Trigger (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  I step out into the Brooklyn heat and look left, not seeing Dante; I gaze right and see him standing by his car, a different one from last night. He’s standing with the door open for me already, casually leaned against it, waiting. I remain mute, rushing to him to get inside the Porsche Panamera, sliding onto the black leather seat. The door slams beside me and I place my bag on my leg. By the time Dante gets in, I have my belt on and my eyes still trained on the bag.

  The entire drive, I keep thinking about the file in my bag. So much so, I never cared to watch where he drove. I just let him take me wherever because all I care about is the damn folder burning a hole in my bag.

  “Leave your things in the car. You won’t need them.” He waits for me to respond and laughs as I look up from the bag between my legs. “I know whatever he gave you is a huge piece of your puzzle, but it’s not going anywhere.” He gazes at me for a few seconds before he leans forward in his seat. “I need to know you’re going to have your head on straight before we go in there.”

  I look back at the bag and then away from the file poking out of my bag and out of the windshield. I cast a gaze upon the new building he’s brought me to and I sigh. I have to separate my life once more and remind myself that what’s in the file isn’t part of what I’m doing here.

  “Can I trust you’ll be objective?”

  “I’ll be everything you want me to be,” I say, and before he can say anything else, I reach for the door handle. “Let’s go,” I order, unable to stand being trapped inside his car any longer. The fresh air is therapeutic as my lungs finally capture a perfect breath. I take a moment to gaze up at the house before us; it’s stately, well kept, and simple. “What is this place?”

  “Nothing special,” Dante replies blandly, again being evasive. “It’s just an old family home. We use it to hang out in between jobs.”

  I feel the palm of his hand come to push at the small of my back, ushering me forward. I obey, allowing him to lead me to the front door. The two men guarding it step aside the moment they see Dante. They don’t even take a second glance at me, and I feel Dante’s words ring true again – I have to play being his girl in here.

  As we walk in, the house is full of voices, mainly chortles, swearing, and debates. It’s a livewire of activity, and I don’t know where to look or where to go so I follow Dante’s lead.

  “Don’t leave my side,” he whispers across his shoulder to me. “These men are my men, but they’re greedy fuckers. I don’t want any of them having dibs on you when I haven’t fully claimed you as mine.”

  “And what happens when you have claimed me?” I dare to ask, my words feather light.

  “No man will ever feel the same,” he warns, his hand moving to cup my waist as he stands beside me. “Once I’m done, no man will ever match what it is I do to you, what I make you feel.”

  “Likewise,” I purr to him, grinning wickedly. “No woman will leave the same impression as I do.”

  I see he wants to argue, but I know Dante; the fact that I have an answer to his every whim turns him on. He likes that I backtalk, that I rile him, that I don’t let him have the final say. Instead, he chuckles – his only agreement – and takes me by the hand to lead me to the back of the house. Once there, I freeze dead in my spot. Watching from across the room, I see a man who had only grazed my nightmares.

  “Ryleigh?” Dante asks, noticing how I’ve stilled. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I quickly utter, shaking away the shock. “Sorry, just a little overwhelmed.”

  “Well, you need to get used to it because while you’re at my side, my men are yours.” He laughs as I gasp. “I want to watch you bend and break, little wolf, but I’ll do so with you by my side. That means you will be treated fairly, protected how I see fit, and by my side regardless.”

  I turn, grinning up at him as I fix the lapels of his jacket. “You’re so sure it’ll be me breaking, Dante Valentino. You’ll see that everything we spoke about on our first meeting... all the assumptions you made of me... will all be wrong.”

  “I don’t doubt they are,” he confesses, his tone low. “It’s what’s making this all that more exhilarating. I thought I had you worked out, but you’re making this far more fun than I had ever anticipated.” His eyes watch me, waiting for a reaction; he seems pleased when I don’t have one. “Now, shall we?” he asks putting his hand out. “I have some men I want you to meet.”

