Straight, No Chaser: A Mafia Alpha Bad Boy Romance

by Nikki Belaire

  As soon as he clicks off, I swipe the screen like a pussy whipped fucker, and my body relaxes from three simple words: I miss you.

  Miss you too, angel.

  I fight everything in me not to type for her to get her ass home. Only a few more hours and she’ll be all mine again.

  I need something to distract me. Pulling up the reports Derek sent, I review the forecast for next quarter until my cell pings again. Boz this time.

  We’re home.

  I fling the phone onto my desk and stride down the hall. Ready to find her. Better be in my bed where she fucking belongs. Yet, the house remains oddly quiet. I know Ty and her friend are trashed, and she's feeling pretty good too from all the updates my guys sent, so I can't believe they aren't loud and annoying like my brother usually is.

  Bedroom. Living room. Kitchen. All fucking empty.

  I stand in the foyer like a dumb ass. No place else she could be. Except one. Fire races through my veins. Fuck no. She can't be in there.

  Nausea boils in my gut as I jog downstairs. Ty's play room. Shrieks of laughter echo from behind the heavy door. I haven't been in here since Rachael. Not since I let my thoughtlessness end an innocent woman's life.

  Bile clogs my throat from my angel's delicate wrist bound to the St. Andrew's cross with a red silk scarf. Covering her bracelet. Stealing her innocence that this room even exists.

  Her friend fumbles with the other restraint, too drunk to tighten it properly while Ty nuzzles her neck from behind. Both of them too lost in each other to notice me. Or Molly's angst.

  I swear I can see her fucking heart pounding under her lacy tank. That looks too fucking much like lingerie without the little jacket. Her gaze bores into mine. Her lush mouth parting, but not uttering a word.

  She's fucking beautiful but wrong. So god damn fucking wrong.

  "Luciano?"

  Panic darkens her expression from the horror that must cover mine. She fights against the binding but she's too tipsy to break free from her giggling friend oblivious to her struggle. Timorous. Trapped. Terrified.

  "No. Not like this."

  Not with her. Not ever again.

  I want to rip her off the leather boards, but I can't touch her. Can't tear my eyes from the worry shining in hers. Can't do a damn thing but back away. Racing down the hall, my head aches as much as my heart. I've fucked up. I've fucked up so fucking bad.

  I'm actually shaking like a fucking pussy. Unable to blame anyone but myself. No beating or bullet can fix this. Nothing can fix what I've done.

  I head to the liquor cabinet and grab a bottle from the counter. Where just a few hours ago, I made her gloriously happy. Made her body scream with pleasure.

  Which was a huge mistake. She's a good girl. Like Ty said. She's supposed to be in a bed with the lights off in her nightgown. Not strewn out on a cold, hard table top like a whore. That's what I'm making her. Turning her into.

  I suck down three long drinks before my stomach lurches in protest. Already swilling from the image of her at our mercy. Corrupting her innocence.

  I've got to take a fucking shower. Only a few steps into the bathroom, a door slams from behind me. I jerk around from my brother stumbling inside, shoving off the door frame with his shoulder. Too fucking drunk to walk straight. Molly curls against his chest.

  "Somebody likes being tied up."

  Rage curls my fist from his flippant tone. Like this is some kind of fucking joke. No the fuck she doesn't, and he didn't even fucking realize it. But I don't know what's fucking worse. That he didn't catch it, or I didn't do anything about it.

  I let him lay her on the bed before I attack him. Ramming him from behind once he stands up and slamming him against the wall. "Did you fuck her?"

  "What the fuck are yo—?"

  I shove my forearm against the back of his neck. Smashing his fucking face into the drywall. "Fucking answer me!"

  "No!" He gets a hard elbow to my gut, and I stumble back. Catching a fist to my eye as he spins around. "Fuck no I didn't fuck her. I’m not a fucking rapist you stupid asshole."

  My ass busts against the dresser, cracking the mirror with my back from the force. Motherfucker’s stupid but strong.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Everything. “Just get the fuck out of here.”

