by Ashley Jade
I sigh and reach inside my suit jacket.
Then I take out my gun and put it up to his head “The next bullet has your name on it...so I suggest you listen up and listen good...got it?”
He nods, not appearing all that phased by a gun being pointed at him. But then again, it is the South.
“Look, man, I don't want any trouble.”
“Good, because I don't want to cause any...I'm just looking for a waitress who works here on the weekends. She's a tiny brunette with big brown eyes and an even bigger mouth...ring a bell?”
“Sexy spitfire?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“That's what we call her 'round here. She has a strange name that most of us can't even pronounce, so we all just refer to her as sexy spitfire.” He whistles and slaps my shoulder. “I reckon you're the jealous boyfriend. Ooey, you did a good job. What a real beauty that one—”
I dig the gun into his temple. “Yeah, I know...now where is she?”
He scrunches his face. “Well hell if I know. She called in sick for her shift tonight.” He twirls his beard around and thinks for a moment. “Can't even be mad at her...dang girl worked until 7am every night this week alone.”
Momma mutters something under her breath and gasps. “She doesn't have a cell phone, Ricardo.”
Shit.
“Did she sound nervous? Did it sound like she was being forced to make the call?”
He blinks and shrugs. “Not really.” He thinks for another moment and my trigger finger starts itching. “On second thought...she did say something about it being her birthday and someone taking her out for a last minute celebration.”
“Who?”
“A friend...she didn't say a name.”
He shuffles his feet and avoids my eyes...and that's when I know he's lying.
I tilt my gun up to the ceiling and pull the trigger.
“Ouch, dagnabbit!” he shouts at the top of his lungs and the rest of the club goes quiet. “Look, man, I'm not trying to involve myself in your relationship problems.”
“Relationship problems?”
He rubs his beard again. “Let's just say the friend she's out celebrating with has a name...Atticus.”
He waves his hands around wildly. “But that's all I know. She called in sick and said her friend Atticus was taking her out for a last minute birthday celebration. Well that and...” his voice drifts off.
“What?”
“She definitely didn't sound like she was being forced to make the call. Quite the opposite actually, she sounded real happy.”
I pull my gun away, stuffing down the ache in my heart with those words.
“Did you know she was seeing someone?” I ask Momma as we walk out of the club and head for the car.
“She's not,” she says. “She would have told me.”
“Right,” I scoff. “Just like she told you her alias.”
And why she refused to have a cell phone...or why she works at that shithole, using her looks to make a living instead of using my money like she was supposed to.
Because she didn't want me to find her.
Because she hates me.
Because I didn't put her first like I should have.
Because I'm the reason our baby's dead.
I slam my the steering wheel so hard I feel my knuckles crack under the leather.
“We're gonna find her, sugar,” Momma says, and I don't miss the way her voice wobbles. “We have to find her.”
When I don't respond, she adds, “I know it sounds silly but I think we should go back to my house. Whenever I watch those television shows and there's a missing person...they always suggest someone wait at the house in case they end up coming back home.”
She dabs at the tears in her eyes. “Now she might not have let me in on certain things...but she knows...she knows my house is her home.”
And that's when Momma starts sobbing hysterically and my chest constricts. No one will ever love Lou-Lou more than I do...but it doesn't mean I'm the only one who loves her.
Because God knows she deserves to be loved.
I reach for Momma's hand and give it a squeeze, feeling grateful she was there for her when I wasn't and hating how upset she is right now. “You're right, Momma. Good thinking.”
She squeezes my hand back and even though she doesn't say it, I know she knows that me reaching out to touch her is my way of telling her that I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier today.
We stay silent for the rest of the drive, both of us refusing to say what else the other is thinking.
What if we're too late?
I'm pulling into the long driveway leading to Momma's house when I see it.
Beside me, Momma gasps. “What the—”
I hold up my hand. “Quiet.”
I jam on the brakes and shut off the SUVs lights.
We're still a good 100 feet away or so from the truck, but I can faintly make out some kind of movement happening in the dark.
I send a text to my men in the other SUV, instructing them to park behind me and meet me on foot.
Then I turn to Momma and whisper, “Stay here. And no matter what happens...do not get out of the car.”
I have no clue what I'm walking into, but I do know that a strange truck in Momma's driveway definitely isn't a good sign.
I'm about to get out when she reaches for my arm. “Please be careful.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes...this is exactly why members of the mafia don't take their mothers with them when they're out conducting business.
“If you hear gunshots, you get into the driver’s seat and haul ass out of here...understand?”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “Got it?”
I don't wait for her response as I get out of the car and start walking toward the truck.
The light from the full moon illuminates some figure wearing what I'm presuming is a cowboy hat...but I'm still too far away to make out who it is.
And then I take another step...and my entire body burns with red hot anger.
Because it turns out there isn't just one figure...there are two.
