With an impassive expression, Riley looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “Then end this quickly, before the feds get involved. Mr. Murphy is getting flack from the local authorities. So are Varnakov and Sal Peretti. All three want this business settled now.”
Leaning back slightly, he forced his tone to sound aloof, though he was buzzing with excitement that he might get consent. “Is that permission to take out Peretti?”
Riley sipped his beer. “You know I can’t give you that authorization, Shane. Even Mr. Murphy couldn’t officially sanction that hit without approval from the goombah’s grandfather unless he wants a war. But, if the opportunity arose, and you could be sure it wouldn’t come back to the Murphy family… Well, I certainly wouldn’t dissuade you.” He winked a hazel eye.
Relaxing considerably, he allowed himself a drink of the draft sitting untouched before him. It would have been a shame to come to Kilkearney’s Pub and not have a pint of the exclusive-label lager imported from Ireland. “And the money?”
Riley finished his beer before answering. “Mr. Murphy considered your history of excellent service to the family. As long as you handle this Peretti problem delicately, he’s prepared to lay blame with them.”
“Fuck up and I repay him the million bucks?” Shane tossed out the words casually, testing his supposition.
“Fuck up and you’ll be dead.” Riley pushed back from his chair. “So don’t fuck up.”
Shane nodded, pretending to be more unperturbed than he felt as he finished his beer before walking slowly out of the pub. The bright spring sunshine had faded to an overcast gray while he was in conference with Murphy’s underboss. It was edging toward evening, and he went to his car. The red sports car would eat the miles back to his home easily, but he was still anxious to return and wielded the accelerator with a heavy foot.
It wasn’t because he was afraid of missing the ballet. He just felt better when Mia was in sight, and he knew she was safe from Peretti. His house was a fortress that Peretti would find almost impossible to breach, but he couldn’t help feeling she was safer with him than anyone else.
He shifted into fourth and snorted with amusement at the thought. After the things he’d done to her, it was fucking amazing she considered herself safe with him. Did Mia understand she was safe from Peretti, even if not safe from Shane himself? He was just as driven to possess her as he had been. The more he had, the more he wanted.
Shane squirmed, thinking he wasn’t sure he could ever get enough of her. When he was with her, it soothed the beast inside him that wanted to completely consume her so she’d always be with him. His feelings for his little Russian doll would have sent her into a panic if she really grasped the intensity. They certainly freaked him out. He’d never wanted anyone this way before.
She was a drug, superior to, and more addictive than, any other. In his younger years, he had dabbled with different drugs before Cormac pointed out to him only a fool got involved with the kind of shit that fucked up the brain and took a man’s edge. He had decided the brief highs weren’t worth the lows or the risks and had quit cold turkey.
She was like the most insane high ever, and the more he took, the more he wanted to take, until there was nothing left. A dark streak in him wanted to use her up and drain everything from her. He wanted Mia’s light and laughter. He feared he would happily drain away all the sweet things about her that made him feel good if he could. Had he already started to do so? She seemed content with him, but was she? Was his Mia a good actress trying to placate him, or did she truly feel…something for him?
That annoying voice of conscience he’d ignored for years whispered the reminder that he could send her away and save her from him, his world, and Aldo Peretti. Before the thought fully bloomed, he smashed it like a bug. Fuck that. She was his and would stay his. It was only fair, since he was hers.
Shane had belonged to her from the moment he’d met her blue eyes. It had taken a little time to realize he wanted to do more than fuck her. Once he’d accepted he wanted everything, it hadn’t taken him long to find a way to make that happen. Now that he had her, his plan to make her want to stay seemed to be working. Every touch, every kiss, every single time her pussy clenched around him as she surrendered to another orgasm bound her that much tighter to him.
She was passionate and loyal. If he could win her heart, she would never take it back. Shane didn’t have time for emotions, and he wasn’t going to label whatever he felt as love. That word was too tame and insipid to encompass the breadth of his feelings and the depth of his need. Mia probably considered love the most important aspect of a relationship though, so all he had to do was convince her she loved him.
