The Escape_An Irish Mafia Romance

by Cassie Wild

  He told me to follow him and I fought the urge to look over my shoulder. I’d see Brooks there, watching me. I knew it.

  I could all but feel his presence at my back, warming flesh that had chilled in the past few minutes. The silk of my blouse clung to me and despite the padding of my bra, I could feel my nipples standing up, hard, pained little points of friction that seemed far too sensitive to tolerate the touch of air, much less cloth.

  We reached a room in the area marked VIP and I bit my lip as he opened a door and gestured inside. “He’s waiting.”

  The second the door closed behind me, I knew I’d made a mistake.

  A big, bulky frame lay stretched back in a recliner, his large body all but spilling out of the chair. He was big—tall and broad…and overweight. So overweight his eyes all but disappeared in the folds of his face. He didn’t have a double or triple chin, but rather four heavy rolls of fat layered under his face.

  He waved a hand at me, fingers thick and heavy like sausages.

  “Come, come…Daria, right?” he said.

  I eased closer, trying to find some of the confidence I’d had earlier.

  It was gone, though, and the man in front of me gave me a leering smile. Something that felt like terror tried to overtake my brain. I fought it back and even managed a slight smile.

  “I’m Leon, Daria.” His smile did nothing to ease my fears. “I very much enjoyed watching you dance. You’re quite good at it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling just the slightest. I managed to gain control of it before I said, “Would you like me to continue the dance I performed on the stage?”

  He held out a hand and at first, I thought maybe everything would be okay. I spun around and swiveled my hips in time to the music coming into the room from the club.

  I sensed the movement behind me and spun around just in time to see my…customer…take a step toward me. He’d hefted his frame from the chair in complete silence.

  Now he stood just a few feet away.

  I spun away again, performing a bump and grind, but finished so that I was facing him.

  He moved closer yet and reached out. I froze.

  There was a greedy light in his eyes.

  “Leon,” I said in protest, my voice trembling.

  His thick lips curled in a smile. “Come here, Daria.”

  I jolted, startled into movement as he went to grab me.

  I backed away just in time. “I…I need to dance, Leon,” I told him.

  “You need to stop moving away from me. Come here, dear.”

  “No.” I shook my head, terror bleeding into me as I realized something—he had expected to touch me.

  “I’m paying fifteen hundred dollars for a very nice piece of pussy,” he replied. “Now come here.”

  I backed away and found myself cornered up against the door. Desperately, I tried the knob.

  It didn’t turn.

  Leon chuckled and lifted one big hand. He dangled a small key in front of me for a few seconds, before he fisted his big palm around it. “In thirty minutes, you can go. But for now…”

  For somebody as large as he was, he moved with incredible speed and grace.

  I darted away from him yet again, but I was running out of escape routes.

  “I love it when they play hard to get,” he told me, his sinister grin widening even more.

  He grabbed me again and I smacked his hands away. “No!” I told him, putting as much force into the command as I could.

  He kept coming at me.

  Pinned between him and his big chair, I tried to figure out my options.

  “Come here, pretty Daria,” he said, voice rough.

  He made to lunge for me and I jerked away, twisting out of his reach just in time.

  His cruel snarl told me he wasn’t playing games anymore as he rushed me. He had me cornered now and there was no place to go. I shrank against the wall as he grabbed for me.

  “I said, come here,” he growled.

  I was all but shaking now as he glared down at me.

  He caught my chin in his hand and wrenched my head around until I was facing up at him.

  He lowered his head and I tried to pull back, the thought of kissing him so revolting, I almost lost my stomach contents right there.

  He laughed.

  It infuriated me, the sound of that laugh.

  This time when he tried to grab me, I slammed the flat of my hand against his forearm with force.

  His eyes widened.

  I saw him lifting his hand, but I couldn’t move in time and he slapped me. I crashed to the side and probably would have gone down if he hadn’t gripped my arm so tightly.

  Pain slammed into me a few seconds later and for a moment, I was too dazed to think as he dragged me up against him.

  In desperation, I did the only thing I could—I drove my knee upward between his legs as hard as I could.

  It would have likely done more damage if he’d lost a few hundred pounds, but even so, he stumbled back a few feet, clutching his balls.

  He swayed and I winced as he fell to the side.

  I heard the thick, wet crack just as I saw his head striking the side of the nearby table.

  He went down like a felled tree. And he didn’t move.

  Something silver glinted on the floor and I grabbed it. The key. My hand shook as I fitted it to the lock but I managed to open the door and darted outside, seeking freedom.

  My gaze landed on the brilliant orange text of the exit sign and I lunged for it, desperate to just get away from that small, terrifying room.

  I crashed through the door and leaned up against the wall, breathing hard.

  I felt like I’d just run twenty miles.

  When the door opened, I jolted, then looked up in what felt like relief as I recognized Brooks’ rough-hewn features.

  He gave me a grim look and offered his hand.