And one of them belongs to the girl who happens to be my entire fucking world.
And the other belongs to some asshole who I can only assume must be Atticus because of the way she's currently sighing his name.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my spine turns to ice, and everything that occurs next seems to happen in slow motion because...
All. I. See. Is. Black.
My gun is out when I notice the hand that's splayed across her stomach.
My gun is pointed at him when I hear the sound of a zipper being undone.
My finger is on the trigger when he slips his hand inside her shorts and says, “Maybe if you make this fuck worth my while...I won't do what it is that I was hired to do. I'll keep this hot cunt of yours all for myself and make them both kill each other over it.”
And my heart's in my throat when the glint of a shiny metal object coming out of his pocket catches my eye, and my heart stops beating entirely when I hear her sob my name...
Right before I'm running and emptying the barrel of my gun into his head.
Then screaming her name for dear life as she collapses in my arms.
Chapter 11 (Ricardo)
I lean against the wall and ball my hands into fists as I wait for the mob doctor I hired to get off his laptop and give me some answers.
I keep my gaze solely on her, not wanting to take my focus off her until I know for sure that she'll be alright.
She's still passed out cold on the bed, looking so small and fragile it sends another wave of white hot rage rushing through me.
I was almost too late...I almost lost her.
Hell, I still might depending on what the test results are. She was obviously drugged...that's a given...but god only knows with what and how much.
“A small amount of alcohol, and a large amount of Rohypnol along with some
traces of GHB were found in her system,” the doctor says, turning his attention to me now. “And based on her blood levels, I can only assume the perpetrator was an amateur, because not only did he use a large amount of one drug...he used two drugs in the same class to render the same outcome.”
He follows my gaze to her. “Now this is strictly speculation, but my guess is that based on the minimal amount of alcohol she consumed, he probably didn't think she was reacting fast enough to the first roofie he slipped her and grew impatient..so he decided to give her a dose of GHB along with another roofie, hoping to speed things along. Not taking into consideration that these drugs take a half hour or more to start taking effect.”
“Will she be okay?”
While I appreciate the science and thought out answers he's providing...there's one thing and one thing only that I'm interested in.
He nods. “Yes. She's going to be asleep for awhile...I'd say anywhere from the next 12-24 hours, maybe longer...and she'll be disoriented when she wakes up...but I see no reason she won't fully recover from this after a few days.”
He types something on his laptop. “She's otherwise physically healthy. Although...” his voice trails off and he looks at me again.
“What?”
“She won't remember anything that happened while she was drugged. She might not even remember much before she was drugged either. Therefore, it goes without saying that when she wakes up in a strange place—”
“What about her stab wound?” I grunt, cutting him off, because I didn't hire him to dish out moral advice.
He waves a hand. “It's fine, only required a few stitches.”
He starts gathering his things. “My guess, due to the lack of depth of the wound, is that he only did it because he saw you approaching and was trying to scare you.“
I suppose that explains why he said what he said right before he stabbed her then...he knew exactly who I was and who I was coming for. There's no doubt in my mind that he worked for not only the P.I. team that I hired...but the one her father hired as well. He was obviously going to play us against one another...see which one offered him the better deal in exchange for her.
Scumbag didn't suffer nearly enough.
I walk the doctor to the front door. “Make no mistake about it though, Mr.DeLuca...if you weren't there to stop the attack in the first place, I'm afraid things would have been much worse for her.”
He shakes my hand. “If you need anything else don't hesitate to give me a call. I'll be by in a few days to check on her.”
“Thank you.”
I close the door behind him and enter the code into the new security keypad that I had installed a mere few hours ago.
The one that's designed not only to keep people out...but to keep people in.
Well, one person in particular.
“She's gonna be okay, that's good,” Marlene says cheerfully as I step away from the front door.
“Yeah.” I brush past her but think the better of it. I know Marlene's scared of me, as she should be.
But I also know she has ulterior motives...based on the fact that I offered her one hell of a severance package four months ago and she refused to take it.
In fact—she pretty much begged me to stay.
Of course, I'm not an idiot—I knew Marlene's intentions better than anyone.
And I'd be lying if I said I never returned one of her flirtatious glances back in the day.
The days before Lou-Lou came barreling into my life like hell on heels.
Either way, Marlene's flirting, as well as mine; was always harmless ...because we both knew I wasn't her real target.
I saw the way she used to throw herself at my father...before she found out how evil he really was and it was too late for her to get out alive.
There was no doubt in my mind she was hoping for a better shot with me this time around—a shot I almost gave her one drunken night—before I came to my senses and made it clear that it was never going to happen.
No matter how loyal Marlene keeps claiming she is to me...there's only one woman on earth, or otherwise; that I want and will ever want.
And she's currently passed out in her new bedroom.
