Locked.
Fuck.
Now he’d have to make some noise. He wished they’d thought to use communications equipment so he could warn Farrell, but they’d been expecting more cooperation from Diego in getting them to Sofia. He’d have to kick down the door and trust that Farrell knew what to do from there. He counted down to three in his head, then gave the floor a kick hard enough to send it flying open on the first try.
The room was dimly lit by one small lamp on the bedside table. It looked empty at first, but a moment later he heard a whimper from the other side of the stained, bare mattress. He kept his gun up, just in case, but when he rounded the end of the bed, he saw Sofia up against the corner, clutching the stuffed animal he’d seen in the video, eyes wide with terror. He wanted to soothe her, but he needed to keep them both alive first and foremost.
“Is anyone else in this room?” he asked her.
She hesitated, shook her head, then pointed behind him.
It was almost too late. He was still turning to look when the first bullet flew over his head. He dove to the floor, crawling toward Sofia as more gunfire erupted around him. But it wasn’t just from the hall outside the bedroom, it was from the front of the house, too, which meant Farrell was dealing with the first man.
He crawled to Sofia, and covered her body with his own. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m going to get you back to Isa. Just stay down until I say to move.”
As soon as the gunfire paused, he rose from the floor and returned fire just in time to see Eduardo duck behind the door jamb in the hall.
That fucker.
He fired anyway, just to keep him from entering the room. He was surprised when his fire wasn’t returned, but a few seconds later he heard gunfire from the front yard, and then he understood.
Farrell had dealt with the first man and come after Eduardo in the hall.
Eduardo was on the run.
He scooped Sofia into his arms. She was shaking, and he smoothed her hair back from her head and looked into the eyes that were so like Isabel’s. He kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, I promise. Isabel is right outside. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe now.” He put her arms around his neck so he would have a free hand. “Hang on.”
He moved cautiously toward the door, Sofia in one hand, his weapon in the other.
Isabel stood behind the bushes in front of the house. She said she’d stay in the car, and she had until the gunfire stopped. She thought it was over, and she wanted to be the first person Sofia saw when she emerged from the house.
But then a man stumbled out one of the windows, his arm bleeding profusely. She didn’t have time to move before he barreled into her. They went down in a tangle of limbs, and her gun went flying onto the lawn. The big arms around her held her immobile, and she instinctively kicked and thrashed, her body going into fight mode, remembering the last time she’d been made immobile by a man.
“Stop it, puta,” Eduardo said in her ear, “or I’ll have to kill you on my way out.”
She spotted her gun on the lawn, and stopped moving, her mind trying to work out a way she might get to it. He dragged her back toward the bushes just as Farrell emerged from the house.
“Stop moving,” Eduardo called out, his voice shaking. “I’ll kill her.”
She felt the cold butt of his gun press into her skull. She thought Farrell might stop, or at least slow down, try to negotiate with Eduardo. Instead he kept walking toward them, stalking them like an animal not the least bit afraid of an adversary that was no match for it. Everything seemed to slow down as he raised his weapon. It seemed like minutes before she heard the blast of his gun, as she waited to feel Eduardo’s bullet enter her skull, but it must have been only seconds.
The pressure around her released all at once, something warm and sticky spraying the back of her head. She was paralyzed, unable to even look behind her to see what had happened. A moment later, Farrell was lifting her off the ground, steadying her as she stood on shaky legs. When she looked back at Eduardo, she saw him sprawled in the bushes, blood seeping from a round wound right in the center of his forehead.
In the distance, sirens wailed, but when she turned around to face the house, she saw Luca emerge with something in his arms. Everything else fell away as she rushed toward him, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest.
The bundle in his arms was immobile, her face hidden against Luca’s big chest. Tears were streaming down Isabel’s face when she finally reached them, turning Sofia’s face toward her, praying to any god who would listen that she was alive.
Her heart stopped when she saw that Sofia’s eyes were closed, her face pale and thin. But then her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes, her gaze coming to rest on Isabel. A second later, a small smile touched her lips. Then her tears fell.
“Isa?”
A sob wrenched free from Isabel’s lips and she wrapped her arms around her sister and the man she loved, both of them safe.
Both of them safe.
64
“Can we get hot cocoa and watch the ice skaters, Isa?”
Isabel looked down at Sofia and took her hand as they left FAO Schwarz. They rarely bought anything, but it was one of Sofia’s favorite places in the city, and she and Isabel had passed many happy hours within its magical walls since coming to New York in August.
“Of course,” Isabel said, leading her toward the park. “Button your coat, though. It’s cold.”
It was November now, and she was still getting used to the bite in the air. She breathed in the scent of the city — the cold, the smell of hot metal rising from the subway, the sweet nuts roasting in carts along the sidewalk. It was about as far from Miami as she could get in every way. She loved the noise and chaos, the way everyone walked everywhere and the way they could be both rude and surprisingly kind. She loved New Yorkers for their brashness, their way of speaking plainly and honking their car horns even when it didn’t do any good. She loved the way the buildings kissed the sky, and the way the river and the Atlantic, gray and flinty, came together to wrap the city in its arms.