  “Fuck you.” He rubs his cheek, sprinkled with tiny specks of white paint over the ruddy skin from my assault. “If I didn’t have Aspen waiting for me downstairs, I’d kick your fucking ass.”

  “So you were going to fuck both of them, but Molly passed out before you could?”

  “God, you really are a fucking psycho. No, I’m going to fuck Aspen but she was too scared to go in the playroom so she drug Molly along to check it out. They were having fun until Molly said she didn’t feel good and I brought her up here.” His finger jerks toward my angel curled on the bed. Long hair splayed across half of her gorgeous face. “You know she’s not into that kind of stuff. Besides, for whatever’s the fuck’s wrong with her head, she’s in love with you. She wants to be with you.”

  Fuck me if I don’t almost fucking explode from hearing that. Even though I’ve never done a damn thing to earn any of her affection. But I shake my head, blowing off my brother’s idiotic analysis. “You’re the psycho.”

  “All she talked about all night was you. Never danced with anyone else. Fuck she never even looked at anyone else. Just kept checking her phone probably hoping for a text from your stupid ass.”

  Contempt darkens his face as he shakes his head. “Which I don’t know why the way you keep jerking her around. You’re nothing but an asshole and don’t deserve her.”

  “Yeah I know.”

  He shrugs his shoulders and strides to the door. Nothing left for either of us to say. Accurate on all counts.

  My chest constricts with a deep sigh, and I tuck the comforter around her. Brushing silky blond strands behind her ear. Caressing the soft skin of her shoulder. Almost wishing she would wake up and reach out to me. Ask me to stay with her. Hold her. Love her. Anything at all. Because here in the darkness it’s easy to ignore the weight threatening to topple me. Pretend desperation and greed don’t rule in my world. That her goodness can save us. Save me.

  But she remains motionless. Only her even breathing fills my ears. Her sweet face filling my chest with shame.

  At six, I push out of my chair where I’ve kept vigil over her all night. She only stirred once. Mumbling something I couldn’t make out. But the hint of the smile tugging at her lush mouth came through clear. She’s fucking stunning even in her sleep.

  Returning her earlier favor, I set out two pills and a bottle of water before taking a quick shower. My dick needy with the thought of her waking up, looking for me. But my brain knows the truth. I hurt her. Last night. The day before. All the time. And, it’s got to stop. Because she won’t be able to forgive me or herself much more.

  Eli will be up soon, and I’ve got to get both of us out of here before she wakes. I don’t even know why. Maybe I really am fucking psycho. But pretending that we’re a happy family stuffing our faces with homemade waffles and planning a trip to the park or some other wholesome way to spend the day together is too much of a fucking farce to endure.

  I’m a lucky fucking bastard when I make it to my little brother’s room. He’s sliding sections of track out of the bin and piling them next to the three story parking garage. The perfect picture of innocence that hasn’t been corrupted yet by his jaded brothers. “What’re you doing?”

  Grogginess still darkens his expression although he does manage a small smile. “Molly said she would play cars with me so I’m getting the city set up.”

  Fucking kills me to crush his enthusiastic spirit. “Sorry little man, but Molly’s belly hurts. She needs to stay in bed for a while.”

  “Oh.”

  The plastic slides out of his hand, and he doesn’t even flinch when it hits his foot. His heart too sad to notice.

  “Will
you play with me?”

  If I was a good brother, I would. Totally drop down and build a huge ass town and take every single fucking vehicle to the mechanic and restaurant and drive in. But, I’m not a good brother. Not at all. I’m a fucking selfish asshole who only cares about hiding from the people he hurts. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go see my Mom.”

  His shoulders droop as much as his quivering mouth. Please fucking god don’t cry. “Do you want to come with me? I can take you out for breakfast.”

  He perks up from my enticing tone. Little man loves going out to the diner near her house. Spinning on the red stools lined up to the counter while he waits for his plate of sweets and meats. “Yeah!”

  “Well, get dressed then. We’ve got to get going so we’re not late.”

  I don’t even finish talking before he’s yanking off his pajamas and digging in his drawer for clothes. Shirts and shorts laid out in perfect matching sets thanks to Mrs. Benson. But without a woman’s touch he still ends up with a cowlick I can’t get to fucking lay down. He doesn’t seem bothered by it so why the fuck should I.

