my curiosity beginning to fester.
“She’s right here,” Sarah replies sarcastically.
Her arms cross over her chest as we stand in the silence, and I let my eyes search hers. The longer I stare at her, the more her face gives nothing away.
Sarah’s defensive. Interesting. My question niggles at me in the back of my mind. Why the fuck is this girl carrying a gun inside a club that nobody would ever touch? Something’s not right.
I turn to Vin, reminded of the other thing not right. The business we brought to Church tonight.
“Where’s the guy we brought in?”
“Chained to the cabinet…and quiet,” he answers, but I’m staring at Sarah again. And she doesn’t react. At all.
I nod, pulling at the top button of my tuxedo shirt as I study her, struggling against the pain in my arm to pull it free.
Sarah steps toward me and slaps my hands away. “Stop it. Let me,” she breathes, taking over undressing me.
She pulls the buttons closer to her, and I breathe heavily as my arm burns like hell.
“Careful,” Vincenzo directs sternly.
But I lift my hand to quiet him. “Lasciala lavorare.” Let her work.
“Jealous? You want to undress him?” She winks at Vincenzo, and he grumbles and looks away, taking a step just outside the door—enough room to give us privacy but also to remain on guard.
I
grin down at her, whispering, “Like old times…”
I don’t miss her small grin as her fingers pull at each button to reveal more and more of my bare tattooed chest. Just like she did that night.
Despite the pain, I can’t help the filth that’s taking over my thoughts as I watch her eyes travel over my muscles like she wants to eat me up.
“Stop looking at me like that. You told me I only got one night,” I tease, seeing her bite her lip. My kind of girl—thinking dirty thoughts in the middle of bedlam. “Now, answer my question, beautiful.”
A sharp pain shoots through my arm, and I wince as she tugs the sleeve on my good arm to pull the shirt from my body. She gives me an apologetic look and much more gently removes it from around my back.
“Good girl,” I mouth, giving her a wink.
She stills, her eyes faltering, and I swear I can smell her excitement. Fuck I like that—her response to my approval.
Sarah gives her head a little shake. “Hold this.”
She puts my free hand on my shoulder, holding the shirt in place, so she can uncuff the side where she shot me. “It’s your own fault. You do realize that?” she accuses angrily, averting her eyes.
If she was looking at me, she’d see the amusement on my face. Balls of steel, this one.
People don’t speak to me this way.
Ever.
Not just because they respect me—it’s mostly because they fear me.
And that’s justified.
But this badass doesn’t seem to have the sense to feel fear. It’s what drew me in the most when we met. I liked listening to her mouth off then just as much as I’m enjoying it now.
Actually, more now, because I know she likes the punishments I’m itching to give her.
“You’re a brave little thing. I can’t tell if you’re fearless or careless,” I growl as the material brushes over the wound when she pulls it off me.
“Neither.” She smirks, and we lock eyes for a moment.
Folding my shirt long ways, she drags it under my arm, her hands brushing my skin, and wraps it around the wound, tying it hard to stop any bleeding.
“Easy,” I complain as she tightens it more.
Sarah’s eyes dart to mine. “Don’t be a baby.”
Fuck, there’s something about her eyes. I noticed it the night I danced with her at Luca’s wedding. There’s a whole lifetime that’s been lived behind those damn blues.
The corners of my mouth lift minutely against the dark expression that’s taken up residence on my face, and I lean my face closer to hers, watching her features freeze. “The circumstances are shit, but it’s nice to see you again.”
Sarah peeks through a forest of lashes and licks her lips. Damn, I want more of her.
“You didn’t have to get yourself shot to see me. It’s a little extreme, Dante,” she teases, fucking flirtatiously.
That mouth is going to get her in trouble.
My hand runs slowly up the middle of her chest, stopping only to feel her heart beating, and slides upward again until I find my favorite place—wrapped gently around her neck. Tilting her head back, I bring my lips close to hers.
She lets out a small warm raspy breath, peering up at me with hooded eyes.
My lips skim hers as I speak. “Baby, I would fuck you. Here and now, bleeding all over you, letting it mix with our sweat and cum.”
Damn, the way she’s staring at me, like she wants it too, has my chest rising and falling faster.
“And I’d love every minute of it,” she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.
“Fuckkk,” I roar, tipping my head back.
I need to control myself, but this girl brings out the absolute worst in me. No fuck that, she requires it.
Sarah wants me to do my worst to her. But now isn’t the time. I drop my face back to hers.
“You gonna answer my fucking question now?”
Her eyes dart to mine, and she pulls from my grasp as I smirk. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you? It’ll take more than a little flirting to distract me, Billy.”
“Billy?” she questions, her eyes filled with confusion.
“Yeah, like Billy the Kid.”
She rolls her eyes, letting out a growl. Oh, this little kitten’s mean.
“No. I’m not going to answer,” she states bravely.
“I gotta hear this. Why?” I ask, amused with her indignation.
Sarah cranes her neck to look at Vincenzo then back to me. “Because one question leads to more. And If I wanted you to know, I’d tell you.”
