The Rossi Crime Family: The Complete Five Book Mafia Series

by J. L. Beck

  I am no stranger to night terrors, but this was so real, so intense. I can’t go on much longer like this. This can’t become my life. Being scared every second of the day, only to close my eyes at night and deal with my nightmares when I should be able to escape this world at least for a short time. I can’t live like this.

  Damon might not force himself on me, but he also won’t protect me unless I give him what he wants.

  I swing my legs off the bed and creep out into the hallway. It’s dark, dark as midnight. My hands feel along the wall until I find a light switch. My eyes squeeze shut from the brightness that fills the space. My gaze swings up and down the hall. There are four doors, two to the right and two to the left, and out of all of them, there’s only one that’s closed.

  I feel anxious even walking across the hall toward it. It must be Damon’s, though I suppose it could be that other man’s?

  Holding my breath, I twist the knob, opening the door as quietly as I can. I sneak into the room with treacherous tears upon my cheeks. Crying is a weakness to Damon, I know this, but I can't stop the emotional roller coaster I'm on. I sniffle into my arm and wipe away the tears. Then I glance up and take in every single inch of Damon Rossi.

  He’s breathtakingly beautiful—in a dark and tormented way. His nearly black hair is disheveled. His body is relaxed—and damn does he have a body. It looks like it's been chiseled from stone—each muscle and crevice drawing me in. His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

  As I tiptoe toward his bed, I consider turning around and running back the way I came. The fear of what may happen to me without his protection keeps me rooted. I have to talk to him…and try to reason with him. It's the only way I'm going to make it out of this alive. I exhale, letting all the anxiousness out. My eyes drift over Damon's sleeping body one last time, but once I reach his face, I realize he isn't sleeping anymore.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” His voice is gruff, and full of sleep.

  “I’ll do whatever you want.” My voice comes out cracked and raw sounding. “I’ll give you a blowjob or whatever you want, but I want something in return. I want you to promise you’ll protect me.”

  Damon's eyes bore into mine. They’re darker than normal in the dim lighting. I shiver—out of fear or cold, I don't know.

  Time stands still between us. Damon doesn't say anything right away. He only looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m really standing at his bedside or not.

  I chew on my bottom lip. I’m not really sure what to do now. Is he waiting for me to make the first move?

  My nerves are on edge. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m just over eighteen, and my brother made sure no one ever had a chance to date or kiss me. I’m trying to recall images from a porn I once watched out of curiosity.

  I climb onto the bed, grabbing the top of the black comforter. I start pulling the heavy blanket off him, but he snatches my wrist.

  “No...no blowjob. I don’t want to force you to do something.”

  For a moment, I panic. No? Does that mean he’s retracted his offer? Is he not going to protect me anymore? If he doesn't want this, then what does he want? I’m seconds away from begging him for his help, from offering him anything I can think of.

  Even my virginity… The very last thing I own.

  He doesn’t give me a chance to plead or beg for his protection. Instead, he does something that seems very unlike the Damon I’ve come to know. Releasing my wrists from his steel-grip, he pulls me on top of him. I can feel his hot breath against my lips, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.

  And then he does.

  His full lips sear mine.

  I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Fear trickles up my spine.

  I’m kissing Damon. I’m kissing him. Or maybe he’s kissing me.

  I go stiff against him. My first thought is to push him away, but then I feel his soft, warm lips deepen against mine. He’s a kisser..and my body starts to become affected by those real kisses, burning me up from the inside out.

  An emotion so deep, something I’ve never experienced before, throbs to the surface, spiraling out of control inside me. My body softens into his hold while my lips mold to his. My lips were made to kiss his. He tastes like bourbon, and there's a faint smokiness clinging to his skin. It’s an exotic combination, but I don’t mind. All those things heighten our kiss. My fingers splayed across his bare, chiseled chest, as if holding onto him could stop my body from melting into a pile of mush.

