Sonofabitch!
I look down at Bella. “Don’t bark, whatever you do,” I hiss.
The derelicts who busted into my car aren’t the least bit scared off by the alarm. They keep ransacking the thing. My E-Z Pass is in there, but I never keep registration or insurance in the glove compartment. I always carry that on me.
The stereo will be torn out, but who gives a damn about that?
I rack my brain for anything incriminating, but nothing registers.
I’m not stupid enough to leave weapons in the car while it’s unattended.
Same thing with cash.
I just hope they leave enough of the car that I can drive it the hell outta here once I get a chance.
I almost cheer when I hear police sirens approach, but I also don’t have time to sit around and file a report. I can handle my car business myself.
If I can get to said car.
I peek around the side of the building again to see if the sounds startled them enough to leave the crime scene. One guy is hard at work on getting my rims off, but jumps away when the sirens get louder.
“Yo, Boom, we gots ta go! I ain’t endin’ up in the clink again for your sloppy ass!”
The one called Boom jumps out from the hood, screaming and cursing at the group of guys who take off running down the street. “You fuckin’ pussies! I almost had the battery!”
“Fuck it!” Another one of them yells over his shoulder. “I ain’t waitin’ to get pinched!”
Boom runs after them, still bitching.
I don’t wait until they’re out of sight, just that they’re far enough away that I can slam the hood closed and jump into the car before the cops show up. I pull open the door and roll my eyes. They demolished the steering column, I guess to try and hotwire it. Must have been a bunch of low-level thugs since they abandoned that plan and went for the battery instead.
Idiots. If they were part of my crew, I’d have kicked their asses for leaving their fingerprints all over everything before leaving the car as evidence.
I’ll worry about that tomorrow.
In the meantime, I turn on the car and stomp on the gas, zooming down the street. I can still hear the sirens, but they sound a little farther away now. Either I made a just-in-time escape, or something else caught their attention.
In this neighborhood, it’s probably the latter.
Forty minutes later, I’m lugging my heaping bag of pet crap in one arm, and Bella in the other, as I jog toward the elevator of my building. I shift the bag to stick my key into the lock, collapsing against the back wall as the doors close.
The bell dings once we reach my floor and I stagger across the hall toward the front door. I twist the key into the lock and practically fall into the foyer, I’m so spent from my ‘errand’.
I drop the bags onto the floor and the open bag of Nudges spills onto the floor.
Bella sure isn’t complaining.
I lean back against the door. I wonder how many of those she should have. I definitely don’t need a stray dog shitting all over the place. But when I asked about that at the supermarket, one of the workers told me to pad train her. I have no idea what the hell that means, and I didn’t really have time to chat with him, so I bought a box of pads he recommended. I’ll guess I’ll just wallpaper the place with them and hope she knows where to go.
My eyes drop to the little black puppy who seems to have way more energy now that she’s eaten half a bag of treats.
She looks up at me and lets out a high-pitched bark. Then she takes off, racing around the room so fast, she becomes a black blur. My eyes can’t track her fast enough, and I see black darting around tables, chairs, couches, and potted plants.
But she never crashes into anything.
A few more high-pitched barks pierce the silence, and Marchella lets out a loud groan as she resurrects from her face-down position on the couch. Slowly, I see her sleep-tousled head rise from the couch cushion, red marks lining the sides of her face where they were pressed against the pillow seams. Her eyes are heavy and a little bloodshot, but when Bella leaps onto the couch next to her and attacks her with her tongue…fucking gross, by the way…she gasps and an expression of pure joy settles into her features.
Only, I’m used to the look of disdain and disgust, so this is new.
And much nicer.
If I have to keep a hostage, I’d like her to be at least somewhat agreeable.
She grabs Bella and holds her up, squealing with excitement. Bella obviously feels it, too, because she lets out another bark.
Marchella looks over to me, a bright smile on her face. “I can’t believe you did this. How did you…oh my God, where did you even find her?”
I shrug. “It’s like I said before. You didn’t do anything to deserve this, Marchella. You shouldn’t be the one to suffer. And this dog obviously meant something to you. So I went back to Inwood.”
“You went to Inwood,” she repeats to herself, almost disbelievingly. “At this hour? And you found her.” Marchella shakes her head, whispering. “I figured she’d be gone forever…”
“It doesn’t matter.” I point to the bags on the floor. “I got you stuff you’ll need for her. I think your first stop should be the bath, though. She fucking stinks.”
With eyes that shine a whole lot brighter than they did when I left her a few hours ago, she holds the puppy in the air and spins her around, talking to her in a baby voice. Marchella doesn’t seem to mind the smell either.
I fold my arms over my chest. “So I guess you’re a dog person.”
She lifts an eyebrow at me. “And just like that, we get personal? This isn’t a sweet reunion, Roman.”
“I was just trying to make conversation. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Hell, we don’t need to speak for the next week. But don’t mistake my questions for congeniality. I’m not looking for a friend here. I’m looking for my product. And you being here is gonna get it for me.”