  We hustle pretty fast until we reach the car, where he drops the small bag I let him pack, trying to juggle the slick handles while climbing into the backseat. So fucking slow picking up each fucking marker and sticker. But it’ll piss him off I try to hurry him up and our get-away will take that much longer. He’s even more stubborn than I am if that’s possible.

  Finally, after what feels like half his fucking lifetime, he crawls in and buckles his seat belt. A huge smile brightening his face. He loves my mother as much as I do. A gentle woman who never begrudges Eli for being a symbol of her ruined marriage and the subsequent failures that came after hers.

  “Can we sit up front?”

  “Can you be good?”

  Shame pinks his cheeks. A reminder of last time when we had to leave early. Sneaking out the side door because he kept jumping on and off the kneeler.

  “I was three then. I’m grown up now.”

  My chuckle pisses him off, and he crosses his little arms. Disgust radiating through his tone and body.

  “I am!”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down, sir.”

  A few more huffs before he settles in to watch the movie. At least it’s a cartoon I haven’t seen in a while if I have to listen to it blare for the next forty-five minutes. No surprise that traffic is light. Most people still in bed this early. Except for the people honoring their weekly Sunday commitments. And those of us too exhausted to sleep.

  We pull into the parking lot just as the warning bells sound. My Mom would admonish me that they are inviting everyone to join in the services. Offering the love of the Lord to the entire community. But even as a kid I knew they signaled the shame of being late.

  Bounding to the front, Eli waves to my mother as she sings the opening hymn. Her voice really is breathtaking. Rich and smooth, making her seem like she’s on a stage rather than an altar. She surely would have been famous had she not sacrificed her career for my father. Naïve enough to believe the lies he told her, as well as to himself, that he was capable of changing. For her.

  Until his secretary impressed him with more than her typing skills. And the line of mistresses grew as tired as my mom’s patience.

  There’s something oddly comforting about the ritual. Kneel, stand, sit. Always in the same order. The same words I heard as a child. A glimpse into the past with the blurry lens that gives the illusion of perfection. When I know for damn sure my childhood was anything but perfect.

  Eli slumps against my shoulder, his fingers wrapping around my forearm. Still sleepy from his early rise plus the long car ride. Over and over, he runs his silver Mustang down my leg and back up his. The same endless loop I feel stuck in. That I need to fucking break.

  He perks up when I drop to my knees. Standing next to me, he looks back and forth between our seat and the pew in front of us. Contemplating jumping off the brown vinyl kneeler. His eyes widen when my head shakes. Yeah buddy, I am a fucking mind reader.

  Parishioners stand for his favorite part. One by one they form an unhurried line that he scrambles to join in. He crosses his little arms just like mom taught him, so he can receive the blessing if not communion. Not sure if I believe in any of this. But I do the honorable thing and stand to the side while the priest offers a prayer over him. Rather than risk my mother’s ire or the flames of hell for taking the host when I know I for damn sure I haven’t met the requirement of a clean conscience to receive the body of Christ. Probably never will.

  The return of his energy signals the loss of his patience. Unable to sit still any longer even with his coloring books. He skips toward the vestibule after I point to the huge stain glass window glowing from the burgeoning sunlight behind it. Happy to be free again.

  His serenade fills the car, surprising me that he remembers as many words as he does. Pride thumps in my chest again. I may be a failure as a stand-in father, but he continues to amaze me with his intelligence and creativity.

  "Can we go again next week?"

  Fuck me. A child asking to be taken to church. Who the hell am I to say no. "Sure, if you want to."

  "Yay!" He dances in his seat, which seems a bit sacrilegious to be jamming to mass hymns. But the kid does have rhythm. "We can bring Molly too. She likes to sing with me."

  Hearing her name feels like a punch to the gut. Not that she has left my thoughts for even a second. I carry her with me like my Glock. Relaxed when I have my weapon, restless when I don't. Just like her love. That I better get fucking used to being without.

  Eli's request reminds me how deeply I've embedded her in both of our lives. How fucking stupid I am to think that now I can so easily walk away. "Yeah, of course."

