Fighting the urge to throw my head back and howl in frustration, I told her, as calmly and gently as possible, “I’m gonna move my hand, but if you start that screaming again, I’m shoving a sock in your mouth. Not because I want to, but because I have a goddamn headache and I need to be able to think, okay?”
Slowly, I removed my hand.
My voice seemed more even and I tried to say the next part in a comforting tone, but really, I was still growling. “I get that you think I’m going to force you to sleep with me tonight. No one is. Not on my watch.”
“What, so you think I’m going to come willingly?” Her eyes burned into mine.
“What the--? No.” Another deep breath. “No. I’m not planning on having sex, at all. I have respect for women.”
Somewhere, I’m sure Mama Angelina is feeling proud.
To my surprise, Mary didn’t start screaming or fighting again, but kept staring up at me.
“I can’t tell you what’s going to happen tomorrow, or even tonight, until I talk to the family. Just know we’re going somewhere safe. And I’m not going to touch you.” I paused. “Well, unless you make another suicide attempt. Christ, I didn’t go to all this trouble so you could try to kill yourself. Again.”
Silence fell between us as Mary frowned at me. Her gaze was flinty and suspicious, but she remained silent.
My voice was low and harsh when I spoke again. “For both of our sakes – you need to trust me. Just a little, okay?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If you’re so damn trustworthy, Axe, you can prove it by letting me go.”
I blew out a sigh. She had me there, but it was way more complicated than that.
“Would that I could, pecorelle. But I can’t. Not yet.” Her teal eyes grew stormy, with that calculating look I saw on the stage when she was eyeing up Volkov’s pistol.
My stomach lurched with nausea, remembering the dark fantasy of her death. If I let her go, they’d find her and it would come all too true in a matter of days. Maybe hours. She saw faces. She could name names. This girl pinned to my SUV could land even Emilio Ruffino’s slippery ass in jail. Forever.
Not to mention the other fingers she could point at various crime bosses…
For a moment, I considered explaining this to her. Maybe, after basically being the Ruffinos’ pet, she’d get it.
But I hesitated. She’d been through enough hell tonight. I didn’t want her to know she’d have a bounty on her head if she was freed. I still had no idea how I was going to handle that part of it. Because once Emilio realized I wasn’t about to pay him the two million I’d promised? I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be the only one with a bounty on her head.
“For the time being, we have to stick together,” I said, keeping it vague.
“Of course.” Mary shook her head. “Because you want me.”
“I want you by my side so I can protect you. The rest is… complicated.”
I realized suddenly, in a blaze of shock and heat, Mary had started to squirm against me again. Her hips were wriggling against mine in a way that was almost sensual. And, it was causing some unintentional hardening downstairs.
Swallowing, I met her eyes and watched as an icy smile touched her lips. My stomach pitched as I realized I just royally fucked up in her eyes.
“See? You’re just like all the rest of them,” Mary hissed. “So, Axe, this what turns you on? A girl who fights back? Yeah, sure, I’ll trust you. And hey, you can trust me too. How about that?”
Mary’s voice was as cold as her smile and I stepped back, only keeping her pinned in place with my hands. A surge of frustration went through me and I clenched my jaw.
I just blew it. She’s never going to trust me now that I shoved her against my car and got a goddamn hard-on. But as we glared at each other, I realized I didn’t even really care.
Let Mary try to get away from me, hell, try to kill me. Something fierce and powerful had overtaken me when I looked at this dark-haired wild child. It was more than anger. It was that same rush of something I felt at the thought of anyone touching her or hurting her. That something that made me bid.
So fuck the Ruffinos and fuck the consequences.
No matter what, no matter the damn cost – her insults, her blows, her undying hatred – I would protect her.
Or I would die trying.
Chapter Three
Brenna
The silence stretched between us as I stared out the window at what seemed like an endless row of trees on our way to God knew where.
Earlier, after our little side of the road interlude, Axe had let me go after I called him out on his shit. He silently let me climb back in the car – hovering behind me like a dark, watchful storm cloud.
Now, neither of us were speaking and all I could do was kick myself for forgetting about that pen. How could I have done that? What the hell was wrong with me?
All I knew was that, when I heard that plastic crack into a thousand pieces under Axe’s boot, something in me seemed to break along with it. I thought I realized there really was no escape and I just gave up. What was the point anymore?
But now, I wasn’t so sure.
I kept sneaking glances at Axe, who’s staring straight ahead at the road, hunched over the wheel, not looking either left or right. He was so motionless, I actually held my breath to see if he was still breathing.
Then I froze. What was I doing? How could I even be thinking Axe was anything but the enemy? I had to hate him.
Rubbing a finger across my lip, I wondered uneasily when the “had to” part came into it. My instincts were still at war. Neither side seemed to be winning at the moment, which meant the jury was still out on Axe Capestrana.
I did know the all-consuming hatred I felt earlier for him had more or less evaporated. How did that happen?
Sure, he was no Saint, not even a good Catholic boy, for that matter – even if he thought he was all holier than thou.
The way he trapped my body between the car and his own damn well proved that.
And yet…
He’d had a thousand chances to hurt me.