  We walk further in, and all eyes fall on me – the lone female. Dante doesn’t seem to care as he keeps me close, acting as if I’m precious cargo. But I know a greedy man when I see one, and Dante Valentino has been that from the very first moment we met. We stop by a man sitting alone; he’s instantly on his feet, shaking hands and hugging Dante.

  “This is Barney,” he introduces me to a tall, bald man. “He’s what I call the repo guy.”

  “And I’m guessing this is the girl Amelia won’t shut up about?” Barney retorts, narrowing his eyes at me. “She’s never met a woman able to match up with her. They usually run away.”

  “Yeah, she showed me we won’t be fast best friends,” I remark sarcastically, blushing some. “I’m Ryleigh.”

  Barney chortles, shaking his head at me. “Oh, sweet thing, we all know who you are. There ain’t no need for introduction.”

  “News travels fast,” Dante comments, his tone scolding. “You’re quite a highlight among my men.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman willing to commit to a man like me. You’re a rarity, Ryleigh. Most women shy away from what it is we do. They don’t care to know, but you’ve given yourself wholly.” He smirks; he clearly likes the fact that he can say that. After all, I’m pretty much his fucking protégée. But as quick as the pride hits, he’s back to talking business with Barney. “Now tell me that Marcello is none the wiser? Once he knows, he’ll sink his teeth into her.”

  Barney laughs again. “Nah, no one outside of us all here knows, aside from Jackson, but he’s a bit sore over the situation. No idea why. Last I heard, she was just one of the whores from the club.”

  I bristle at the sound of that name; again, the same brush tars and brands me. It doesn’t matter what I do with my life, what path I choose, opting to work in that club will always foreshadow everything. Why Dante would ever want to be stuck with me by his side is beyond me. Pain suddenly heats across my left ass cheek, the sting not relenting very quickly.

  “She’s got a nice tight ass like the rest of them, too.” I hear a voice and my blood boils. “Bet she’d go rounds on all of us if we paid her a pretty dollar.”

  I turn, faced with the man who stopped my movements earlier. Instantly, the stench of stale cigarettes overwhelms me, the smell well set into his clothes. His red hair is fading into a darker, grayer hue and his face looks worn down and rugged. But it’s his eyes that cause my nerves to quake; they’re dark and emotionless.

  “She’s a real pretty little thing,” he comments, incensing me further. “I can’t wait for a test drive,” he mutters, rubbing his hands together.

  I feel my hand twitch beside me, my fingers preparing to curl up. I’ll show him what this pretty little thing can do. I don’t get my chance to attack, though; instead, Dante rushes past me, raining down punches onto the guy’s face. There’s a grunt, and I hear skin smacking into skin. I see blood splatter and the pair fall to the ground. Dante does nothing to relent on his assault.

  I feel vulnerable here. I watch Dante fight for me, but he’s so preoccupied with the man before him, I’m left in the company of strangers, of killers, of men who’d do anything to have me.

  Finally, he begins to relent. He heaves ragged breaths, each exhale angrier than the last.

  “You should never touch what isn’t yours, Shawn. You never touch what is mine! Has no one ever told you that?” he asks, picking Shawn up by his collar. “What have I always told you about your behavior, Gordinksy?” Dante bellows, shaking the man. “I’ve told you to wait to be spok
en to! I’ve told you that you are a fucking subordinate a few short straws away from being tossed into the East River and forgotten about. You know exactly what that whore is to me. You know she is mine.” He lifts himself off Shawn and stands up. “I am fucking done babysitting cunts like you!”

  “What do you mean?” Shawn asks, quickly scrambling to his feet.

  “You’ll see,” I hear Dante mock. I’m still watching Shawn; I don’t take any note of Dante’s movements. “Ryleigh,” Dante suddenly breaks into my reverie, a voice so sleek with intent. He’s rolling his switchblade around in his palm, the light glinting off the flat edge at every turn. I didn’t even see him pull it from his pocket. “I have the perfect job for you...”

  I don’t allow him the chance to continue.

