by Lexi Cross
Then Ryder’s gun came down hard on the guy’s head. He started to drop, but Ryder caught him with one arm before he could make a loud thud on the wooden porch.
The cigarette fell and Ryder stepped on it to crush it. He dragged the guy, one arm under his armpit, one hand over his mouth in case he came to, into the woods. When they’d gone far enough—beyond shouting distance from headquarters—he let the guy fall to the ground.
Ryder went through every pocket. He found a gun, a knife, his wallet. He took it all. The ID in the wallet said Rich. He waited a minute or two, then got bored and kicked Rich in the ribs. He didn’t wake on the first blow, but by the third, he grunted and curled into a ball on his side.
Rich mumbled something unintelligible and Ryder pressed his gun to his forehead.
“Sit up,” Ryder said.
Rich blinked a few times, then seemed to finally realize what was going on. He pushed himself up to a seated position and reached back behind him, probably going for a gun.
But Ryder was no amateur. He spun Rich’s gun on his finger. Rich saw it and glared.
“Rich,” Ryder said, then tossed aside the wallet. “You should carry more cash.” He stuck the seventy dollars into his pocket and pressed harder with the gun. “Do you know who I am?”
“No.” Rich made a disgusted face at him. “But you’re dead when I find out.”
“Then I guess I have to kill you first. Easy enough. I just need some information from you before I shoot you.”
Rich spit at him. “Screw you. I’m not telling you anything.”
Ryder wiped the spit from his face with one hand, then reached to his back and pulled out the knife. He swooped down and stabbed the knife into the meat at Rich’s calf. Rich screamed and grabbed at his leg. He reached for the knife. Ryder yanked the blade back out and held it at his side, ready to use it again if he had to. Rich whimpered and held his leg as blood poured from the wound.
“Make no mistake,” Ryder said. “I am not here to play games or fuck around. You will give me the information I need.”
“Okay, okay.” Rich held up his bloodied hands. “What do you want?”
“Solano. What does he want with Pia Carelli and why is he marrying her?”
Rich pressed on his leg, trying to stop the bleeding, but the blood still poured out between his fingers. “No idea what you’re talking about. You’re nuts, man.”
Ryder kicked Rich’s injured leg. He screamed in pain.
“I said I don’t know!” He swore under his breath.
“You’ve never heard the name Pia Carelli?”
“Nope.”
“How about Matteo Carelli?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Ryder raised his hand again, positioning the knife. “You want to try a different answer?”
“I said I don’t know. That’s the truth.”
Ryder brought his hand down again. This time the knife stabbed in between the thin bones in Rich’s hand, the point going straight through into his calf once more.
Rich let out a scream so loud, Ryder worried it might alert someone back at headquarters, or if anyone happened to be closer than he knew.
“Okay!” Rich held his wounded hand close to his chest, pressing it against his body, and pressed his uninjured hand to his calf. “Pia, yeah. I heard of her.”
“Thought so. And?”
“Paolo’s marrying her.”
“Why?”
Rich was talking fast now, the pain likely overwhelming him. “He wants to jump her bones. I don’t know.”
Ryder cracked him across the face with the butt of his gun. “There’s more to it than that.”
Rich swore again. “Not really. Paolo’s wanted her for a long time, but she wasn’t interested, and Matteo wouldn’t sell her. Who knows why. Got a thing for her.”
“How did he convince Matteo to play along?”
“Paolo made a deal go bad so Matteo owed him a lot of money. Then he sent some guy to kidnap Pia. Was going to use her as bait, but the job got botched. So, he made a deal. Matteo got his debt erased, and Pia would be safe, so long as he made her marry him.”
“Solano trashed a deal on purpose to get her and sent the guy to attack her?” Ryder was so pissed, he was seeing red. But it wasn’t totally unexpected. Everything he knew of Solano was that he was a shady, sneaky guy. This wasn’t beneath him. But it also meant that Ryder would die keeping her away from him. He’d never let her fall into the hands of such a ruthless and violent man. Never.
“Where is Paolo now?” Ryder demanded.
“I don’t know.” Rich held up his uninjured hand. “I really don’t, I swear!”
He might have been telling the truth. Ryder didn’t care. He kicked him hard in the ribs. Rich doubled over, coughing and holding his chest.
“Please,” Rich whimpered. “I don’t know. He left yesterday. Said he was going to prepare for the wedding. Whatever that means. I don’t know where he is. I might be able to find out, though.”
“When is the wedding?”
“Soon. A few days, I think. It’s not like he sent out invites, you know.”
A few days. Of course he had to rush it so that nothing could happen. No one could interfere. Like Ryder was about to.
“Who knows where Paolo is right now?”
Rich groaned in pain and muttered, “Probably Tony. His second in command.”
