Her Protection: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 2)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  I used the cracked mirror to find the source of the bleeding and attempted to mop up my face. A purple bruise was forming under my right eye. I would have to put some ice on that when I got home. The manager at the garage was fine with my after-work gig, but my appearance made me look somewhat shady. He instructed me to stay in the back and work on the cars; interacting with the customers was off limits. That was fine with me, though. I was rarely in the mood to interact with anyone.

  Once I stopped the bleeding, I rinsed off with the small length of hose, watching the pink-tinged water slide onto the concrete floor and into the drain. I dried off with a musty towel and put on my street clothes. Stuffing the envelope of my prize money into my back pocket, I made my way out of the building through the back entrance.

  My apartment wasn’t far from the ring, so I walked through the back alley toward the street. Being alone in the dark didn’t necessarily scare me, but I was always on high alert, waiting for someone to jump out of the cracks.

  “Congratulations on your win,” a voice said from the darkness. I raised my fists in response, ready to swing.

  In the faint light from the streetlamps, I saw the figure of a tall, slender woman with dark, curly hair. As far as I could tell, she was alone. I walked toward her, not seeing any immediate threat.

  “You were at the fight?” I asked, trying to get a better look at her. She looked out of place. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, she looked like she was in costume, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Her eyes were lined thick with makeup and her long hair was teased up like a mob boss’s wife.

  Given our current location, I would have assumed that she was a junkie or even a prostitute, but she didn’t have the clear markings of one. She was slim but in an athletic way. She wasn’t rail thin and covered in bruises and scabs. This woman probably ate three good meals a day, exercised regularly, and had a good night’s sleep. She looked too healthy to be looking to score.

  “I don’t normally go to those kinds of things,” she said, slinking toward me, “but I wanted to try something new. You were incredible.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I said, not exactly sure why she sought me out in the first place. “You know, this isn’t a very good neighborhood. You shouldn’t be walking around alone like this.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said. “I just thought you were fascinating and I wouldn’t let myself live it down if I didn’t have a chance to meet you.”

  “Meet me? Believe me, I’m nobody.”

  “You aren’t though,” she purred. “You’re quite powerful, aren’t you? I saw your body and you look amazing in nothing but those shorts. I bet you look even better without them.”

  She came closer and ran her hand down from my shoulder to my elbow, gently squeezing my bicep.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I would love to get to know you. Can we get a drink, or do you have somewhere to be?”

  Now her body was lightly pressed up against mine. I could feel her warm breath on the front of my neck when she spoke, and her breasts rubbed up against my torso.

  This woman was gorgeous and under any other circumstance, I would have taken her up on her offer, but I didn’t trust her. Something just didn’t add up. Clean cut girls didn’t approach strangers in dark alleys in bad neighborhoods with all the confidence in the world.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked firmly.

  “I want you to come back to my place,” she said. “I want to feel your rock-hard body against mine.”

  I shook any feelings of arousal out of my head. I wasn’t about to fall for her tricks. This all seemed so unnatural. I had to put a stop to it.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m just not interested. I have to go home now.”

  She stood in my path, her face stony.

  “You really shouldn’t be here,” I said again. “I don’t know what game you think this is, but I’m not playing.”

  “Oh, but you are,” she cooed into my ear.

  She reached into her purse and pressed the cool metal of her handgun to my temple in one fluid motion. The feeling was all too familiar. I froze in my tracks. I could certainly overpower her if it came down to it, but I knew better than to fight someone like that, especially when I was unarmed.

  “I have three hundred dollars in my back pocket,” I said calmly. “I will give it to you if you put the gun away. We can both walk away from this.”

  “I don’t want your money,” she said.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “You have something much more valuable to me,” she whispered, sending a shiver straight down my spine. “If you would just listen to what I must tell you, I think a little chat could benefit the both of us.”

  At this rate, I didn’t have any choice but to listen to the woman. As long as she had the gun pointed at me, I was helpless. I relaxed my tense body and slowly lowered myself onto the nearest doorstep.

  “Fine,” I relented. “Let’s talk.”

  I Like Danger

  Jane

  As Bryce sat down, I thought about joining him but felt I had more control standing above him. That way, if he tried to overpower me, I had time to react. I remembered my military training in these moments. Preparing for an attack and knowing my enemy’s plans came second nature to me.

  “Now,” he said, resting on the concrete slab, “what is it that you want to talk about?”

  “I haven’t been honest with you, Bryce,” I said. “And I’m sorry about the phony seduction act. You’re a handsome man, but I’m not interested in bringing you home with me. Not for the reason, you think, anyway.”

  “What other reason is there? Are you a cop or something?”

  “My name is Jane Madison. I’m a reporter following up on a story I worked on about five years ago.”

  “What story?” he grunted. “I never talked to a reporter.”

  “Do you know a man by the name of Tommy Tilucci?