  I feel him pull away slowly, his lips feather light against mine until he's completely gone. And like a flower misses the sun's warmth at night, I miss Damon's lips against mine. His warmth seeps into me, showing me a side of him I’d been certain didn't exist. My brown eyes bleed into his sleepy, coffee-colored ones. His gaze never wavers from mine, and I watch as something swims in his eyes—an unreadable emotion. Deep down, I know I’ll be okay. I don't know how I know this or why, but I can feel it in Demon's gaze—like a protective blanket coating my body.

  The moment ends, and with little effort, Damon pulls me to his chest. I rest my head against his warm skin. The sound of his heart beating fills my ears, its steady rhythm calming me. As his hands glide down my arms, goosebumps cover my skin.

  After today, I was certain I’d never let him touch me again, but now I’m not so sure.

  His hold on me tightens, instinctually, as if he wants to make sure I don’t go anywhere. Shock twists deep inside me as he brings his other hand to my head, burying his thick fingers into my brown mane. When he starts playing with the natural curls at the ends of each strand, I nearly moan.

  His touch relaxes me, soothes me. I don't want this moment between us to end.

  “Don’t be scared. You have no reason to be scared of me.” He licks his lips before smiling at me. “I’m a bastard, a killer, and the worst man to be in your presence, but I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” he whispers before his hand stills in my hair, cradling my head against his body.

  His touch is gentle; his eyes are kind. This is the man I wish I'd met earlier today. Not the devil in disguise.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes, I mean it.”

  He sounds like he is about to go back to sleep. Afraid to move, to wake him, I cuddle up to his warm chest, letting him comfort me, partially because it feels good, and partially because I know he’s the only one who can now.

  My eyes grow heavy, and I doze in and out of consciousness, though I never go fully back to sleep.

  When I notice the sun rising, the first morning rays shining in through the window, I decide to get a shower. The only reason I didn’t shower last night is because I was scared to take my clothes off even for a second with a guy like Damon under the same roof as me. Now that I feel a little better, and after the kiss that took place between us, I’m confident no one is going to jump me in the bathroom.

  Least of all Damon.

  I slowly peel myself off him. My cheek is hot where his chest touched my skin, and I run my fingers against it to draw some of the warmth out. As soon as I’m up and out of the bed, I immediately miss it. I miss him, the warmth, and the sound of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. It’s a strange emotion to be feeling toward a man who had threatened to kill me not even twenty-four hours ago.

  But after all I’ve endured, nothing can truly shock me. Not now. With one last fleeting gaze, I sneak back into the guest room, grab my backpack, and go into the attached bathroom.

  After showering and dressing, I hear a loud commotion outside my door. The guy from yesterday—Hero, I think—runs out of Damon’s room like a madman. His shoulder bumps into mine. Luckily, I’m close to the wall, otherwise I’d be sprawled out on the floor from the force.

  Damon appears from his room a moment later, fully dressed, a look of annoyance on his face.

  Where the hell are they going?

  “Stay here, don’t touch anything, and don’t try to leave. If yo
u do, I’ll find you, and if you thought I was bad yesterday, you haven’t seen a damn thing, sweetheart.”

  I gulp down my fear, attempting to hide the feelings he draws out of me. This is the guy I met at the club, not the one I saw last night in his room. Why is he acting this way? Why is he pretending to be someone he clearly isn’t?

  With his mask fully in place, he walks away, leaving me a mess of misunderstanding and confusion. I decide then that Damon might have everyone else fooled, but after getting a glimpse of him—the real him—I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to see him the same again.

  Chapter Six

  Damon

  When I went to bed last night, I thought I’d had the equivalent of a shitty day. But fuck me sideways, today has been far fucking worse. In all the years I’ve been selling drugs, running Night Shift, and pimping girls out, I’ve never seen as much pain as I have today.