And Marlene needs to understand for once and for all that Lou-Lou comes before everything—and if she wants to continue her employment, as well as breathing—it's going to be her responsibility to watch and wait on Lou-Lou hand and foot, twenty-four-fucking-seven—for as long as I say.
Or at least until I contact the council again, make some kind of new deal with them—because I'm sure that's what they really want from me—and kill that piece of shit for good.
Marlene blinks nervously as I inch my way toward her, no doubt due to the sharp weapon I'm holding in my hand.
“W-what did I do?”
Her voice comes out both high pitched and shaky—a quality I like in my victims but not so much in my women.
Her teeth begin chattering when I hold the blade up to her neck and press down. “I'm s-sorry, Ric—” she starts to say before correcting herself. “Mr. DeLuca.”
I watch the small drop of blood drip down her neck and onto her uniform. “Do you remember what we talked about before?”
I grip her ponytail with one hand and flip the knife around in my other hand.
“Yes. You want me to watch after her.” She nods rapidly. “It's no problem at all. I'll take care of her, I p-promise.”
“Do you remember what else we talked about?”
When she hesitates, I slide the dull side of the knife down her sternum and she yelps frantically, “Yes, I'll never tell her that he's still alive. I swear I won't, you have my word.”
I give her a smile and ease my grip on her hair. “Good girl.”
She returns my smile...and that's when I flip the knife back around. “Because if you do?” I drag the knife down her flesh and she gasps. “I'll slice you.” I make another small gash. “Dice you.”
I tug her hair so hard I can feel her scalp throb. “And feed you your own skin right before I turn you into fish food...capisci?”
“I promise I won't,” she cries, sobbing so loud it echos in the large foyer of my mansion.
I take a handkerchief out of my suit pocket and throw it at her. “Glad we got that sorted. Now clean yourself up, I need a few minutes alone with her.”
She takes off in a flash and I walk back into Lou-Lou's bedroom.
I glance at my watch, remembering the doctor said she'd be asleep for the next 12-24 hours—which should give me plenty of time to take care of what I need to.
I sink down to my haunches beside the bed and run my thumb along her cheekbone before moving lower and caressing that plump bottom lip of hers that drives me so fucking crazy.
Christ, I'd almost forgotten how beautiful she is...even when those gorgeous doe eyes are closed.
And like a magnet that can no longer resist the pull of the metal, I need more of her.
I cup her face, lean my forehead against hers, and inhale her cherry-vanilla scent like the alluring drug to my system that it is—knowing that just one hit won't be enough, but no longer caring because of the masochist I am when it comes to anything involving her.
God, I've missed her so damn much.
But not in the way you miss those you care about after not seeing them for a long time.
No, I miss her like one would miss having a vital organ...in a basic, raw, and necessary for survival kind of way.
So I'm allowing myself these few moments with her and cherishing it...because I know I won't have them again.
Not only because I need to keep my distance...but because I have every intention of letting her go free again.
Not to mention, the other glaring fact—she hates me.
And if I'm being honest with myself, there's a small part of me that hates her too.
And no matter how much I love her and would do anything in the world for her...and I mean anything...there will always be that tiny thread of hate that exi
sts between us.
The thread we grab hold of and yank in order to make the other bend to our will...or the one we'll wrap around the others throat and use to kill each other one day.
It's a dangerous game of tug of war...because in the end, neither of us come out the winner.
That's why I have to be the one to control the reins this time...even if it means making her think she's weak so I can be strong enough for the both of us.
And if I have to burn the entire world to the ground in order to watch her rise from the ashes like the phoenix I know she is...I will.
I'll do whatever it takes... lie, cheat, steal, and kill for her.
I'll die a thousand deaths, a thousand different ways...just so she can survive this one lifetime.
I lower my head until I'm hovering just above her stomach. My eyes burn because it brings me back to the night I thought I could save her by getting her pregnant.
Little did I know...she was already carrying our child.
A child neither of us will ever get to meet...because of me.
And there's no mother in the world who could forgive someone for taking that away.
There's no father in the world who could, either.
I brush my lips over her wound. "Il mio piccolo superstite,” I murmur against her soft skin.
I pluck a dandelion from the vase on the nightstand and lay it down next to her. “I'm sorry, Lou-Lou. God, I'm so sorry,” I whisper as I stand up. “And I'll never let anyone hurt you again...including myself.”
I walk out of the room, making sure I don't dare look back...because I can't.
After a few moments, the pain in my chest dissipates and I can't help but smile.
Because the darkness is beckoning me...and I have some assholes to track down and kill.
Chapter 12 (Lou-Lou)
My head is pounding and my vision is so blurry I swear I must be looking into a kaleidoscope.
I close my eyes as another wave of nausea barrels into me and the little troll with a sledgehammer who decided to move into my head at some point starts playing another heavy metal song—using my brain as his set of drums.