“Wow, you’re a real charmer. I guess some things never change,” she says sarcastically, continuing to dance around with the dog. “You must need a stick to fight off all the ladies, huh?”
I push myself off the wall, my stomach grumbling. “Like I said before, this ain’t social, Marchella.”
“You know, it would be a lot easier for me to figure out how to deal with you if you weren’t so inconsistent.”
I pad into the kitchen, swallowing a yawn as I pull open the refrigerator.
Almost completely empty.
Dante.
I slam it closed and turn to look at Marchella. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She nestles the puppy against her shoulder and walks toward me. “Well, let’s see. You purposely avoid telling me who you are, then you stalk me, kiss me like I’ve never been kissed in my life, drug me, and kidnap me. Then you have my brother beaten to a pulp, threaten us both with extreme torture before death.”
The corners of my lips curl upward and I let out a chuckle. “Like you’ve never been kissed by in your life, huh?”
She rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “That would be what you caught. I should have known,” she mutters.
“No, no, keep going. I wanna hear the rest. Don’t leave me hanging.”
“You basically hired me so I’ll go with you to that event, in essence paying me to sit tight so that my brother stays on task to get your money back. Then you rescued this puppy because you knew she meant something to me.” She shakes her head. “Completely inconsistent.”
“Well, I’m not a total dickhead, much as you’d like to believe otherwise,” I say. “Besides, it gets cold at night. The puppy should be inside. Christ only knows what she sees, or just barely escapes, when she’s creeping around Inwood at night.”
Marchella narrows her eyes, the blue much darker than it was only a few minutes ago. More turbulent, like a violent wave that’s about to consume everything in its path. “I came here hating you with
every fiber of my being.”
“And so what now? Did I score any points?” I flash a half-smirk.
“Not enough to make a difference,” Marchella snips. “I just wanted to point out that your behavior for a mafia thug is bizarre as hell.”
“So I basically risked my life going into your neighborhood for nothing? Not even a fucking ‘thank-you’?”
She recoils, her eyes now wide. I guess the thought didn’t occur to her. Then her expression is eclipsed by the pent-up anger at her situation. “Let me tell you something, Roman. If you want me to kiss your ass because you did a couple of somewhat decent things after shooting me up with a drug that could have killed me, as well as making me your captive for the foreseeable future, you’re crazier than I thought!”
I grit my teeth, my hands balled into fists at my sides. Of course, she’s right. I did some pretty shitty things today, like stealing her freedom. Did I really think that finding the puppy would make her forget that I’m a vicious and somewhat unhinged killer who slapped a target on her beloved brother’s back?
Still, a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt. I did risk my life and my car.
That’s the heated side of me, the irrational side that tries to justify all of the bad.
The side that doesn’t give a damn about anything but being close to her.
I stomp across the room, my jaw tight as the puppy jumps out of her arms. She gasps as I put my hands on her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh. The puppy stares up at us as if she knew to get the hell outta dodge, then trots into the kitchen.
Electricity crackles between us, my insides sizzling at her nearness. “I don’t normally give a damn about people’s feelings,” I growl, tightening my grip on her. “People serve a purpose to me. They’re a means to an end. Period.”
“Why are you telling me that?” she says, her teeth clenched. “Do you think I’m some kind of an idiot? I know how your world works. I know you only care about your money. And I know you made this grand gesture to get on my good side so I don’t mess up your event by telling everyone what you’ve done to me, my brother, and our lives. You’re using me. Manipulating me!” She struggles against my grip, her sinful body rubbing against me in the process. It makes my blood boil, except it’s desire, not anger, coursing through me.
My pulse throbs against my neck as we glare at each other, death wishes co-mingling with a hunger that proves we share the same inner conflict.
The longing infused with hatred.
The craving that battles the disdain.
Our lips are so close together that I can almost graze hers with my tongue.
The all-consuming lust blinds me, clouding my judgment and my objective.
“I’m doing what I need to preserve my organization,” I hiss. “You’re only alive right now because of what you can do for me. And you’ll go to the event as my date because I’m paying you to. But, like your brother, if you decide to fuck around, you’ll suffer the same fate as him. So don’t test me, Marchella.” I force out the words because I need to do something to show her I’m not some pathetic excuse for a leader. It’s the only way I can preserve my place, and I need to remember said place unless this whole plan goes up in smoke.
I can’t let myself be distracted by her gorgeousness, her smart mouth, or her fiery will.
All of those roads most definitely lead to hell.
Her eyes widen for a split second and she takes in a sharp breath.
Yeah, I surprised myself with that little speech, too.
It may fuel her hatred but it’ll keep me in control.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she whispers.
“I know,” I snarl. “Always remember that. You’ll survive longer.”
Chapter Twelve
Marchella
His blue eyes glitter with the threat of danger, but instead of making my gut clench, his gaze makes me tingle in places that have no business being awakened by this sick lust coursing through me.
How can his egocentric words actually turn me on?
He has a bounty on my brother and complete control over me as a result.
He shot me, for fuck’s sake!
I want to punch him so badly. To land a right hook against his beautiful, stubbled jaw, shattering it like he did my life!