  Hero is a friend, a damn good one, but seeing him find Elyse the way he did, the anguish in his eyes, the despair...it stabbed me in my nonexistent heart. I’ve seen my fair share of violence...hell, I’ve done most of the killing, but what I experienced today…I don’t think there will be any topping that for a while.

  Pulling into the driveway of my house, I realize Keira is still here, and that she’s been here all fucking morning and afternoon alone.

  Fuck! She may have ran. Fear swims through her veins all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me if I found her gone.

  My thoughts shift, remembering the look in her eyes last night as she let me pull her into my arms. She was scared, terrified, afraid of something. I don’t know, I didn’t bother asking, but I could see it in her eyes.

  She wanted my protection, practically came begging me for it, and I promised her I’d give it to her without hurting her or demanding a damn blowjob.

  Why did I turn her down? I grind my teeth together, as if doing so will draw an answer out of me. I don’t fucking know why. Maybe it was the weed or the booze or the combination of the two that got the thing in my chest to work like I told it not to—or maybe I didn’t want to see her beautiful face full of fear and stained with tears anymore.

  I roll my eyes.

  Stupid me. Stupid heart.

  Sometimes, I wish the fucker would stop beating altogether. When your heart gets involved, it leads you down roads you normally don’t go down. I could easily see Keira and her tiny, hot as fuck body guiding me down a road I don’t need to go down.

  I kill the engine on my Cadillac and get out, slamming the door. I still have to go back to the club, which means I have to go inside, corral Keira, then drive all the way across town with her in tow. And after last night, I know I’m going to get an earful. I need to make sure shit like last night never happens again.

  I can’t be seen as weak, especially not by her.

  Walking up the front steps, I unlock the door and push it open.

  My gaze swings around the open entryway. A part of me hopes she left—less work I have to do—while the other part is scared shitless at the thought. If my brother gets his grubby paws on her, she’s as good as dead. Still, knowing I want her to be here more than I want her gone irritates the shit out of me.

  She irritates the shit out me.

  Her presence, and the fact that she makes me feel more emotions in one day then I’ve felt in my entire life.

  As I move deeper into the house, I look around for her. Complete silence settles over each and every room. No TV or radio on. No running water, foot steps, or any other sounds that would give her being here away.

  I clench my fists at my side. I hate how disappointed I am that she’s gone, and I hate even more that I’m already making plans to find her.

  I walk back into the living room and realize I’ve left the joint from last night on the coffee table. I lean over to grab it, and that’s when I see her—her small body lying in the recliner. She’s curled up in a blanket, her eyes closed and face relaxed, making her features even more beautiful. Her lips are slightly parted, and I’m reminded of the kiss we shared. I still don’t know what came over me when I kissed her. All I know is I wanted to do it then, and I want to do it again right now.

  Like the creep I am, I stand there, feet away, and watch her sleep. She’s so at peace, so fucking perfect, it’s insane. I wonder for a half-second what it would be like to have her as mine. As soon as the thought enters my mind, I shut it down.

  I’m Damon Rossi. I don’t do love. I don’t do mine. Nothing lasts forever in the world I live in, and Keira is too weak to survive it.

  But she’s damn nice to look at. I don’t know how long I stand there, staring, watching every breath that fills her lungs. The sudden ringing of my phone pulls my attention away from Keira, and I swear the damn ringtone has never been so fucking loud. Kiera practically jumps from the recliner, the blanket covering her moments ago hitting the floor. Her movements make me jump a little too.

  I don’t even check the caller ID. I hit ignore and stuff the phone back in my pocket. Whoever it is can wait. I have more important things to assess to right now.

  “I have business to attend to at the club. Let’s go.”

  Keira eyes me cautiously, as if I’m a rabid animal that could attack at any given second.

  “Why do I have to go? I don’t like it there.” She frowns, still breathing heavy from being scared by my ringtone.

