by Kyanna Skye
It was his fault, honestly. The way he moved, his husky voice, and pronounced muscles created an aura around him that nobody, not even the coldest, strongest-willed nurse, could ever resist. He did this. He was the reason she was hiding behind the already filled clinic, trying to keep people from seeing her cry. He did this. He lured her in and he decided that he couldn't trust her enough to tell her anything but the most basic facts about himself.
She was so angry she could have killed him, and would've if she thought he had a chance. He had to have her, every single part of her. He couldn't leave anything. She told him about the trailer, her deepest secret. Nobody ever knew that her ex was an addict. Nobody ever went to her place. She dreaded the thought of anyone knowing how she lived, but she gave that up for Tony.
She walked inside the building, and immediately ran to the back. The doctor was holding a gigantic man down, trying to strap him to the gurney, but it wasn't working.
“Ah!” He thrashed and threw a right hook at the doctor, but he missed, and when Lana got a chance to wrap the leather strap over his chest and pin his arm down, she took it.
“You wanna die or you wanna get that bullet out of you?” the doctor barked.
“GET IT OUT!”
The doctor should've let him bleed out. It was no wonder the man was so upset, Lana thought bitterly. He had a gash in his stomach. When a person is shot in the stomach, the acid seeps out and eats away at the skin. It takes twenty minutes of gruesome torture before the person passes away.
At least they died. Lana would have to deal with the pain Tony caused her for the rest of her life. She was heartbroken. She didn't have the energy to hustle, or the stomach to look at a man she knew was going to die. She couldn't function, because she let Tony into her life and he betrayed her.
That's what it was: betrayal. He told her that she could trust him, and he lied to her. He told her that she could be safe with him, and they were shot at. He told her those things time and time again, and every single time she gave into him and let him take her.
He'd probably be waiting outside the clinic again, but she wouldn't go with him. Not this time. She'd finally found a reason to walk away and she was going to stick to it. He abandoned a woman carrying his child, and left her to fend for herself.
Lana found herself in the break room almost as soon as she was done helping the doctor with that man in the OR. She needed coffee. It wouldn't help with the anxiety, it would probably make it worse, but at least it would give her the energy she needed to run around and help these men.
She walked out with confidence, only to find that most of the beds were empty. The receptionist was disposing of some bodies in the incinerator, and looked up at Lana when she walked out. “Cheer up,” she said.
“What do you mean cheer up?” Lana got in her face.
“Just that he's not the one, but that's okay. There's somebody out there for you.”
“How do you know?” She threw her cup down onto the ground.
“He's my uncle. He told my father this morning. He won't even leave his house. He's so upset.”
“Well, good, because he shouldn't have lied about that woman.”
“Kirstie is a lady, not a woman,” a voice behind her said, “and you're right. He shouldn't have lied about her.” Lana turned around to see a young, medium-built man with tousled, brown hair.
“What?” she asked. He was staring at her.
“Everyone else is sleeping and I have a bullet in my arm.”
“You do, don't you?” She got up to meet his eyes. “Why should I take it out?”
“Bad day?”
“Bad evening.”
“I heard.”
“You heard, did you? What did you fucking hear?”
“He knocked my sister up, and tried to abandon her. He should face the consequences.”
She sanitized her hands and put on a pair of gloves.
“And he should've told you about her. They're saying that's why you left him.” He ducked down to get a look at his foot. Somebody shot his little toe and the bullet had been lodged in between his foot bones.
“I think that women should be equal partners in a relationship. I'm not going to be some human sex doll he can show around.” She sat up to address him. “I'm a human being.”
“I was so pissed when I heard that he got with you, honestly.” She started pulling out the bullet.”
“Why?” she asked, staring up his legs.
“Because he doesn't treat women the way they're supposed to be treated, and after what he did to my sister, he doesn't deserve to be with anyone. I was worried. What if he did that to you?”
“Oh, I'd have killed him.”
“And I wouldn't blame you,” he said.
She dressed the wound and began stitching him up. “I'm not making the same mistake again.”
He reached down and lifted her chin. “You deserve to be treated like a princess.”
“Thank you.”
“Let me try. Go with me tonight. I'll show you the city.”
“I don't even know your name.”
“Marco.”
She looked back down and resumed stitching. “Marco, you're involved in this life, and that means that you could put me in danger. You'd never tell me about your business, and you probably see women like me,” she finished stitching, “as possessions.”
“I'm not a part of this life. I'd never get involved in anything so sick.” He stood up and offered her his hand. “And you don't know me. I tell everything to the woman I love.”
“What do you want to do?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Take you out to eat and maybe walk down the beach.”
“Why do you want me? Because he had me? Who are you?”
“I'm just me, and you'll never know until you get to know me.”
“I need your word that he won't find out about this—nobody,” she pointed around the room, “can know about this.”
“Of course,” he answered.
“I get off at 6.”
He flashed her a smile. “I'll see you then.” He turned around and walked out as if he hadn't been shot at all.