  He flinched at the sound of his name. This was my guy. A small rush of adrenaline went through my body. I focused on taking slow, even breaths and speaking slowly and clearly. I had to stay in control despite my excitement.

  Bryce stayed silent. I repeated the question in my calm voice.

  “Yes,” he said, nearly whispering.

  “Do you know that Mr. Tilucci has an appeal coming up? There’s a good chance he’ll win the appeal and get released.”

  His eyes opened wider. “No,” he breathed.

  “I’m afraid so. I don’t know if you realize this, but I was the journalist that exposed Tilucci for what he really is. I know just about everything there is to know about the man. Still, there was one little detail from the trial that I never understood. It was stricken from the record, but there is a mention of an accomplice by the name of Bryce. Does this ring any bells for you, Mr. Baron.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “See, I’m afraid that you do. Tommy Tilucci is a nasty man. I understand if you don’t want to talk about him. He probably forced you to commit horrible crimes against decent people. Maybe you enjoyed it, I don’t know.”

  He shook his head violently.

  “So, what was it that he had you doing? Hitman, I suppose?”

  “Never,” he said definitely. “I have never killed a man in my entire life.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I said. “What was your job, Bryce? You can talk to me. I’m a reporter, not the police. Keeping sources secret is part of being a good journalist. I don’t want to take you down. I just want to know about everything Tilucci is capable of once he’s released.”

  He fidgeted for a moment before speaking. “I was never a hitman. I was more of an enforcer.”

  I suppressed a smile. We were getting somewhere. “What does that job entail?”

  “He used guys like us to intimidate people. People who don’t pay their bets on time. People who don’t do their jobs. We’d rough them up but never kill them. That wasn’t for
me. You can’t tell anyone about this, either.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Can you put that gun away? You’re making me nervous.”

  I didn’t even realize that I was still holding it near him. I had gotten so lost in the moment that I hardly felt the gun as anything but an extension of my own body. I tucked the gun into the pocket of my purse. I didn’t like putting it away, especially when I didn’t know if I could trust Bryce, but I knew that I could draw it at a second’s notice.

  “Better?” I asked.

  He nodded. “So, do you really think that Tilucci’s getting out?”

  “Almost certainly,” I said wearily. “The judge he’s got is a real slime ball. Will that be a problem for you if he gets out?”

  “I don’t know, but I also don’t want to find out. I don’t want to work for him again. I never wanted to in the first place.”

  “Then how does a guy like you get caught up in his business scheme without volunteering? Did you piss him off?”

  “You could say that. Back when I started fighting, he approached me before a match. He told me that if I threw the match and lost, he would give me a couple hundred dollars. The guy I was going up against was smaller than me, and didn’t look like he would win.”

  “And did you throw the match?”

  He shook his head. “Looking back, I absolutely would have. None of this was worth the win. The prize money was the same amount, and I figured that the win would help me move up. I beat the guy easily. Then Tilucci’s guys beat me after the match.”

  “They beat you up?”

  “Nearly killed me. I think I had five or six broken bones. Once I healed up, I was on the payroll. I didn’t have a choice, though, did I? Tilucci paid me well for my trouble. I can’t help but think that this all would be different if I would have known who he was the night of that fight. He ruined my life.”

  “Are you saying that you feel strongly motivated to do whatever you need to do to keep him in prison?”

  He screwed up his face. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. The only thing I’m going to do is keep my head down. I’m not about to upset the man. That’s a good way to have your life destroyed.”

  “Killed, you mean?”

  He looked me straight into the eyes. His piercing green eyes were unblinking. “There are some things that are worse than death, you know.”

  I nodded. I could understand that sentiment. I thought about asking follow-up questions about that statement but ultimately decided against it. There were some things that didn’t need to be discussed.

  “I’m going to work on this story whether you help me or not,” I said. “It would make my job a lot easier if you helped me with it. You’re the only person I’ve talked to that doesn’t feel some sort of allegiance to the boss. I need a source that isn’t going to rat me out.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said. “I’ve already lost so much by his hand. I can’t bear to lose anything else.”

  His voice was steady but his eyes pleaded with me. I had to look away toward the ground. I was starting to feel uneasy.

  “Even if it means that I help put him away for good? I have enough dirt on him. All I need is some more evidence that will hold up in court. You would never have to worry about him ever again.”

  “Can I just think it over for a few days?” he asked. “It’s all so hypothetical right now. I mean, he’s not even out of prison yet. The trial hasn’t even started. He still has eyes and ears around the city. There are people still working for him, even though he’s locked up. If I help you, I’m in danger, regardless of where Tilucci is.”

  “Sure,” I said, “give it a few days. Just think of the good you’ll do if you have some part in keeping him away from the world permanently.”

  “I’ve got to worry about my safety,” he said.

  “I get that,” I replied. “Who do you think he’s going to come after first if he gets out? I’m pretty much the whole reason he’s there in the first place.”

  He grimaced. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. I was in grave danger.