But most distressing is that despite everything he’s done and said, I still want to feel his lips on me, to have his devious tongue tussle with mine, to drink in his villainousness because for all of the hatred he generates, my pent-up desire trumps it all.
And the flickering embers in my belly roar to life as his eyes drink me in, telling me in no uncertain terms that he feels the exact same way.
Just like I always believed he did.
But screw him if he thinks I’m going to do anything about it.
“Ooh,” I say in a mock scared voice. “I’m so scared.” I shove my good shoulder against his thick, muscled chest and of course, it doesn’t do a damn thing. He stays rooted to his spot and presses his fingers deeper into my flesh.
My heart thumps, blood rushing between my ears as the overwhelming urge to kiss him grabs hold of me. The line between lust and disgust…my God, it’s almost invisible right about now.
“Don’t make me prove it to you,” he grunts. “Because I will, and you won’t want me to stop once I get started.”
I gasp. “You’re sick!”
“It’s the only way to thrive in this world, sweetheart,” he says, letting me go with a smirk playing on his lips.
Aarf!
I peek around him where Bella is standing next to his sneakers, not bothering to bite back the grin that spreads across my lips when I see the puddle next to his kicks. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that there’s more to it than that. Like dry shoes.”
He furrows his brow and follows my amused glance to where Bella created her own indoor facilities.
“Fuck!” he groans. “That’s my favorite pair, for Christ’s sake!”
“I guess she didn’t like the way you were talking to me,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “Girl power or whatever.”
He narrows his eyes at me and I flash a bright smile in return.
“I guess your gesture of goodwill kind of backfired.”
We stand there, staring each other down, like a battle of the wills. There’s a man inside of this brutish, menacing jackass, one who is fighting against his rough exterior. The years may have been kind to his appearance, but they’ve created a monster façade. That’s why I didn’t recognize him at the restaurant and at the park. I don’t know this menace that he’s become. I believe that the real Roman is still trapped inside. I can see it more clearly now…not only in his eyes, but in the little things, like going out to find Bella. But the guy on the outside can’t let him out for too long, not in the mafia world, or else things might spiral out of control.
And I know that guy on the outside well.
He’s my father.
It’s true, Papa and I never had the kind of tight-knit relationship he has with Frankie, and that’s in large part because I resisted his ‘job’. I had no desire to be anywhere near his work, and our relationship grew more and more strained over time because of it. But I saw how he’d let his true self shine through for my mother. There was a softness, a deep love, an open heart reserved just for her. It didn’t happen often because heaven forbid, the big, bad mob enforcer showed the world that he could be a sensitive guy.
Roman has definite shades of my father, which makes me equally drawn to him and fed up with him. On one hand, I want to scream at him and unleash the rage he’s caused to knot deep inside of me. And on the other hand, I want to fling myself into his arms and feel them wrapped around me again.
It’s the quintessential push and pull.
Roman breaks away from my gaze and stomps into the kitchen for a roll of paper towels and a bottle of spray cleaner. He’s back a second later, muttering a string of colorful expletives in Italian.
I bend down to hel
p him, reaching out for the spray bottle as he’s about to grab it again. It’s just a brush of our fingers, but my God, the shock that zaps my insides makes me visibly shudder.
He turns his ice-blue eyes toward me, and I can see a flicker of surprise in the depths, as if he felt the same thing and has no idea how to process it. Well, yeah! I am his captive, so there are parameters.
I guess…?
I’ve never been kidnapped before, so I’m not super familiar with the protocols. But I am pretty certain that lusting for your captive is bad.
So is lusting for your captor.
Yikes.
I bite down on my lower lip, tearing my gaze away from his. My pulse thumps against my throat as I spray, spray, spray…anything to keep my focus off of Roman.
Because regardless of what lies beneath the surface, he’s still a fucking animal.
And I’m his prey.
I mop up the cleaner with paper towels and scramble to my feet before I get too close to him again. He’s still lamenting his sneakers, so I use that as an opportunity to dash into the kitchen and get my head screwed on straight.
This man had Frankie beaten to a pulp! How can I have any feelings other than nausea for him?
I clutch the sides of the counter, my stomach clenching as Bella rubs up against my leg.
An exasperated sigh makes my throat tighten, and I can’t figure out if it’s due to Bella’s accident, or my rapid disappearance.
How sick is it that I’m hoping for the latter?
“You must be starving,” he says.
I nod, continuing to stare at the floor because I’m petrified he’s going to mistake my admission to hunger for…well, hunger.
“There’s nothing in the fridge. Dante ate pretty much everything,” he grunts.
“Let me take a look.” I push past him and pull open the refrigerator door. “You have plenty of stuff in here,” I exclaim, rifling through the shelves and drawers. “Eggs, English muffins, bacon, cheese…I mean, as long as none of it is expired, we can have breakfast for dinner?”
He smirks. “So you’re gonna cook for your kidnapper?”
“Well, you’re paying me, right?” I turn around, my eyebrow lifted. “But I have one condition.”
Savage Beast: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinfully Savage) Page 13