I laugh out, and she scowls. Fuck. She makes my dick hard.
Vincenzo takes a step in, ready to make her answer. Because, like me, he knows something’s off here, but a small shake of my head is all that’s needed to cause him to retreat.
“The fact that you won’t answer means I need to know the story. I’m going to find out, so cut the shit.”
That’s the reality. She can protest, but I’ll get my way. She knows that. And I can tell she knows by the way she starts fidgeting and chewing on the inside of her cheek.
She looks at Vin again, like she’s contemplating her next move, before turning back to me. “Are you going to make your goon do the dirty work? Or is this friendly?” she questions warily.
Something about the way she says “friendly” pisses me off, as if I would hurt her, but if she wants a monster, that’s what she’ll get.
My voice drops low with my anger. “We aren’t friends. We fucked and you snuck out. Friends don’t do that, and they’re honest when asked a question. But if you keep pushing back, I’ll let him watch as I get my answers.”
Sarah’s finger pushes into the center of my chest. “Do you think that scares me? You better do worse than that because I’ve known some real monsters in my life, Dante Sovrano.”
She might look furious, but I see the disappointment in her eyes. And that makes me angrier. If she’d just fucking come clean, I could stop pushing, and she could stop making me into an enemy she doesn’t need.
“Tell me what the gun’s for.”
Sarah throws her arms in the air, turning around and walking back to her desk. I reach for her waist to stop her, but my arm is slow moving. Placing her palms on the top of the dark wood, she hangs her head down between her shoulders.
“Tell me,” I growl out to her back, but she doesn’t turn around. “Tell me what I want to fucking know, Sarah?”
“I can’t,” she yells, slapping the desk.
My mind keeps trying to connect dots between what I know about her and why she would be here, now, in this position.
“What’s got you too scared to tell me? Is it a who, not a what? Someone I know…someone from Church?” I press, running my hand up her back and feeling her tense.
“Leave it, tough guy.”
Oh shit. Memories from the night we were together flood my thoughts. Sarah turns around, shaking her head, reaching out to place her hand on my bare chest.
“It’s not what you think…” she whispers, but I cut her off, rage blurring my vision.
“The guy from the party… It’s the asshole who was hitting on you? Did he threaten you?” I growl with deadly fucking intent.
If this asshole has Sarah carrying a gun, afraid for her safety… Motherfucker. My head tips back, anger straining my features. “I’ll bury him, Sarah. But first I’ll make sure he knows what fear really is.”
“Fuck,” she breathes. “Stop. Dante. This has nothing to do with that guy.”
A crease forms between my brows as she answers. “Then who?”
She blinks, but her mouth presses closed.
We’re back at the beginning. That’s fucking it. My patience has run out.
I grab the middle of her shirt, bunching it in my hands and making her body arch toward me, when ringing comes from the floor. My head swings around to look for the intrusion.
She pushes against me to circle the desk, but my hand cages around her arm as I point at it. �
��Vincenzo.”
Where’s the fire? Not so fast.
“No. I got it. Don’t, I’m good…” she spits, as she hurriedly tries to pull away from me, but I hold her bicep tight in my good hand, planting her in place.
“Let go,” she snaps, jerking her arm.
“Not a fucking chance. Settle down or I’ll chain you to the cabinets with the guy in the kitchen.” I warn, and she stills.
“Please give me my phone, Dante.”
Her eyes are pleading. But I don’t care.
This is the closest I’ve seen to fear from her. No fucking way am I giving her that phone. “Not until you tell me everything I want to know. Or maybe the person on the phone can?”
Vin picks it up from where it’s ringing and looks at me, and I nod. “Answer it.”
He hits the Answer button and puts it on speaker, then sets the phone on the desk. I look pointedly at Sarah for her to answer.
But she doesn’t, shaking her head, her angry glare locked to mine. Damn. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before because those eyes really do say it all.
There’s a bite as vicious as a viper in there behind the sexy smiles and flirtatious laughs. This girl has hellfire running through her veins, and whoever she doesn’t want me talking to is most certainly the person who put it there.
My hand tightens around her arm as I bend down, bringing my lips close to her ear. My voice is quietly strained, trying to contain my anger. “Start talking.”
She shakes her head again, unwilling to listen, holding her ground.
I didn’t expect any other response.
I reach out for the phone to say something when a man’s voice fills the space.
“Sarah.” His Boston accent is thick on his tongue. “I know you’re in Chicago. Now you know I am too. See ya soon, girl.”
The line goes dead, and all the heat I felt in her body before drains in an instant. All that fight gone.
She’s ice-cold and trembling. The incarnate of fear. I believe that she knows real monsters because this woman is fucking terrified.
Her back presses against my shirtless chest, and I realize I’ve pulled her into me protectively. I’m nobody’s hero. I barely even know this girl. But there’s a code among criminals: no women, no children.
And whoever that was, broke the code…and broke it hard on Sarah.
Depraved Page 3