  “Give me the knife,” I reply, putting a hand out. The words roll off my tongue, dripping with a sweet honey. I gaze up and face him; I lick my lips with anticipation and shake my hand. “Don’t look at me like that, asshole. Hand me the fucking knife.”

  Suddenly, the surprise melts from Dante’s face, and he starts to grin over his shoulder at me. He turns on the spot to face me, his smile only ever growing with every step he takes to come closer. I don’t know if he feels it, but my body buzzes with electricity. Anticipation is causing a fever pitch across me, consuming me deliciously. I don’t know what possessed me, but now that I’ve said it, I want to follow through. I want to leave my first mark on Dante, on his men, on this bastard who stands before.

  I want to prove to them all how I am more than just a whore.

  “Little wolf...” Dante starts, using a tone so muffled with caution I find it hilarious how he’s suddenly questioning me. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  He may have just offered me the job, but my willingness seems to have shocked him.

  “Just give me the knife and I’ll show you exactly what sort of whore you’ve brought with you,” I retort, putting my hand out further, wiggling my fingers greedily. The insulting nickname isn’t lost on him, and I see the apologetic look he garners, but it’s quickly swathed with the wickedness we share. “...because this whore is one who doesn’t give a fuck for men like him.”

  “He’s all yours,” Dante comments, turning the knife so the handle is facing out for me to take. “Do whatever you want, little wolf.”

  I smile, grasping the blade. Immediately, I test the weight in my hand, getting used to the potency it beholds and what damage I could essentially do with it. As I take a new step toward Shawn, his bloodied face watches as I move the knife. Held in one hand, I press my finger of the other against the tip.

  Derek didn’t know how close I was to the truth, but fate made this so, and I’m going to go with it.

  “Do you not remember me?” I ask him, stopping right in front of him.

  He chuckles, looking me over like a piece of meat. Even with his face swelling and blood pouring, Shawn watches me as if he’s about to get lucky.

  “Nah, doll, I’d remember a pretty little piece of ass like you any day.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” I comment, keeping my tone sweet. I look over my shoulder, finding Dante watching me with fierce concentration, his arms crossed over his chest and one hand resting on his chin. I turn back, taking in Shawn’s face entirely, giving him complete eye contact. “See, I remember you so, so well. I get told I look like my mother.”

  And that’s when he finally looks at me properly. I may have been only four when he had a hand in shaping my future, but I remember the faces of those men who did the unthinkable. I remember every cut, every vicious torment, every struggled breath I managed in order to stay alive. I may not remember names, but I remember enough. I also remember that I look just like my mother. It’s now that he sees it.

  “You’re not going to do anything,” he says, laughing with a little hysteria making it into his voice. “You don’t have it in you.”

  I don’t have to do it, he says, but I will.

  I stab him once for my father, the second time for my mother, and third for my brother. For good measure, I stab him again and twist the knife in his gut. I hear him choke on an unraveling ribbon of pain, and I twist it back.

  “Sins are always repaid,” I tell him, withdrawing my knife only a few centimeters to ram it straight back in. “I hope my face is the first you see when you wake up in hell.” I push him away, leaving the knife in him. I watch as his grabs at his stomach, striving to stem the bleed, but all too quickly, he drops to his knees, keeling over entirely moments later. The way his hands fall slack tells me I hit the right spots. “Someone clean that up.”

  It’s as I come back to the room, feeling like I’ve just been outside of the moment, that I find all eyes on me. I have men from all angles watching me, apparently astonished at my brutal feat. I fall backward, working my way toward Dante, but I don’t care to stop and get praise. Actually, the look on Dante’s face shows that he isn’t in the slightest amazed at my showmanship.

  “What did you say to him?” Dante asks, grabbing onto my arm as I go to pass him. “Ryleigh?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, not excusing myself as I leave to find the bathroom to clean up. “He’s dead. Job done.”