  I growled, “Leave me alone,” before I hurried away to find my escape.

  Twenty

  Brooks

  Daria moved to the music like it had been created just for her.

  I was having a hard time fitting this sensuous, erotic creature to the elegant ballerina I’d watched only the other day. Then, like now, she danced like a fawn, her movements so innately natural.

  Maybe they were.

  I tightened my hands into fists as the other men stared at her, obviously entranced.

  I’d had that long, elegant body pressed to mine.

  I’d tasted that mouth.

  As I stared at her, all but willing her to look at me, she stroked the hair of the man next to me and curled her lips in a decadent smile.

  I thought I’d lose it when she flung a leg across his and settled into his lap, rocking against him in a near-echo of how she’d moved against me.

  He was turned on—seriously—it was written all over his face.

  I knew the exact second when she realized it. Her eyes widened and darkened just a fraction, her mouth falling open on a sigh.

  Yeah, princess…you’re having an affect on us. Isn’t that what you wanted?

  I didn’t let myself grab her away from him, much as I wanted.

  I even held myself steady when she got up and sauntered over to the other judge, treating him to an abbreviated version of what the first man had received.

  He got grabby and I fantasized breaking his hand off at the wrist and feeding it to him, but Daria had no problem spinning away from all of us, presenting a very fine visual of her ass as she twisted in a slow, sexy undulation.

  The music was drawing to a close. I stared at her, willing her to come to me, already aching at the thought of her sweet body pumping against mine.

  But she looked right through me.

  I reached out a hand and traced my fingers down her arm. I didn’t grab her like I wanted to. Nor did I throw her over my shoulder.

  “My turn,” I said when she finally deigned to look at me.

  She sniffed. “You
only wish.” She said it just loud enough for me to hear, then spun away.

  As she finished another slow undulation, the music died away.

  I stared at her, riveted as she left the stage.

  The emcee had to get my attention and remind me that I needed to cast my vote before I left the stage.

  By the time I did, Daria was already down the steps and moving through the crowd.

  “Not so fast, princess,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  Before I could draw close enough to get her attention, a vaguely familiar man cut in front of her. Daria came up short.

  I watched as they exchanged words. The guy pointed toward the VIP section and dread rose inside me.

  Shit.

  But I wasn’t able to catch up to them before she disappeared inside one of the private booths for VIPs.

  Shit.

  “Hey…”

  I stopped, realizing that the men I’d been sitting with earlier were just a few feet away, and Sean was in my face.

  “I need to get Daria,” I said, my voice tight. “She’s got no idea what she’s getting into.”

  “She can handle herself,” Sean said, shrugging. “Come on. We’re not done yet and I want to get home to my wife.”

  He said the word wife with a strange sort of pride.

  I almost brushed him off, casting one more look to the closed door that separated me from Daria.

  It didn’t reopen.

  Shit.

  Unable to concentrate on what everybody was saying, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

  Sean followed, much to my annoyance.

  The VIP section all but beckoned me and I set my jaw, determinedly ignoring the room where I’d seen Daria disappear.

  I didn’t ignore my brother, though.

  Turning, I glared at him. “What?”

  “You need to let it go, man. Come on. If you want a woman that bad, we can get you one.”

  I almost bit his head off.

  This wasn’t just because I wanted a woman—no, not a woman. Daria.

  I wanted her.

  I was still processing the intensity of that want, too.

  “Look, Sean,” I said.

  But I never finished.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the door to the VIP room come flying open and Daria half-stumbling, half-running out.

  Everything inside me froze.

  Somebody rushed to the still-gaping door of the VIP room. Security, I realized, noting the earpiece he wore, the thin wire that ran to his mouth. WTF, I thought, every nerve tensing.

  He reappeared momentarily in the doorway, eyes wide as he searched the club.

  Duardo had separated himself from the crowd.

  I felt my stomach shrink as he approached the door.

  “Shit,” Sean muttered, shoving a hand back through his hair.

  “What?”

  He eyed me nervously, “I saw who it was that went in that room. It was Leon Delgado.”

  The name instantly put me on edge. “As in the rich pervert who helps fund the Cuban mob?”

  Sean didn’t answer. More people flocked into the room, whispers breaking out. Then they weren’t whispers, I caught the last half of something one of the big guys said.

  “…knocked him out. He’s got blood on him…he’s going to want heads to roll over this…”

  Daria had been in that room with Leon Delgado.

  Leon Delgado only had to look at somebody the wrong way for some of his underlings to offer to kill for him.

  And Daria had humiliated him.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said shortly. I only spared one last look at Sean. “Call for a ride. I’m taking the car.”

  He was still sputtering behind me when I turned on my heel and strode down the dim hallway that Daria had taken just minutes earlier.

  Relief all but crashed into me when I pushed through the door and found her leaning against the rough brick wall, staring at nothing while tears streaked down her face.

  The sight was like a fist to my chest, but I didn’t have to time to comfort her.