She tried not to think about Miami, about the course of events that had bought her and Sofia freedom. Luca had tried to tell her something about Diego just last week, but she had pressed her fingers to his lips and kissed him instead, leading him to the big bed in the grand, old apartment they now shared.
She didn’t want to think about Diego.
Sofia was still traumatized, still in therapy. She woke more often than not in the middle of the night, thrashing and screaming from her nightmares. Isabel would slide into bed next to her and hold her tight, and sometimes when she woke in the morning it was to Luca, sitting in the chair next to Sofia’s bed, keeping watch over them both.
She’d never felt safer. Never felt more loved.
They would be okay. She didn’t know exactly what the future held, but she knew Sofia would continue going to school. And Isabel had just taken a job as a gallery sitter downtown.
It was a start.
Her pulse quickened as they turned into the park. She would see him soon, would feel his big arms around her, his hand wrapping hers in security while Sofia drank her hot cocoa and they watched the skaters make graceful circles around the ice rink.
She wasn’t the way she used to be. She never would be. She was like the two ravished paintings she’d brought with them to New York — damaged but not broken.
Stronger for her fight to survive.
And for the love given with tender hands that had healed her.
Luca rubbed his hands together for warmth as he watched for Isabel and Sofia. He’d come from his job as part of the personal detail of Matthew Reynolds, a real estate mogul worth billions. The guy wasn’t exactly squeaky clean, but he wasn’t Diego Fuentes either, and Luca spent his days in dark suits and sunglasses, following Matthew around and thinking about the moment he would be back with Isabel and Sofia. He would do something else eventually — maybe start
his own security company, although he didn’t need the money — but for now the job suited just fine.
He smiled as Isabel rounded the corner, Sofia looking up at her like she thought Isabel was the sun and the moon.
Luca knew the feeling.
Isabel laughed at something Sofia said, and Luca’s heart clutched in his throat.
Damn, he loved this woman. Sometimes he woke in the middle of the night to find her gone from their bed, and he would hurry to Sofia’s room to make sure they were okay. When he found them curled side by side in the big canopy bed Isabel had bought for Sofia, he would lower himself to the chair next to it and watch them, happy just to be in the same room.
“Hey, you,” Isabel said when she reached him. She kissed his cheek. “How are you today, querido?”
“Better now,” he said, leaning down to kiss her briefly on the lips. He ruffled Sofia’s hair just a little, careful not to mess it up. She didn't like that, one of many things he was learning about the little girl who had also stolen his heart. “How was school, kiddo?”
“Fine,” she said. “Except for Hannah Goldman.”
“Oh, yeah? What happened with Hannah Goldman?” he asked leading them to the ice rink.
“She didn’t want me to sit at her table, so I had to find another one,” Sofia said.
“Seriously?” Luca asked, secretly proud of himself for adopting the language he heard her and her friends use. “Well, forget her then. I bet the other table is better anyway.”
She looked up at him. “Do you think?”
He nodded. “You’re there, aren’t you?”
She smiled, and he thought his heart might break in two from the force of it.
They stood in line for hot cocoa while Sofia chattered about school and the skaters and the upcoming holiday.
“You okay, my love?” Isabel asked softly, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He took her face in his hands. “I love you. You love me. And we have Sofia. I’ve never been better.”
She kissed him, and he felt the blood stir in his veins. He pulled away, wanting to keep it PG for Sofia. He wrapped an arm around her waist instead, and Sofia’s tiny, gloved hand slid into his. He was overwhelmed with something he could only identify as love and fear. Now he was like everyone else in the world who had something — someone — to lose: scared, vulnerable.
Willing to risk everything for love.
Looking down at them both, he thought that was just fine.
Epilogue
Diego Fuentes moved through the Brazilian market, adrenaline flooding his body. He’d been on the run since the ill-fated drug shipment in Miami. He’d been more than surprised when Cassano had actually let him go, but the last few days, he’d had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t totally in the clear.
He had some money, though not as much as he was entitled to thanks to his whore of a sister. He was lucky he’d put some aside from the business in the weeks after he’d taken Sofia and fled the house.
He shoved through the crowd, trying to make his way back to his hotel, the only place he’d felt safe since he’d started getting the creeping feeling that he was being followed. But the market was packed, the alleys confusing and labyrinthine. He took a couple of turns, almost positive it was the right way, only to find himself in a more deserted part of the city that he'd didn’t recognize.
He looked around, trying to get his bearings, then hunkered into his jacket and started moving. At least it was daylight. Even in Brazil, no one could be murdered in broad daylight without raising the attention of the police.
Right?