“And where is this Tony?”
“Home. On Fairfield Street. He’ll be at headquarters by nine in the morning.”
Ryder nodded to himself. That was still a few hours away. Too long to wait. “What’s the house number on Fairfield?”
“It’s 9349.”
He thought through what he needed to know. Had Rich told him everything? There was nothing else Ryder could think of that he might know that would help. It was just a matter of getting to Solano now. Or to Pia. It might be easier to get to her than to get to Solano to kill him. But Matteo would be watching for him, while Solano wouldn’t be. The element of surprise would help him tremendously.
“Anything else you think I should know?” Ryder asked.
“You’re a jackass.”
Ryder pulled the trigger and shot Rich in the head. “Already knew that.”
His body slumped over. Ryder held a finger to his wrist to feel his pulse. His heart beat once, stuttered, beat once more, then stopped.
Ryder took the towel from his pocket, wiped the body down and the blade, then dropped it on top of him. He took out his lighter and set the body on fire. Then he took off running, or hobbling quickly. The broken ribs still kept him from running normally.
He ran back to his car, the pain creeping in again all over his body as he forced himself to move faster. His ribs ached with every breath. It was like sucking in fire, but he made it to his car. He pulled away, doing the speed limit as always, making it look like he was up to nothing more than a late-night drive.
He needed to hit home to clean up, get more painkillers, and research Fairfield Street. He didn’t want to drive over there cold, and at least having a map and a satellite view would give him some idea of what to expect when he went to the place.
He’d dig up this Tony guy and find out where Solano was. Then he’d hunt him down and take him out. When that was done, he could go back to Matteo’s, grab Pia, and go. He still wasn’t sure where, but at this point, it didn’t matter. He would kill Matteo first. And Lorenzo and anyone else who was around or in the way. Then they could go almost anywhere.
Ryder smiled at the thought. He pictured Pia somewhere beautiful, walking along a sandy beach, white fabrics flowing from her body. Her stomach, round and shining in the moonlight. Their baby, tiny and sleeping in his arms. Pia holding him as Ryder looked on. When he got older, the child running to Daddy with his arms wide. Or maybe a little girl with pigtails and a pink dress.
He’d never pictured these things before. Never wanted them. Now that he was so close, he couldn’t imagine not having wan
ted this all before. Maybe it was just Pia. Maybe he’d never wanted these things because he hadn’t met her yet. She was the one he wanted this with. Not just anyone. The sassy, tiny, mafia boss’s daughter, who’d been such a pain in his ass, who was now the love of his life, the mother of his child. And hopefully many more children to come. He hadn’t wanted a family before because he only wanted a family with her.
Until she came along, he was just a hitman. Killing for a living, trying not to be killed. Surviving until the next gig. Now, it wasn’t just about surviving. It was about living. She made him feel alive. Despite the pain radiating through his chest from his broken ribs and the pain of missing her and worrying about her, there was still warmth there. The thought of her name or face brought a grin to his lips and warmth through his whole body. How long would it be until he could hold her again, make love to her again?
The thought made him hard, which helped the pain slightly. His blood was diverted for a moment to his raging hard on. But that longing was a pain all its own. He needed her. Simple as that. Ryder, who’d never needed anyone or anything in his whole life, needed this woman. He would get to her. And he would save her.
Chapter 17
“Here. Eat.” Lu came into her room and dropped a plate of food in front of her. Then he left, locking the door behind him.
The plate was steaming, a nice big heap of chicken and spaghetti. It smelled okay, but the thought of food made her stomach turn. She could throw up right now from having the food so close to her. She pushed it to the door and went to her bed, pulling the covers up over her head to keep out the smell. She would have tried to get them to take it back out of the room, but it’d be no use.
Ever since her little stunt trying to get him on her side, Lu had refused to even look at her. All of them did. They barely spoke to her. They barked commands. Eat. Sleep. But that was it. She felt so alone and missed Ryder desperately.
She’d thought that by now he would have come for her. It had been more than thirty hours since she’d seen him. If he was going to rescue her, it probably would have happened by now. She knew he was no longer in the house. She spent as much time as possible being silent and not moving so she could hear the conversation in the hallway. They didn’t realize how loud they were. She’d heard one of them say that they needed to track Ryder down. Obviously, if he was still there, he wouldn’t need to be tracked down.
She’d been so excited when she heard that, but it had been over eighteen hours ago. How long did it take to rescue someone? She expected him to be there within an hour or so. Had even gotten some things ready so she could grab her bag and go when he came for her.
But now it had been so long, she started to think she was wrong. That he didn’t really love her, that she misinterpreted everything. Maybe he was far from here, on the road, escaping from Matteo and leaving her behind. Maybe he’d already forgotten all about her. Maybe she was really on her own.