Feeling smug with the success of his machinations so far, he pointed the car toward home and planned out the sensual, seductive evening ahead in minute detail. His own heart raced as he imagined holding her and making love to her tenderly, followed by a pang of anxiety. Was his plan to woo her was working too well and backfiring, making him feel more than he’d anticipated? Was he flirting with danger and on the cusp of caring about her in a way he’d never experienced with another woman?
With a shake of his head, he pushed aside that thought. Shane knew what he wanted and went after it. He wasn’t the kind of guy to fall into a trap, especially one of his own making.
Chapter Twelve
Mia clutched Shane’s arm as they entered the Morrissey Performance Hall, home of City Ballet. The place was crowded with people in their finery, and she was glad she had opted for the sexy red dress with its split high up her left thigh instead of a more demure black dress she’d considered. It had hidden the burn on her shoulder, but would have been bland amid this throng.
Shane had gone with classic black, wearing a perfectly tailored pair of black slacks and jacket, with a cashmere turtleneck underneath. Her fingers itched to touch the soft material. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to touch the skin underneath, not the black turtleneck.
It was crazy how much she wanted him. Even now, surrounded by all these people, her panties grew damp and her nipples hardened when she imagined his hands on her. How could she be so addicted to him under the circumstances? Was she really so easy to sway that all it took was some excellent bedroom technique and a few orgasms to gain her compliance?
She had a feeling it was as simple and as complicated as that when it came to Shane. He was an elemental force that drew her, even when he repulsed her. Even when she hated him, she wanted him. And she hadn’t hated him for several days.
How did she feel? Mia didn’t want to examine that, and it was a relief to have her attention diverted by the arrival of a blond man just a bit shorter than Shane. He was maybe five years older, but looked rougher. His face wasn’t as smooth or perfectly balanced as her lover’s. He was interesting rather than classically handsome with his too-full lower lip, crooked nose, and light-blue eyes that rested on her and didn’t seem to miss anything. “You must be Mia.”
She took the hand he extended automatically. His hand was large and calloused, folding over her fingers easily, though she didn’t feel trapped by his light touch. “Yes.” Tilting her head, examining the way the two men stood near each other, their posture suggesting both were at-ease, she guessed, “Cormac?”
He grinned, and it changed his face from rough to compelling. “The very same. I’m sure my reputation precedes me, but don’t listen to him.”
She smiled. “He said you were a good friend who helped him out more than once.”
“Oh, well, in that case, every word he spoke is the truth.” Before Shane could protest, he took her hand from his arm and tucked it under his instead. “Let me escort you to your seat.”
“Oh, but, I don’t know where—”
Shane fell into step behind them. “We share a box, babe.”
“You like the ballet that much?” It didn’t seem like a plausible interest for a rough Irish mobster. Shane’s regular attendance made sense, with his sister being a b
allerina in this company, but shouldn’t a guy like Cormac be more at home in a sports bar?
Cormac gave her an enigmatic smile. “I haven’t missed a performance in two years.”
As they climbed the stairs to the box, he chatted amicably, and she answered. Cormac was a smooth talker and charming. She briefly wondered if the mafia trained guys how to behave, or if these two just happened to be charmers that ended up in organized crime.
A few minutes after they were seated, the lights went down, and the show began. Mia watched it, enchanted as always. Each time she glanced at Shane, she caught him watching her instead of the performance. It should have been discomfiting or creepy, but something in his gaze made the blood rush in her veins and slicked the flesh between her thighs.
If Cormac hadn’t been in the seat beside her, she would have slid onto Shane’s lap and let his hand slip under the slit in her dress to see just how wet she was for him. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone, though their companion’s eyes were always centered on the stage whenever she glanced at him.
As the show progressed, Mia realized his attention specifically centered on one performer in the show. She had a minor role and also seemed to appear in the chorus during a couple of dances, but when she was on stage, she held Cormac’s attention.