  My reward for agreeing to his request is him dialing up the volume to his singing. His head tilted back against his car seat, screaming in all his off key glory. Annoying but adorable. For about two minutes. Then I'm going to fucking run us off the road just to make it stop. I hate dumping him in front of the TV but I'm losing it here. So I push the button for the DVD player. Sponge Bob's irritating laugh drowns out Eli's solo before he's totally enraptured with the cartoon. Peace engulfs the SUV. Thank fucking god.

  He's antsy again by the time we reach the restaurant. Leaving fingerprints on the windows from scanning the parking lot for my Mom that the detailers are going to bitch about having to clean. But she spoils him with the only grandmotherly love he knows, so the crew will just have to understand and shut the fuck up.

  Luckily it's only eight o'clock. This place's a dive, but still hugely popular. Eli would be so disappointed if our spots at the counter were taken. A booth or table would never satisfy his desire to whirl.

  Eli's the perfect wing man. As soon as the waitress spots his adorable face, lit up with an enormous smile, she hustles over. Pouring coffee for me and chocolate milk for him. Without us even having to speak, she jots down our order and hangs it on the old school silver wheel. My little brother's eyes light up every time the carousel spins. His stubby fingers itching to twirl it himself. The simple joy of a four-year-old.

  All he has to do is ask, and I know the waitress will let him. No one can resist his charm. I start to signal her, when a hand curls over my shoulder. "Luciano."

  Mom.

  Like I'm a damn kid myself, some of the heaviness weighing on my chest lifts from her soothing voice and gentle touch. I jerk around and stand, engulfing her delicate body.

  Despite her frailty, she hugs me tight. Holds me too long. In the middle of this bustling restaurant forcing the wait staff, balancing steaming hot coffee pots and platters heaped with scrambled eggs and sausage links, to weave around us. I can't seem to let her go either.

  "Gram Judy color with me!"

  She finally releases me from Eli's request. With her palm on the side of my face, she studies me. Never flinching from my gaze. As if she knows I'm insane yet loves me anyway. More than she'll ever understand.

  Her small
hand, still dark with weeks old bruising, curls around mine as I help her balance to slide onto the vinyl. She clutches the counter edge to steady herself. Thankfully, Eli's oblivious to her struggle. Exactly the way she wants it to remain. Protecting him from the ravage to her body.

  Our version of family may be fucked up. Yet no one can deny the love between the two of them. As strong as any grandmother and grandson. At least in spirit if not by blood.

  "What have we got here?"

  He slides the book over to her. Offering the left page and a red marker. "Horses! Molly lives on a farm and we're going to ride them and brush them and pick out their hooves because you have to take care..."

  Now the wattage of her smile surpasses his. The enthusiasm contagious as they work. Enjoying his relentless chatter revolving around everything Molly. While I savor their easy going banter and ignore the battle raging in my conscience.

  "Maybe next time you can bring Molly with you."

  "That's what I said!"

  Both their heads whip toward me. Mom with a knowing look that I choose to ignore. Because she's closer than she suspects to the truth behind the impact Molly's had on us. On me. Instead, I put my hands up in defeat to my brother. "Why I am in trouble? I said she could."

  Eli pats her arm. "It's true. He did."

  She laughs, genuine and robust, from his sincere absolution of me. A sound I haven't heard often enough lately. Saved from any more inquisition by the delivery of our food. Pancakes and bacon for us guys; veggie omelet and English muffin for her. I've got to get my ass to the gym when I get home.

  Home.

  Where Molly is. Any more she defines home to Eli. And fucking me too if I'm honest with myself. But, right now I'm not sure if I want to run away or hurry back.

  "Can we come over? I want to dig with you."

  Mom chuckles along with me. He loves to search for worms while she prunes her flowers. Helping her lug around bags of mulch bigger than himself while earning the occasional ride in the wheel barrow. Both of them able to piddle for hours in and around the house I bought for her. After the way my father fucked her over, the least I can do is keep her free of financial worry. Now she can spend the time she has left puttering in her garden and volunteering at her church.