And if that was true, what could she do now? She already knew there was no way she could have Paolo find out about the baby. He’d kill her or the baby or both. But what else was she going to do? Could she really raise this baby alone? She’d thought she could, but she was less sure. It was easy to think she could do anything when she’d thought Ryder was coming for her. But now? Now she thought she was stuck.
How in the world would she raise a baby alone? It was ludicrous for her to think she could do that. Hold down a job while raising a baby? Sure, she had the store and that brought in a lot of money, but she still had to be there to work. And she’d have to take care of this baby. Alone. She’d be the only one getting up for feedings, the only one changing diapers, the only one dealing with the spit up and deciding things like how long to let the baby cry. And she had no idea how long you should let a baby cry. If at all.
And all the emotions that came with pregnancy and motherhood? She’d seen one of her friends go through it. And all her non-pregnant, non-mother friends thought she’d gone nuts. Pia didn’t want to be nuts like that. She already cried over everything and that was too much. But she did not want to get into fights over how much formula was okay to give a baby. That seemed stupid. She wanted to go back to shopping and running her store and pretend like none of this ever happened.
That was when it hit her. If she married Paolo, who was quite rich and powerful, she could have that life—her old life—back. She might have to give up the baby. That would be hard. Impossible almost. But if Ryder was gone, really gone, then what choice did she have? She could be married and safe and rich and go shopping all day and spend her time avoiding her horrible husband. That had to be better than having no husband and being broke and all alone with a baby.
But, if she had Ryder, she wouldn’t have to hate her husband. They might not be rich or have the mafia connections her father or Paolo did, but he loved her. He would treat her well and protect her. And he loved their child already as much as she did. Or at least he had seemed to. But that was before he’d left and not come back. Still, she couldn’t shake the idea of having a happy family. She might not be able to go back to her old life now that she knew what it was like to have love. To have Ryder. He’d ruined her.
How could she lie in bed beside Paolo, let him touch her and have sex with her, when her heart belonged to Ryder? And Paolo was not a good-looking man. That was why she’d rejected him years ago when he wanted to marry her. Of course, then she wasn’t ready to get married, but still. She was not at all attracted to him. So, she’d have money, sure, but she’d have to fake it with someone she didn’t love and was somewhat repulsed by. How could she do that? There was no choice between them. She loved Ryder and their baby so much that she would gladly give up money if it meant being with him and being together as a family.
The tears rolled down her cheeks, silent but continuous. She was only kidding herself thinking she had any choice or say at all in this. Her father was far too powerful. He could make her do whatever he wanted. She knew it, and he knew that she knew it. It was only a matter of time until she caved anyway. She wasn’t strong enough to take on her father. She couldn’t stand up to him. This was why she needed Ryder. He was strong enough for them both. He could take care of her father and keep her far away from Paolo.
But Ryder wasn’t here. And he wasn’t coming. All her strength was missing. She had only herself, and this little baby growing inside her. She felt so weak. In body and in spirit. She had nothing left. If she didn’t have Ryder, which meant she couldn’t have her idea of her dream life, and she couldn’t have this baby, then she had nothing. She might as well marry Paolo. Then she’d have money and status and maybe they’d have a baby of their own. Maybe she would get used to him. Maybe he wasn’t really that bad.
It seemed like that was her best option. Give up her dreams of marrying Ryder and having a family. Give up and do what her father wanted. In the end, he would force her whether she chose it or not. Whether she wanted it or not. Didn’t matter how much she wanted Ryder and the baby. She was doomed to follow her father’s orders. Unless she wanted to die. At this point, even that didn’t seem like a terrible choice.
There was no way out, no good solution. She was trapped and nothing could free her from this situation. She tried to stop thinking, and cried until she fell asleep.
***
She was awoken by her stomach churning. She sat up, waited a moment, then threw back the covers and ran to the bathroom. She had barely made it to the toilet before she was sick. She fell to her knees, heaving into the toilet until her stomach, which hadn’t contained much to begin with, was empty.
She sat there a few minutes, waiting, making sure it had passed. She got up and flushed, then went to the sink. But as she was washing her mouth out, she got a whiff of her lavender-scented hand soap, and it sent her right back to the toilet.
At least this time her stomach was already empty. She dry heaved for a while before her stomach settled. She got up more slowly and went to the sink. She swished some water in her mouth
and brushed her teeth, then crawled back into bed, her throat aching and raw.
Her door opened a short time later. She stayed where she was. She figured it was just one of the guys bringing her breakfast. That she probably wouldn’t eat.
“Pia? What’s wrong with you?”
Her father’s voice. He was here to see her? She pushed back the covers and forced herself into a seated position.
“Morning, Daddy.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I was just sleeping.”
“You just threw up twice. Are you ill?”