by Jenika Snow
“You’re all mine, baby.”
“Good, because I want to be with you, Mayhem. Whether that will end in fire, or be the best damn thing, I want to take that chance.” She smiled and lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “We can take one day at a time.”
He closed his eyes, nodded, and knew this woman owned him, every part of him, just as much as he owned her.
Chapter Seventeen
Two weeks later
Things had been both quiet and still during the last fourteen days since things had gone down with Sal and Mayhem.
They hadn’t heard from the Cardonas, or if Sal was even alive. But Mayhem had a feeling if things were going to get shitty it would have by now. If Sal had been alive wouldn’t he have retaliated already? He didn’t know, but he was enjoying this peace.
The club had done some digging, but they hadn’t gotten any information. It was like the family had gone silent after it had gone down. Monstello’s had been closed up, the police not called for obvious reasons. The more the silence stretched, the more Mayhem knew Sal had to be dead. With the leader and his heir gone, the family was probably setting into motion what they were going to do next. Of course Mayhem wasn’t such a fool as to think they wouldn’t eventually come looking for whoever killed off their leader.
But he could be wrong. They might not even know what in the hell happened. The security cameras had been wiped clean, and there hadn’t been any evidence left behind. But he also knew Sal night have told others what he’d been doing at that restaurant, and whom he’d been meeting. But the growing silence had Mayhem relaxing slightly, because two weeks was a long fucking time for nothing to happen.
He pushed all those thoughts away and focused on his woman. She was curled up on the couch—his couch—and sleeping soundly. In the last fourteen days she’d left that shitty bar she’d been working at, packed her things from her equally crummy apartment, and moved into his place. Of course it might be rushing to move her to Desperation, and to have her in his place, but when things felt right he latched onto it and didn’t let go.
Nate was working for the club, getting his life on track, and Mayhem was surprised at how well he was doing. Although threats from the club on how they’d break bones if he didn’t keep on the straight and narrow and attend his support groups, probably helped in playing a big part.
Birdie was making a recovery, but it was slow, and hard to watch. The prospect was still in the hospital, the Patches getting him there in time. He would have bled out if they hadn’t left when they did. Even now Fury seemed angry, enraged. Mayhem knew the two men were close, knew from talk that Birdie had saved Fury’s life one time, and that was why they were so close.
But Birdie was alive, and that’s all that mattered.
Mayhem kept staring at Butters, wanting to hold her, but he didn’t move, didn’t want to wake her. In fact, he liked watching her sleep, seeing the peace on her face. It was nice to have her here, to be able to touch her, hold her whenever he wanted. His life was pretty messed up, dangerous and violent at times, but having Butters here, knowing he could come home and she’d be right beside him as he slept, made Mayhem feel like the luckiest bastard in the world. He just needed to make sure he didn’t fuck this up, because Butters was it for him.
****
Fury watched her.
Angelina.
She was nervous, that was clear by the way she kept looking over her shoulder as she walked down the street. She wore a long jacket that reached her knees, and the hood from the coat was covering her head. But she was the one he was looking for.
And then he’d seen someone watching the club from across the street, a dark car that screamed it belonged to that punk-ass and ignorant gang they’d dealt with. It could have been Fury’s paranoia and tension, waiting for that other shoe to drop, or it could mean something more. But then he’d seen other dark vehicles around town whenever he’d gone out. This all may be in his head, but Fury knew from a lifetime of fucked-up shit happening, that if he had a bad feeling about all of this then something was going to go down.
And if something was going to go down he would be ready with his guns held high. So he’d done some of his own research, made sure he was prepared to have a bargaining chip of his own. It was twisted and screwed up, but it was what he was going to do to ensure his club and the men within it were safe, that no one was going to get the upper hand.
Fury had never been one to jump headfirst and think later, but he was certainly doing it this time around. He’d seen strange cars sitting across from the club, swore people followed him, watched him. If nothing came about this, and it was all in his head, Fury would deal with that. But until then, until he knew for sure what in the hell was going on, he was going to fucking do this.
He needed leverage, backup, and she would ensure that if shit got dark he’d have a pawn. The woman would be what he would use.
Hell, everything he’d been feeling, seeing, could be totally unrelated to the Cardonas, and be all about someone from Fury’s past coming to get payback, which was a possibility given the life Fury had led. There were plenty of people that wanted a piece of him, to get back, get even. He’d burnt a lot of bridges in his day.
Or it might all be nothing.