Maybe there was something different about him.
I shut that thought down quick.
I knew better. Hope was a seductive and deceitful kind of enemy. And I sure as hell knew not to trust.
But I kept imagining what one of the Ruffinos or their associates would have done in Axe’s position. They wouldn’t have let me off so easily, that’s for damn sure.
Richie would have grabbed my hair to the point of making me cry, then shoved me to the ground and probably spit on me. Serge would have slapped me around. Trish would have hogtied me and left me like that for hours.
And Emilio…
I shook my head.
And that’s exactly why you cannot trust him, stupid.
But even when Axe had me pinned, helpless, he was careful, using just enough force to subdue me but also make sure he wasn’t causing me pain.
It was so weird. Almost like he…gave a shit about me or something. I looked over at him again and he sighed, breaking the silence.
Then he barked out, “Will you knock that off?”
“What?”
“Keep looking over here every other second. It’s fucking spooky.”
I almost laughed. Eyes wide, I clapped a hand over my mouth and choked it back down. No. No. I wanted to cry or scream. I wanted to go back to hating him.
But it was too late.
Hope, that feeling I buried and strangled, was blossoming again somehow. It spun up to my heart, touching it with one warm finger – making me weak and strong, helpless and confident, desolate and exultant – all at the same time.
Once upon a time, I used to tell myself that hope was a strength. One that no one, not even the monsters who kidnapped me, could take away. That I was just like a princess in a fairytale, and I would only be trapped for a little while. And that meant I would survive. Surely the heroes in blue would come riding to m
y rescue.
But no one ever did.
Months passed and I had felt that belief dim, then disappear almost altogether. Soon I was trying to destroy it, that speck of light barely shining – but it seemed impossible.
My face fell as I found myself remembering Emilio’s cold laughter breaking over me one fateful night, and I felt it die, finally.
It had been so hard to kill, that hope.
Now, as its golden light seemed to wrap me in a long-forgotten embrace, I wondered if it ever was really gone.
This is bad, Brenna. You are fucking yourself over, a warning whisper hissed at me.
Watching out the window, the trees fell away as we drove along a lake. Its wide expanse ran back for miles and miles. Far away, I could see the curve of low hills against a brilliant, starry sky. A crescent moon hung low, so close, it seemed like it was touching those far off treetops.
Tears burned at the back of my throat. We drove for some time around the lake, my face pressed close to the window, staring out at the moonlit landscape. A terrible hunger for freedom pulled at me.
But the further we drove, the dimmer my glow of hope became. Soon it was nearly gone, as I came to see there were no houses, no telephone poles, no nothing. We were far away from the world.
Too far.
That’s when I realized the road we’re driving on was nothing but a dirt path. It just felt like pavement because of Axe’s monster SUV.
At that moment, he swung down a thin road, and we vanished off the main one, heading straight down to a lonely house sitting on the edge of the lake.
No neighbors, no phone. Complete isolation.
Screw you, Axe, for making me think you were different.
Throwing the SUV into park, he jumped out and walked around to my side, then yanked open my door.
“What a gentleman you are. I see you brought me to the perfect place to keep your sex slave – rent this place just for me? So no one can hear me scream? Bit squeamish about upsetting your neighbors?”
Axe rolled his eyes, but didn’t reply. He just sighed and jerked his head for me to exit the vehicle.
After a moment of simmering, I got out. There was a powerful breeze coming off the lake and it lifted my hair. For a moment, I watched as the moonlight hit the little waves and that hopeful feeling crept back.
Reluctantly, I turned away and looked back at Axe. He had his arms folded, as he leaned against the SUV. Scowling, of course. But he didn’t say anything, so I looked back out at the lake again, savoring this brief, beautiful freedom.
Then taking a deep breath, I took a step forward. At this point, I didn’t have much of a choice. Axe straightened, and we walked to the house together.
He fished a key out from under a rock next to the walkway. Then, he opened the door. We entered, me following a silent, hulking shadow that was Axe, and he fumbled for a light, muttering in Italian under his breath. Light broke over my eyes and I stared around. It was all wood paneling, rustic décor, and squashy, comfortable looking furniture. Everything looked worn and there was a slight musty smell in the air, as though no one had been here for a long time.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I shot at him, trying to hide how terrified I was. Bracing myself, I waited for him to shove me against the wall, hit me, swear at me – something, anything.
This crushing anticipation was almost starting to feel worse than anything he could actually do to me.
But he didn’t do anything at all.
He just sighed again, leaned over me to shut the door and locked it with the big, rusty key.
“For your safety,” he said.
Then he walked towards a winding staircase in the corner of the room. Even though he said nothing, I found myself following him. Curiosity was starting to war with fear.
And was winning.
We arrived in a shadowy hallway, full of closed doors. The smell of must and disuse was even stronger up here. Axe was ahead of me, walking to the very end. I hurried after him and my body tensed as he swung open the door to reveal a bedroom.
A nice, comfortable-looking bedroom. There was a thick quilt on a low white-wooded bed, an armchair by the window, and paintings on the wall of picturesque country scenes.