At intermission, the dancers mingled with the crowd, and she had a chance to meet the one who seemed to hold the attention of Shane’s friend. She glided toward them with either natural grace or the byproduct of years of training. A few inches taller than Mia, she was about her age, with long dark hair and a familiar shade of green eyes.
She wasn’t surprised to hear the ballerina’s name was Siobhan. Shane’s sister. Glancing out the corner of her eye, she saw Cormac light up and didn’t miss the way the girl blushed slightly when he took her hand in a gentle squeeze that lasted only a second.
“How are you enjoying the show?” asked Siobhan.
“It’s beautiful,” said Mia, able to answer honestly.
“How are you?” asked Shane, his tone one she had never heard before. “Are your injections helping?”
The woman sighed. “Yes, Shane, I’m fine. I have pain while dancing, but I always have a little pain.” Meeting Mia’s gaze, she gave her a conspiratorial smile. “Some things are worth the pain, right?”
Mia nodded, rendered speechless by the simple words. It had been a throwaway comment, but it resonated with her. She was on a dangerous path, well on her way to embracing the pain to receive the pleasure.
Blinking, she pushed away those alarming thoughts as the house lights flickered, and Siobhan made her way backstage after suggesting dinner with them and Cormac following the show.
“We don’t have to,” said Shane.
“Have to what?” Her thoughts had distracted her.
“Dinner with Siobhan and Cormac. We have a reservation for two at Silk.”
Her eyes widened at the name of the exclusive restaurant. No doubt her father had dined there many times, but she refused to use the Kasilli name to obtain favors. Without the Kasilli money she had also eschewed, she’d never had an opportunity to eat there. It was supposed to be delicious, expensive, and romantic. The last thing she needed was another experience to seduce her senses.
Smiling, she waved a hand. “We can do that some other night. I’d love to have a chance to get better acquainted with your sister and your friend.” Ignoring his visible disappointment before his expression closed, she slipped into her seat, focused her gaze on the stage, and didn’t see another bit of the show as her mind churned with thoughts. Asking herself if she was really feeling those things for him, or if Shane was just manipulating her, left her no closer to an answer by the time the performance concluded.
***
They waited for Siobhan around the back of the building. Bruno and Wallace stood nearby, and the limousine driver leaned against the car, waiting to let them in. Mia stood close to Shane, ostensibly to soak up his body heat, but knowing it was more than that. He drew her like the clichéd moth to the flame. Whenever he was near, she couldn’t seem to stay out of touching distance.
It was the same for him, she observed. Experimenting, she stepped away from him for a moment, pretending to eye a poster for the ballet’s next show launching in a few weeks. In less than a minute, he had followed her with his body, his hand on her hip, even as he remained facing Cormac and talking to his friend. He seemed unaware of the unconscious pull between them.
Confused and conflicted, she stood there searching for a solution to the unexpected problem of her hunger, attraction, and desire for the man who had kidnapped her. It was a relief to see Siobhan bounding toward them. She wore a sweatshirt and legwarmers over her tights. The pointe shoes were gone, replaced by high-end sneakers.
She waved at them, and her red scarf flapped in the breeze. Because of its color, it took Mia a moment to comprehend what was happening when the other woman suddenly stopped and jerked backward, grabbing hold of her neck. It was only when she pulled her hand away, covered with blood, that she realized Siobhan was injured in some way.
Shane pushed her down to the ground and started to run toward his sister. Cormac was already en route, and she grasped the back of his jacket, dragging him closer in her fear. “What’s going on, Shane?”
He turned back to her, looking impatient, but that expression changed to one of shock before morphing to agony. With a small grunt, he collapsed to the ground.
Mia scuttled over to him, leaning over Shane. Her hands traveled over his body of their own accord, as her gaze fastened on the bloodstain blossoming through the hole in his jacket and soft cashmere sweater. She bunched handfuls of the material without thought, bending over him. “Shane? Are you dead?”