  I reached out a hand and when she didn’t accept it, I just took hers in mine, telling myself to ignore her trembling.

  She reacted with fury, striking out with a strength that surprised me. I caught her fist just before she would have slammed into my face. “Wait, Daria,” I said, raising my voice. “It’s me. It’s Brooks.”

  I didn’t think she heard me at first, but then she swayed and sagged back against the wall.

  “Leave me alone,” she said in a pitiful growl.

  “I can’t do that, sweetheart.” Taking her arm, I started to walk.

  She twisted away, but I didn’t let go. I did, however, loosen my grip as I saw the mottled red darkening her pale skin. He’d grabbed her. He’d put enough force in it to mark her.

  “Daria,” I said, trying to gentle my voice.

  She turned her head and that was when I noticed the redness on her left cheek, and the slight swelling of her lower lip.

  “He hit you,” I said, the words barely more than a whisper.

  She sniffed but didn’t answer.

  I moved to touch her cheek.

  Then I heard voices and made myself shake off the flicker of gentleness. “You just pissed off a very important man, Daria. I’ve got to get you out of here before he tries to hurt you.”

  She just stared at me.

  I shook her slightly. “Did you hear me? We have to go.”

  I didn’t linger any longer, just started to walk, keeping my hand wrapped around her upper arm, careful not to touch the reddened area that would surely bruise by tomorrow.

  This time, she didn’t resist me.

  Twenty-One

  Daria

  It wasn’t until he unlocked the door of the sleek black town car that I snapped out of the daze.

  Focusing on Brooks, I backed away as he gestured for me to get in.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, recalling the embarrassment from a few days ago. Both embarrassments.

  “You are.” He shoved his face into mine and said in a low, hard voice, “Get in. Now.”

  I jutted my chin up and glared at him. “Go back to your girlfriend, Brooks.”

  “My…” He blinked, then shook his head. “My girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, the woman you kissed the night of the wedding…the one who was in your bed.”

  I said it with so much venom, it was a wonder the words didn’t set fire to my tongue.

  But he just stared at me in confusion. It cleared after a few seconds. “Are you talking about Danika?”

  Behind him, I heard raised voices.

  He tensed and then looked back at me, swearing. “Danika isn’t my girlfriend. She was there looking for my brother, Declan. She was trashed. I just put her in my bed so she could sleep it off before she embarrassed anybody.”

  There was nothing but sincerity in his voice. Then his eyes narrowed and he gestured to the car. “Get in and we’ll talk. But you have to get in now.”

  Something about the way his voice tightened convinced me to do just that and I slid in, just as a rush of men ran past us. My heart leaped into my throat as they darted down the alley where I’d been only moments earlier.

  Brooks slid into the seat next to me.

  “Who are they looking for?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  “You.” He said it in a flat, hard voice, then slanted a look at me. “You did hear me tell you that you’d just pissed off a very important man, right?”

  “He grabbed me,” I said, terror making my voice sharp. “I went in there to dance and he grabbed me. I didn’t sign up to have sex with anybody in there.”

  He gave me a pitying look and shook his head. “You pretty much did. You go into a private room with one of their VIPs, you aren’t going in there just to dance.”

  His words didn’t make sense right away. I had to swallow twice before I could speak.

  “Are you…” I sto
pped and cleared my throat. “You mean the guy thought I was going to…”

  “He expected you to do whatever he wanted, even if it meant crawling around in your underwear barking like a dog.”

  I cringed as my face exploded with heat. “I didn’t know that! The manager just said he wanted me to dance!”

  “I figured that. I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice taut with an emotion I couldn’t name.

  I blinked eyes that were suddenly blurred with tears. A harsh breath escaped me and I clapped a hand over my mouth and told myself I wasn’t going to cry.

  Nothing had happened.

  Brooks was here and he seemed to want to help. He’d just said he’d take care of it.

  “Hey…” His voice drifted to me in the dark, quiet car.

  I tensed as he took my hand in his and squeezed gently. “It will be okay,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I sagged back against the seat, desperate to believe him.

  Something hit me, though, and I immediately tensed again. “Isabel! She’s back at the club!”

  He swore, then let go of my hand, reaching for the phone he’d dropped into the console.

  I sat there as he dictated a message to his brother.

  Isabel was in the club with Daria. Find her.

  “She’ll be okay,” he told me, shooting me a look that I suppose was meant to be reassuring. “Her brothers and father own that club.”

  I breathed out, oddly reassured. Basilio owned the club. Things would be okay. Brooks seemed to like me. Surely, he could help with this. “If I tell Basilio what happened…”

  “It won’t matter.” He gave me another look; this one made me feel like I was about twelve years old. “You’ve got no idea what kind of world you got involved in, Daria. Let me handle this.”

  Pressing my lips together, I fought to control my breathing and the fear that all but crushed my chest.

  Once more, Brooks took my hand. “I’ll take care of this, Daria. I’ll take care of you.”