I snorted, but followed him in. Against my will, my heart rate was beginning to slow. He rummaged through a white dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and a tank top far too big for me.
“It’s not much,” he grunted. “But it’s better than that shitty sweater, I guess. So yeah, I chose this room because it’s the master and the shower is inside it.” Axe hesitated, not meeting my eyes. “I thought you’d prefer that.”
A horrific thought crossed my mind. Maybe he’s waiting till I get in the shower. Or go to sleep, so he could roll up on me. Some sort of role-playing scene he’d probably been fantasizing about for weeks.
“It’s through here,” he said, crossing the room, tossing the tank and boxers on the bed, and opened a door, flicking on a light.
Backing away, I glanced around the room. It was filled with windows. Maybe…
“Mary.”
Suddenly Axe was standing next to me, looming over me as he stared me down. “By all means, feel free to open the windows. And by the way, if you survive the fall, it’s ten miles to the nearest town. If the bears don’t get at you, that is.”
I looked up at him and he gave me a look back like, don’t be stupid. Flushing, I cast my eyes down.
Axe walked away and I turned, watching him leave, incredulous. He stopped in the doorway and spun around.
“Are you hungry? I can make you something, I’m a pretty good cook, I mean not like Mama Ange…” He broke off and looked away, suddenly looking pained.
Uncomfortable silence spiraled as we just stared at each other.
“You want something to eat or not?” he asked, now all gruff and scowly again.
I shook my head violently and Axe put his hands over his face, then dragged them down.
When his eyes met mine again, he made a face at me. “Whatever. Starve.” He grabbed the door and slammed it shut.
And I stood there, staring at the flaking white wood, the image of Axe in the doorway haunting my thoughts. I had thought he was pushing thirty because he felt so much like a man…nothing like the twenty-something’s I’d known before. But getting a good look at him, I saw he must have been in his early twenties. Not much older than me. It was that haunted look in his eyes, the one I’d seen in my own, which made him seem older.
But when he was standing there, in his wrinkled nice shirt and pants, his hair all messed up, talking about his grandmother’s cooking – something came over me.
I suddenly became very aware of him. His tall, muscular frame, the warm cast of his olive skin, the way his biceps showed through the material of his shirt, a tiny scar on his cheekbone, the fullness of his lips, and the way his eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment.
Like he was sharing something with me…
There was something in that gaze – that rich, chocolate brown one, flecked with gold and hazel – full of anger and annoyance and that something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
But it sent a shiver through me.
Reality was, though, I was still here. Still at his mercy. With no idea what was going to happen next. And asked to trust the guy who now technically owned me.
The guy who paid two million for a virgin at a Ruffino auction.
Biting my lip, rubbing my arms, I realized I still had no clue what to make of Axe Capestrana.
But as I looked over at the window into the night, I knew one thing.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Axe
I slumped into a chair by the window, and pressed my forehead to the cold glass. The pungent smell and taste of Nonno Beppe’s favorite red wine was on my tongue, but even after half a bottle, my mind was still racing.
I texted Colt to come out to the lake house and help me figure out what the fuck to do next. But
when lights flashed down the drive, for a second, I couldn’t help but imagine it was actually a Ruffino crew, who followed us here – ready to shoot out the windows, gun down Mary and me, and cut off our left ring fingers for Emilio’s collection.
But no, it was Colt’s massive black truck, which he pulled smoothly to a stop. I watched as he hopped out, looked around, and shook his head.
He hurried up to the door, rapped on it, and I froze, instead of answering it. Now faced with a flesh and blood Capestrana, all my big ideas suddenly seemed half-assed and juvenile.
Or maybe that was just the fucking effect Colt had on me.
He swaggered in, all suave in his gray designer suit, looked over at me, kicked the door closed, and leaned one hand up against it.
“Mary, Jesus, Joseph and a camel. Why am I in the middle of the woods right now, Axe? Not that Beppe won’t appreciate you airing out his dusty-ass cabin... But kind of a bizarre place to take a vacation.”
Colt was a good two inches shorter than my six two, but he always seemed about ten fucking feet tall when he prowled into a room. Mama Ange liked to say he just had that kind of personality, one where he couldn’t help but fill up all the space available. Part of it was probably because he was the oldest of all our siblings and cousins, and while he had a heavy burden to carry, he also loved the spotlight.
Yeah, and even though he was five years my senior, drove all the way out here, and was probably willing to help – I was pissed at his flippant tone and the way he was busting my balls already.
“If you don’t want to be here – door is right there.” I stretched out my body and picked up the wine. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”
“Fratellino, don’t pull this shit with me. I’ve had a long day, alright.” Colt came over and threw himself in the chair opposite mine. “Man, there’s no air in here. Open a damn window.” I didn’t move, so he leaned forward and cracked one open.
“How’d it go with Dante?” I asked, trying to pretend I’m not stalling.
My brother let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, he’s busy being Dante. He’s fucking precious. Thought the cops got wind of a shipment, were planning on busting our asses, and shutting down the East River transport. Which yeah, would screw us over for the winter assets, but do you think our cousin thought to verify his source?”
Better to Eat You Page 17