“I knew it,” the receptionist called out from behind the desk.
“Knew what?”
“When I saw him come in, I knew you'd get with him. Marco's a charmer. You'll like him.”
Lana didn't have a single dress to wear. Her lipstick was down to the nub and all her eyeliner pencils were completely shot. She had to remind herself that if that mattered, so many men wouldn't be going for her. It was a first date. It would be casual, and if it was formal, she wouldn't take part in it, because she was not getting swept off her feet by a cocky billionaire.
It didn't matter, honestly. Marco seemed simple, wearing a black tank top and faded jeans when he was in the clinic. He didn't seem like a tuxedo kind of guy. His boots were stained with mud and his jeans had holes at the bottom of the pant legs.
Tony was rough, but he didn't get his hands dirty. Marco was rugged and as tough as Tony was, with scraggly hair on his chin and a wild look. When he came to pick her up, she noticed the way his eyes kept darting back and forth.
He was an animal.
“Come on.” He pulled her outside and into the passenger seat of a white corvette.
“Where are we going?”
“To a restaurant.”
He pulled onto the road so fast her head slammed into the back of the headrest, and he didn't stop, not once. When they hit a stop sign, he gassed it without a second's notice onto the major street where he whipped between cars while ignoring stoplights.
He turned to her. “This okay?”
“Heck yeah, it is!” She threw up her arm “WHOOO!”
“We never get stopped. Nobody cares. The only time people investigate is when we kill somebody, and even then, they grease the wheels, so I have my way with the city and tear into her every single chance I get.”
He snarled and let his eyes move over he
r.
She leaned back and let the thrill just pass her over. They stopped at a seaside shack with a ship's wheel hanging on the wall next to a net. The place looked like a dump. The paint was chipping and the whole thing was being held up by a pier that looked like it was mostly cardboard and barnacles.
“What's this?” she asked.
He sucked in air sharply through his teeth. “The best fresh catch in the city.”
She was eating fresh catch with another gangster, and she didn't have a single problem with it. Tony would hate this. He would've ripped the man's head off, and thrown him to the sharks. Nothing gave her more joy than imagining the look on his face if he saw them together.
“It's not that bad,” he said.
The carpet was peeling away from the floor.
“It's terrible.”
“Sit down.” He led her to a booth.
“Fine.” She took a seat.
The waitress, a ball of wrinkles, came up to their table, dressed in an ancient, white shirt that had yellowed over the years. “Hi,” she was a cheery as a Japanese schoolgirl. “My name is Glenda and I'll be taking your order.”
“We'll have two clam chowders, two beers, and a sampler basket.”
“Hey,” she said as the waitress walked off. “You didn't even give me a chance to order.”
“Everything else tastes like crap.” He took a roll from the breadbasket in the center of the table and took a bite of it. “You're gonna love it. I promise.”
“So,” she stared out the window next to her. “You're not involved. That's what Tony told me. What makes you different?”
“I cut ties with the family completely. They don't like it, but they accept it.”
“And the money?”
“Trust fund.”
She sighed.
“You don't trust me, but you won't know unless you take the risk.”
She wanted the risk. Screw caution—repeating all the same old mistakes. That didn't matter, not with an angel staring at her, smiling.
“I'll give you tonight, and if things work out tonight, then we'll see.”
The chowder arrived in an over-sized mug with soup crackers and a refill of rolls.
“This?” She picked up the spoon and let the watery goop flow down it.
“It's the best clam chowder you will ever find in your entire life. Try it.” He dipped a roll in and took a bite.
She took a small, steaming spoonful of the broth and blew on it.
“Oh, come on.”
“Fine.” She stuck the spoon in her mouth and threw her head back. The fresh saltwater burst in and mixed seamlessly with the cream, creating an enticing mixture that left her wanting more. “Oh, god.”
“Bet you're as wet as those clams, aren't you?”
She blushed and took a piece of a roll to dip it into her soup. “He never answered any of my questions. That bothered me more than anything. I never got a word out of him. He kept saying that I would know what I needed to know.”
“It's a requirement when you're active in the life, but since I cut ties with the family, I have nothing to hide. My life is simple. I work at the docks and own a house off the beach. Other than that, I don't know. What about you? You work for the clinic, but nobody knows anything about you.”
“See, that's the thing. You talk to people that are involved in this.”
“You're misunderstanding the term family. Family is a member of the gang. Unfortunately, my close family is all part of it. Friends, acquaintances—some of them know people in the family, but none of them are a part of it.”
There it was, just like with Tony—a half truth, and that wasn't going to fly. The thrill was amazing, but she could get that elsewhere. Maybe she could go skydiving, but at that moment, she had no place in the restaurant with him.
“I think I'm gonna go home.”
“What? Why? Come on.”
“No. I want to go home. Take me home.”
“Not until I finish my food.” There was a big, steaming basket of assorted fried seafood sitting untouched in the center of the table.
“I really don't want to wait. Can't you get a box or something?”
“Sit down,” he urged her. “If you wanna go home after I've eaten, I'll take you home.”