  “This shit again?” I roll my eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you how this works? I order you to do something, and you fucking do it! No questions asked, no comments, no whining—a whole lot of actually fucking doing what I tell you.” Fire burns through my veins. I’m not used to this shit, to people not doing as they’re told, when they’re fucking told.

  I take a step toward her. This time, she doesn’t scurry away from me. “I don’t give a fuck what you like or don’t like, Keira. If you want me to protect you even a little, you will start to listen to me. Now, put your fucking shoes on before I drag you out of here barefoot.” She visibly gulps, but doesn't say anything. In fact, for fucking once, she listens.

  We drive back to the club in silence. I watch her out the corner of my eye and can tell she’s nervous by the way she fidgets with her hands in her lap.

  A tiny smirk pulls at my lips. At least she's not as terrified as yesterday. I ponder if that's a good or bad thing. Part of me knows she would be better off being scared of me—like the rest of the people in my life.

  The neon lettering of the Night Shift sign comes into view, and I tell myself I need to leave all my personal shit at the door. This is my place of business, and that’s all it can be. People need to view me as the boss and nothing else. Weakness is not an emotion I can afford to show—not for anyone.

  “Why a strip club?” she asks, breaking the silence as I pull into my parking spot. What a dumb question. Why not a strip club? What else would I open up? A fucking bakery? I ignore her question and cut the engine.

  “Listen up, doll. We’re going to go in there, and you’re to follow behind me like I have a fucking leash around your neck. If you don’t, I might actually put one on you. You are not to talk to anyone. Don’t even make eye contact with anyone too long. Then you’re going to sit on the couch in my office and look pretty. Don’t fucking talk to me, and don’t fucking talk to anyone who comes in to do business with me. You got all that?”

  Her brown orbs blaze with fire.

  Her anger makes my cock hard. I want to see her angry more.

  She opens her perfect mouth to say something, but stops when I hold my finger to her plump lips. “I give an order…you do it! Nod if you got it.”

  She nods slightly, her lips trembling. There's still heat simmering in her eyes, but it's significantly diminished.

  I turn, dismissing her, and get out of the car, waiting for her to climb out so I can lock it. Without looking back, I march through the back door and walk my usual round through the club. I know Keira is directly behind me, following like a lost puppy. I can feel people
staring at us. They're probably wondering who she is and why the fuck she’s following me around.

  When they figure it out, maybe they can let me know. I don't even know why I still have her here with me.

  When we finally get to my office, she sags down onto the couch and looks up at me with her beautiful brown eyes.

  She looks a little pale. Her eyes are tired, and the way she's laying against the leather couch, she appears worn out. Suddenly, I wonder if she’s had anything to eat all day.

  “Have you eaten?” I huff. I’m still not used to caring for anyone but myself, so it seems strange to ask such a question.

  “You told me not to touch anything.”

  My face falls, and fills with shock. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  I pick up the phone and call the bar. Candy answers on the second ring, her sultry voice filling the receiver. “Night Shift.”

  “Candy, bring us some food…whatever the fuck the special is, and a beer. I need a fucking beer.” My eyes lift to Keira. “Maybe bring Kiera a drink too. Whatever fucking girls drink.” I slam the phone down, ending the call before she can respond.

  My eyes find Keira's. Seeing her pale skin angers me so much. Why the fuck wouldn't she eat? Why wait until she’s sick?

  I shove the thoughts away before I blow my top, and busy myself with looking at pictures of possible new girls, but my eyes keep wandering back to Keira sitting on the couch like she’s at the dentist’s office waiting to be seen. Wearing yoga pants, sneakers, and a baggy white shirt, she couldn't look any more out of place—yet she still looks hot as fuck.

  I don't understand my infatuation with her. She makes my blood run hot. Her inability to listen turns me on more than I care to admit.

  A knock sounds against the door, and a moment later, Candy walks in, bringing us our food. She sets a bottle of my favorite beer in front of me and hands Keira some light pink colored drink with a little umbrella on the rim.