He’d already taken off his cut, but he put a baseball cap on his head, pulled up the lapels on the jacket he’d thrown on, and walked across the street, following the woman. He couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t easy on the eyes. She was. In fact, she was fucking gorgeous, with a curvy body that had him thinking pretty dirty fucking thoughts.
He might not know exactly what he’d do with Angelina Cardona once he had her, but he wasn’t thinking that far in advance. The only thing he was focused on was making sure he had leverage if her father, Sal, somehow came back from the dead.
****
Angelina slowly opened her eyes, her mascara feeling like it was clumped in her eyelashes, like she couldn’t get her eyes opened wide enough because of that. The first thing she realized was she was in a bedroom. The shades were closed, but she could see the sun shining through them. She tried to move, but when she realized she was immobile she looked down. Her legs were bound together, and her hands were above her head, tied to the headboard.
She struggled to get her hands free, but a gasp of pain left her as the rope that was used to bind her hands dug into her flesh, abrading the flesh.
“Hello?”
Silence greeted her.
“Help,” she screamed out, struggling harder, gritting her teeth against the pain. Angelina tried to recall what in the hell happened, and how she’d gotten here. “Help,” she cried out again. She glanced around the room, but aside from the bed and a worn looking dresser, there wasn’t anything in the room.
She tried to think of how she’d gotten here, and it was during that mind strain that she remembered someone coming up from behind her, placing a rag over her mouth, and then everything had gone dark.
And then she heard the sound of heavy boots coming closer to the closed door. She held her breath, her entire body tensing. Sweat started to cover her face and the back of her neck, and also sliding down the valley between her breasts.
Had her father found her? Was it his men that had done this to her? It wasn’t Sal’s normal move, but it had been months since she’d spoken to her father, and she knew desperate times made people do twisted things.
She could hear the thumping of her heart beating wildly, and as she watched the door handle turn, she felt the rise of fear.
Angelina had lived a life that was filled with violence and danger. She was used to knowing fear was something that held people in check, but she’d always been surrounded by others that wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But Angelina had hated that life, and that was why she’d left, run from it all and was staying low.
The door pushed open, and she felt her eyes widen at the beast of a man standing in the doorway. She thought her father and his men had been definitely big, but this
man, who wore a pair of loose fitting worn-in jeans, a dark t-shirt, and a biker leather vest, was by far the largest man she’d seen. On his vest the name “Fury” was stitched into a patch on one side of the leather.
The power and strength that came from him frightened her to the point she felt her hands shake in their bonds.
He didn’t say anything, but did bring his bottle of beer to his mouth and take a long drink from it as he watched her intently.
Angelina started to hyperventilate when he took a step closer. He set the bottle on the dresser, watching her the whole time.
“What do you want? Why am I here?” She tried moving back on the bed, but being bound only allowed her to bend her knees.
“You’re here because of your father.” His voice was so deep she felt it throughout her whole body. He stopped at the head of the bed, and she couldn’t do anything but look up at him. He reached out, and she flinched, not knowing if he’d hit her. But instead he grabbed a lock of her dark hair and lifted it up, rubbing it between his fingers.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
“No?”
She shook her head, and he dropped the lock of her hair.
“Your father isn’t Sal Cardona?” He lifted a brow.
Her throat was closing, and she knew lying at this point might only make things worse, if that was even possible.
“I don’t want anything to do with my dad. I haven’t spoken to him or anyone in his gang in months.”
He smirked, but it wasn’t humorous.
“If you’re trying to get even with him I’m the last person that can help. My father doesn’t want anything to do with me.” That last part was a lie, because she knew her father wouldn’t let her just leave. She was blood, in the organization for life, and her running had only made things worse. But she couldn’t turn back, even if she wanted to. She didn’t want that life, but it seemed even running couldn’t keep the darkness that surrounded the family surrounding her.
“Believe me, if Sal’s alive he’ll want something to do with you, especially after he realizes what I plan on doing.”
If Sal’s alive?
She swallowed again, not knowing if that information should have made her happy or slightly unnerved. Her father was a hard man to kill, and she knew since she’d witnessed three attempts to take him out.
“What do you plan on doing with me?” Angelina was afraid to ask, but she found herself posing the question anyway.
He smirked again. “Baby, you’re what I’ll be using in case shit goes ugly again with the Cardonas. And if it’s nothing,” he said almost to himself, “then I’ll still have some fun with you.”
She felt her eyes widen.
“I deserve my vengeance because your father and his men hurt someone close to me.”
She shook her head, thinking of all kinds of frighteningly horrifying things this man planned on doing with her, to her.
The End
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Other Books by Jenika Snow:
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Evernight Publishing
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