  “Can I have your phone number?” I asked. “For the story,” I added quickly, after hearing how it sounded.

  “I suppose,” he said, getting up from his perch on the step. He recited the digits and I quickly called him. His phone buzzed twice and I ended the call.

  “Now you have my number, too,” I said cheerfully. I didn’t mention the fact that I wanted to ensure that he wasn’t giving me a fake number. “I should go,” I said, taking a step back. “It’s pretty late.”

  “Let me walk with you,” he said. “At least for a little way. You shouldn’t be walking alone around here, especially because of your connection to Tilucci.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. I was confident that I would manage to get home just fine on my own, but his presence helped calm my nerves.

  “Do you always try to molest the guys you’re interviewing?” he asked as we walked down the dimly lit street.

  “What?” I squealed. He had been so soft spoken up to this point. The question took me aback.

  “When you wanted to ask me questions about my former boss,” he said. “You pushed your body up against mine and asked me to come home with you. Do they teach you those techniques in journalism school?”

  I laughed. “No. I thought I’d give it a shot. I didn’t know what kind of guy you were. Obviously, that technique doesn’t work.”

  For the first time since I met him, he cracked a small smile. “I’m not sure it wouldn’t work on anyone. I just happened to see through your ploy this one time. Try it after I’ve had a few drinks, maybe it would have been a different story.”

  I blushed. I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. His face was bruised and cut up, but underneath that were strong features. He had a strong jaw with sharp cheekbones. His bright green eyes were accented by long lashes. His chestnut hair was cut short and he was constantly running his fingers through it.

  He had a body that matched his face, too. As a fighter, he had developed a strong core and muscular arms. He was trim, but not skinny. I knew my fair share of meatheads in the army, and he certainly wasn’t one of those either. Bryce Baron was exceedingly handsome. As someone who hadn’t dated in a few years, I couldn’t help but notice every small physical feature.

  I would have to admire this one from afar, though. I was working and he was my most valued source. It would go against my journalistic integrity to even look at him for too long. I had already crossed a line to talk to him, though I could justify that as a necessary trick. No, I couldn’t get distracted, no matter how perfect his face was.

  Of course, I would find the battered young man attractive. There were so many nice, clean cut guys at the office who would be perfect gentlemen. They would treat me well and give me the relationship I deserved. As much as my rational self knew that I should date that type, my heart would not hear of it. Despite my best efforts, I always pined after the damaged boys. The more messed up, the better.

  My fascination with danger would inevitably come back to bite me in the ass one day very soon. I wasn’t stupid; I just had a low threshold for excitement. I needed the most extreme scenarios to keep me entertained. I would never be satisfied living a vanilla life. One day, I’d visit a therapist and we’d discuss it all then. For now, I would just follow my gut and hope for the best.

  “I think I can handle it from here,” I said, once we reached the main road. “Do you live around here?” I asked.

  “No,” he shook his head. “I live near the old factory.”

  “You walked for twenty minutes with me, completely out of your way, when you could have been home in less than ten?”

  He shrugged. “It’s no problem.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  I suddenly felt a tremendous amount of gratitude. For someone who I initially pegged as a murderer, he was surprisingly kind.


  “If there’s anything you want to tell me, feel free to call me at any hour,” I said.

  He nodded. “Same with you. If you get any more information about Tilucci, I’d like to have a head’s up.”

  “Of course. We’ll make plans later to meet up. That will give us both some time to think about what we want to discuss. I’ll call you to follow up soon.”

  “Goodnight,” he said, giving a quick nod.

  “Goodnight.”

  I walked beneath streetlights for the rest of my journey home. I had a warm feeling in my gut. The night couldn’t have gone any better. I had been dreaming about meeting Bryce for years, and now that I had met him, I knew that I had good reason to keep him in mind. He was the key that I needed to open the door to the rest of the Tilucci saga. I could begin the next chapter of my career.

  Her Future

  Bryce

  The morning after my fight, I woke up to a swollen eye. I rolled out of bed and blindly walked to the freezer to find something to put on my injury. I hadn’t been grocery shopping in weeks, so the best I could do was hold an old frozen burrito across my face.

  I wasn’t scheduled to go to the garage until two, so I crashed on the couch with a bowl of cereal. I flipped through TV channels for a few seconds before tossing the remote to the side. I didn’t really care what I watched because I could hardly see anything with my puffy eye.

  I thought about calling Jane to make sure she got home okay, but I didn’t feel like talking. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to help her with her story. I had too much at stake.

  Still, I wondered if talking to Jane would make my problem go away for good. Tilucci getting out of jail would make my life a lot harder. If he wanted me to work for him again, I would have no choice. I hated the bastard, but he had full control of my life.

  After the swelling went down enough so that I could see again, I popped the thawed burrito in the microwave and sat down at my computer. Logging onto my online banking, a sense of dread filled me. I had planned on making a sizeable deposit into a savings account, but once I paid the bills and went grocery shopping, there wasn’t much left.