He grunted, which might have been an aborted laugh or a sound of pain. His eyes fluttered, but didn’t open.
She issued a sound of protest when Bruno physically lifted her out of the way, handing her off to Wallace as he knelt over his boss. She looked at the other man. “What happened?”
“They were shot.” He waved down the street. “I put in a call for our guys to try to catch that car, but I don’t know if they can.”
“Shot?” She shook her head, wanting to deny his assertion, even as her gaze went to Shane’s barely moving form. Looking at Siobhan, she saw the woman sitting up against Cormac, who held his handkerchief pressed to her neck. Blood had soaked the linen, but she didn’t seem seriously injured. “Who?” Even as she asked, she knew the answer Wallace would give.
“Peretti. The boss has gone after his markets heavily this week.” Wallace scowled. “All this because of pussy.” His sneer in her direction broadcast his opinion. “You must be an incredible piece of ass, honey.”
“Fuck you.” Without waiting for his permission, she walked away from him. Mia pressed her back against the wall of the building, tuning out the milling crowd as her gaze focused on Shane. The sound of sirens in the background seemed closer, and she hoped they would make it in time to save him.
If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have been in danger. Mia knew that was an irrational thought. If Shane hadn’t taken her, this wouldn’t have happened either. He was equally to blame, if not more so. Aldo was the one most to blame for the violence, and she knew he would have taken her eventually, whenever he got tired of playing whatever waiting game in which he had been engaged.
Shane jerked suddenly, and she stood upright. Mia’s first impulse was to run to him. That same irresistible pull seemed to be drawing her forward. She needed him. Needed to be with him. Needed to reassure herself he was alive and would be safe.
She froze after two steps, self-preservation kicking in. If she gave in to the compulsion to join him, she’d never get away. Mia sensed her entire future hinged on the next few seconds. If she chose Shane, she was choosing him forever. That thought terrified her, and she denied the rush of emotion rising in her chest. She didn’t feel…something she refused to label…for the man who had taken her captive.
No amount of great sex could compensate for him stealing her freedom and taking her virginity so roughly.
Now was her chance to escape. She could flee Shane and her stepbrother. All she had to do was slip away in this burgeoning crowd. Mia had enough money saved to finance a bus ticket out of town and would be able to start over somewhere far away. Somewhere safe.
Somewhere without Shane.
That idea should have buoyed her rather than left her depressed. It was the shocking realization of how much she would miss Shane that sent her running in the opposite direction of where he lay. She couldn’t just give in and allow herself to love him. He was dangerous, borderline crazy, and determined to have her at any cost.
Just surrendering to her fate and accepting her role as his lover would be akin to endorsing his methods. She couldn’t blithely accept what he’d done, or take her role as mafia boss’s consort in stride. Mia owed it to herself to get away from his sphere of influence, to regain her equilibrium and sense of self and recover from Shane. Surviving Shane was one thing. Embracing him was something she couldn’t do without betraying everything she believed and everything she was.
Chapter Thirteen
Mia looked at the bus schedule again, though she had the thing memorized by now, having stared at it so much the past two days. If she left the seedy motel right now, she could be on a bus bound for Atlanta in forty minutes. Dallas in seventy minutes. Detroit in eighty-five minutes.
The destination didn’t matter, as long as it was far away from here. So why hadn’t she grabbed the backpack stuffed full of a few essentials she’d taken, along with the roll of money hidden in the air conditioner vent, from her apartment the night she’d fled the scene of the shooting? Why wasn’t she on her way to the bus station? Why hadn’t she already gone and started her journey away from Aldo and Shane?
Just thinking his name made her breath hitch in her throat and sent a pang through her chest. She hadn’t allowed herself to call again, but she’d spoken with his sister that first night, after he’d been shot, and learned he would probably survive. When Siobhan had asked her if she loved him, Mia had let a truthful answer slip through her lips before she could talk herself out of doing so.
Shane: A Mafia Love Story: Dark Erotic Romance Page 13