  I rush away, blindly rushing through the halls in the hope I’ll discover a bathroom somewhere in this house. I can feel Dante mirror every step I’ve taken, quick with his hot pursuit, but I don’t stop until I finally burst into a bathroom. I head for the basin, preparing to clean myself, but a hand wraps around my wrist, forcing me to spin on the spot.

  “Are you about to cry?” Dante assumes, and I can see where that presumptuous nature derives from – I didn’t gloat over my kill.

  “No!” I bellow, shaking him from me, and I can feel hysteria quickly starting to descend. “I’m going to clean that bastard’s blood from my hands and get myself a strong fucking drink! You can join me if you want. Unless you want to berate me because I saw your face... you weren’t impressed.”

  He takes my hand, forcing me across the room and slams me against the wall as his only response.

  “You’re right, I wasn’t impressed. I was fucking turned on.” As if to make true of his words, he pushes against me and I immediately feel the hard press of his erect cock against my leg. “What I just saw back in there, little wolf, was nothing short of perfection.”

  “I killed a man,” I retort, trying to rectify my actions.

  “And you did it so beautifully,” he says, planting a delicate kiss to my neck. Slowly, he takes my slightly stained hands, forcing them up and above my head. “I’ve never seen a woman as strong as you, Ryleigh Turner. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  I lose total ability to respond, becoming numb under the pressure of his kisses. While they’re light, they’re also greedy as they work to smother my skin. And all at once, he frees my hands only to frame my face with his large, strong hands. I barely capture a full breath when his lips crash upon mine. He brings my head up to face his more, my eyes fluttering closed as his tongue presses against my lips, forcing me to deepen the kiss. I moan against his lips, my arms wrapping around his neck.

  I wish I could stay at this moment, but Dante ends the kiss, holding me in position.

  “Every breath you take, Ryleigh, will never be yours again. This world will suck you in and consume you. You may have had the option to join this life, but your option out won't be quite as easy. It's death out, little wolf. It's your only option now."

  "Good thing I know enough to know it doesn't have to be my death," I respond, my words breathy.

  I feel a part of me loosen up. He needs to realize that this woman is well versed and wise to his game. I think I always was – that sense of corruption has lived in me ever since I could remember. I forgot what true goodness was and my vacant upbringing never changed that view.

  “You don’t realize how you both scare me and turn me on, Ryleigh Turner.” His comment causes me to giggle, but he doesn’t respond similarly. He just watches me
even more. “You don’t even know what it is you do to me... what you just did to me.”

  “Then show me.”

  Apparently, that was all he needed. We move in a smooth, swift motion across the room until he has me pinned against the door, securing us into the room. He forces my skirt up and over my thighs, pressing to get at my panties. I bite my lip in eagerness, and as his fingertips graze my skin, working toward freeing me of the flimsy material, I resist the urge to giggle as he comes up empty.

  “No panties?” he questions, mirth laces his voice. “This is going to be far more fun than I had even expected.”

  It’s while he has me trapped against the door, my skirt hitched up around my waist, standing bare and ready, that he undoes his belts and pants, allowing them to fall freely down his legs. He pushes his boxers down promptly after, only reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a sealed condom. He places the wrapper between his teeth, all the while his eyes watching me. He tears into it, freeing the rolled up piece of rubber and eagerly steps back to cover his rock hard cock. It’s not my breathing become staccato, slowing with that drizzling keenness that my muscles are beginning to exhibit.

  He puts firm hands on my thighs, pulling me up. He pins me closer to the door as my feet leave the floor and he forces them to wrap around his waist. As I do so, my arms come around his neck, and I can’t forget the look he gives me – it might not be love, but it’s a deeper emotion than lust. It’s something I’ve never seen in a man before.

  He thrusts into me with his full, hard length. I feel myself, striving to accommodate his size so much so I gasp at the pleasure I get from the fullness. He drives all thought, all sense, all feeling from me as he takes me hungrily, greedily, dirtily against the door. With hands gripping my ass, he withdraws at a fast pace, penetrating me whole seconds later. He’s not taking me slow; he plans to force my orgasm, and I’m not one to resist.