She sat back down reluctantly and finished her chowder while he devoured pieces of shrimp and fish like a ravenous beast.
“What is it?”
“If I sit down and start explaining my issues with you, you'll try to argue them away and it won't work.”
He shrugged and reached into his pocket to pull out a shooter of vodka. He took it with a bite of fish. “Want one? I have another.”
“No, thank you.” She wretched at the thought of the rancid liquid pouring down her throat. He shrugged and took another.
“You gotta try these hush puppies, you know.” He popped one in his mouth. “They've got that ocean taste.”
The taste sitting in her mouth was no longer tantalizing. It was worse than the vodka, because he force-fed her then handed her a lie. At least Tony told her when she couldn't ask questions.
“Why'd you get shot?”
“Target practice.” He was lying, and he actually thought that she was going to swallow it, but he wasn't.
“I'll take a cab.” She got up, but he grabbed her hand when she tried to leave.
“Let me take you home.”
“You've been drinking.”
“I never drive without drinking.” He got up, dropped a wad of hundreds on the table, and left. He wasn't just born with family ties; he was a hustler. The way he threw around his cash—that wasn't a trust fund. That was a steady flow of illegal money.
She walked behind him, and let him open the door chivalrously. Then they hopped into his corvette and they started driving, fast this time, but his style was aggressive. He opened the center console when they stopped at the light and pulled out what looked like a bullet.
“What are you doing?” she shot back, terrified.
“Relax.” The bottom of the bullet slid open. He held it up to his nostril and took a huge whiff. The man was taking bumps of coke, driving at nearly 80 miles an hour, shooting down the major streets of San Diego. Then he pulled out a bottle of Patron and took a swig.
“Come on.” He handed it to her.
She looked at the bottle like he was handing her a grenade. “No.”
He shrugged and flipped the car in a circle at a beach turn off.
“What are you doing?” She was petrified.
“You know what?” He took another bump. “I'm not letting you get away just because of some some twisted fucking complex in that tiny brain of yours. You're too fucking sexy.” He took another shot.
“Are you calling me dumb?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“I am a medical professional performing procedures most doctors couldn't handle, and you're nothing but a filthy gangster, taking advantage of people so you can get ahead. Now hand me that bottle.”
He did and she threw it out the window. It smashed on the pavement and he slapped her right in the face, evoking a fury he never could have possibly imagined.
She bashed his head into the steering wheel and reached into the glove compartment where she was certain she'd find a pistol. She was right. She put it up to his temple before he could react.
“You just hit me.”
“Yeah, I did. Now get that gun away from my head.” He tried to swipe it away, but she held it in place and cocked it.
“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” she asked.
He went dead still.
“I asked you a question! Do you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior?”
“Why are you asking me that?” His voice was low.
“I'm warning you. When I pull this trigger and you're not right with God, you're going to burn in hell.”
“Yeah?” He reached down with a laugh, whipped the gun out of her hand and pulled out a peashooter that had been strapped
to his ankle.
“Now, I don't care who you believe in. You so much as twitch and Tony will be staring at your entrails on the evening news.” He used his other hand to open the bullet and took another bump.
She didn't move, breathe, or even blink, but she did twitch and felt the cold metal sticking into her head as a warning when he started the car back up again and somebody rear-ended them.
“Careful Tony!” Marco got out of the car with his hands up, and nearly got shot in the shoulder.
“Tony! Help!” He was standing behind the door of a black SUV with an assault rifle creeping out from behind the door.
“Tony, what happens if the heir to the Carter family kills the heir to the Lorrentz family? It's gonna kill hundreds of people.”
He shot Marco in the ear and screamed, “Lana in the car.”
She jumped out of the car and into the SUV where she grabbed the bulletproof blanket and threw it over her body. He got in, slammed the door, and started driving.
“Oh, god. I'm so sorry, Lana.”
“No, it's my fault. Just go.”
She couldn't see what was going on. “Is he following us?”
“It won't matter.” He was losing it.
“What do you mean?”
“The Lorrentz family doesn't allow direct attacks against family members. We've got to get to safety immediately. He's bringing people in.”
“Isn't there anywhere we can go?”
“The tunnel.”
She reached out for his hand and held it as tight as she could.
The End
Filthy Escape: An Alpha Male Billionaire Romance
When Jamie Lombardo opened her eyes she was staring right into the face of her alarm clock. The numbers 5:33 AM peered back at her, almost mockingly. Quickly she did the math in her head, recalling that the last time she had been awake enough to read the numbers on her clock had been 2:01 AM. She had been asleep for less than four hours.
Shit, she thought half angrily and half excitedly.
Rolling onto her back she looked up at the blank ceiling above her bed, which she had stared at with a brooding intensity the night before. She had been so excited over what was to happen today that sleep had seemed all but impossible. Impossible, but it was necessary to attempt at any rate because she knew that she needed to be rested for today. She had even pulled out all of her tricks, save one, that would have helped her to find her rest.