He repeated it to himself like a mantra as he turned into another alley. Was he headed the right way? Back to the beach? If only this place didn’t stink like the hell hole it was, he might be able to smell the sea, use it as a guide. He fucking hated it here, but he’d been too nervous to attempt a move to another country. He would do it soon, he promised himself.
He heard footsteps behind him and picked up his pace, refusing to slow himself down by looking back. The alley was deserted except for him and the person behind him, and he tried to ignore the prickle of fear on the back of his neck. He wished he had a gun, but he’d been too afraid to try and procure one illegally in Rio.
The footsteps grew louder behind him. Were they closer? He couldn’t be sure, but he picked up his pace anyway, his eyes on the end of the alley. If only he could get there before his pursuer reached him.
And how did he know it was a pursuer? It could be anyone. Just another person making their way back from the market. What was he afraid of? He was no coward. He’d run an empire in Miami. Had dealt with some of the most violent men in the drug trade. Why was he letting his fear get the best of him?
The person behind him had almost reached him when he turned around, determine to face him, whoever it was. But he didn’t get that far. In fact, he didn’t even feel the bullet enter his forehead.
Didn’t even feel his body hit the dirty pavement.
The man who stood over him didn’t even pause before moving forward, turning the corner and rejoining the crowd of people returning from the market. It was a beautiful day.
Still plenty of time for a swim.
The End
Start at the beginning of the bestselling Mob Boss Saga and get all three Mob Boss books for $4.99 - a limited time offer!
Read on for a sneak peek of Farrell Black’s story in SAVAGE or get the entire London Mob series for $4.99 - a limited time offer!
If I was Superman, Jenna was my Kryptonite.
Farrell Black is dirty, dangerous, and holds nothing sacred. Growing up on the mean streets of London, he clawed his way to the top of a criminal empire with nothing but sheer force of will and the determination to need no one.
Ever.
Then he met Jenna Carver, and all bets were off — until the day she walked out of his life without a backward glance.
Leaving him was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
As a kid, Jenna knew how people looked at her. Like she was stupid. Worthless. Poor. So she spent her life working to become someone else. Then she met Farrell Black, and their all-consuming passion blew a hole in everything she thought she knew about herself.
Until she was forced to make a terrible choice.
Now Jenna is back in London for her father's funeral, desperate to avoid the one man who can banish her hard-earned reason in favor of red-hot ecstasy. But when her father’s death is tied to an abuse of power at the highest levels, she has no choice but to ask Farrell for help.
As they work together to find answers to a puzzle that could have dangerous implications, desire threatens to undo them both — and forces Jenna to choose between keeping the secret of a lifetime and having the one man who can command her body and soul.
Download the London Mob Box Set and save 50% for a limited time!
Savage
Prologue
Jenna Carver let herself into the apartment with the key Farrell had given her last week. After eight months, she knew only a few things about Farrell Black. One of them was that he didn’t trust easily, didn’t open his heart to anyone. Which is why she’d been surprised when he’d given her the key.
But her surprise had quickly been replaced by fear. She’d made promises to herself, and they didn’t include getting distracted by someone like Farrell Black. Someone who was strong and gorgeous and even kind — to her at least — but who made his living working for some of the most ruthless men in London. The heady combination of lust and love that roared through her body when he touched her was irrelevant, as was the fact that she’d fallen deeply and hopelessly in love with him.
He’d been honest from the beginning, even if he hadn’t gone into detail. He didn’t believe in the rule of law. He was a criminal. He would always be a criminal. According to him, there would always be people who didn’t play by the rules.
And you didn’t stop rule breakers by making more rules.
That
was better left to people like him. People who did the things no one else wanted to do. People who were willing to get their hands dirty.
But she’d seen the result of crime — both organized and otherwise — in the neighborhood where she’d grown up. Drug dealers and pimps and loan sharks didn’t make the world a better place, whatever Farrell wanted her to believe. Her own father had been a janitor most of his life, towing the line even when her mother seemed drunk for weeks at a time. He’d never resorted to crime, but it had been all around them, and Jenna had no intention of living that kind of life. She’d worked too hard. Come too far.
And now there was someone else to think about.
She crossed the expansive loft, taking in the industrial atmosphere for the last time. With concrete floors, exposed pipes, and a sometimes leaky roof, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. But Farrell insisted he liked the place, and somehow she’d grown to like it, too. Her eyes landed on the big bed in the middle of the room, the sheets still rumpled from their lovemaking the night before, a vibrator sitting on the nightstand. She couldn’t stop the images that flashed through her mind.
Farrell’s head between her legs while he lapped at her sex until she cried out in ecstasy.
The expression of ownership in his eyes when he drove into her.
The feel of his hands on her hips before he invaded her from behind.
The memories caused a flush of heat to rise to her cheeks. She’d never done with anyone the things she did with Farrell. Never said the things they said to each other in the heat of their passion.
[2016] Muscle Page 24