Becoming His Pet

by Stone, Measha

  “It’s in, you can turn the audio on now,” Gary spoke as he went back to the elevator.

  “What if they actually eat the pizza? They’ll see the mic,” Greg asked.

  John shook his head. “They won’t eat the pizza.”

  Greg wouldn’t mind having some of John’s confidence at the moment. The longer it took to get up there, the more horrifying the scenarios playing in his head became.

  “Who was at the door?” Bernie’s voice came through.

  “Pizza guy.”

  “We didn’t order a pizza.”

  “I know. They must have written down the wrong address and they delivered it,” the female said. “Maybe Elenora would like it?”

  Greg held his breath waiting for Bernie’s response. She was there, but was she hurt?

  “No. Mr. Smith will be here any minute. He’s not going to want pizza sauce all over his property. Just leave it in the kitchen. Then go back to her room and get her ready. She won’t need clothing but brush her hair. Throw on some lip gloss or something. And if her face is all puffy from crying, put a cold compress on it.”

  Greg’s gut twisted.

  “Who’s Mr. Smith?” Blake asked in a hushed town.

  “I have an idea, but I’m hoping I’m wrong. Here.” John handed the phone to Greg and pulled out a second device, tapping away on it.

  “I can’t hear, they must have moved away from the box,” Greg said.

  “Okay, here it is. Yeah. We had a case last year that involved a girl gone missing. We recovered her, but she couldn’t give us any information on who took her. She just called him Mr. Smith.”

  “So, you think he works with Bernie, a client?”

  “He referred to Nora as property. I would bet Mr. Smith is the one Bernie’s trying to sell her to,” John said.

  Blake put his large hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Don’t run off. Wait for Gary to get back and we’ll get organized. You can’t just run up there with your gun waving around.”

  Greg looked at his foot, bandaged and stuffed in a fucking orthopedic boot. He wasn’t running anywhere.

  Gary climbed into the back seat. “Okay. What’d I miss?”

  “Well, she’s definitely up there,” John answered.

  “From what I saw, there’s just the one main entrance. I’m sure there are fire escapes, but I didn’t see any other elevators in the building, so I don’t think he has a private one from his own condo.”

  “Do we have time to get more men? Put them on the fire escapes?” Blake asked.

  “No. I want to get up there now. Who knows what he’s done to her already or what will happen when Mr. Smith gets there. Surprise attack, it’s really our only option right now. We go up and when the door opens we rush in. It didn’t sound like other people were up there. Maybe he only has the woman,” Greg pressed. Waiting meant she’d have more chances of being hurt, left alone, and scared.

  “Or his guards were just not talking,” John snapped.

  “What do you suggest then?” Greg asked.

  John shook his head. “We don’t have time to wait for more men to get here, and they’re working cases right now too. We’ll go up, but you stay in the back, Greg. With your injuries, you’re slow, and you’ll just be more of a liability.”

  Greg’s hackles raised, but he knew they were right. Marching off into battle with a fucked-up foot, shot-up arm, and broken ribs wasn’t going to get him very far. And the mission was too important to fuck it up for his pride.

  After he nodded in agreement, the four men moved into action. Armed with a small arsenal, they marched through the lobby of the building, Gary taking care of the rent-a-cop sitting at the concierge desk before joining them at the elevator.

  “When we get out of the elevator, the door is straight ahead,” Gary told them while adjusting the strap on his weapon.

  The tension built in the small elevator as the men waited for the floor to come up. Greg gripped his gun, clenching his teeth. If anything happened to her, if they touched her, he wanted to kill Bernie his own way. Not a quick shot to the head, but he would have to get to him first.

  The ding of the elevator refocused Greg to the mission at hand and he focused on the doors sliding open. The front door was right there, and it was open. The woman who’d opened the door for the pizza stood in the narrow opening, panic on her face.

  “Are one of you Greg?” she whispered into the hall before checking behind her.

  Greg pushed forward to the door. “I am.”

  “Elenora is in the bedroom. Bernie just went in there with Mr. Smith.” She pulled the door open and waved them in. “Straight down that hall to the right.” She pointed.

  “You need to get out of here, but don’t go far. Wait down in the lobby,” Gary said to the woman, but Greg was already hobbling down the hall.

  John and Blake stepped up, pushing him back again.

  “When we get in there, you have to stay calm,” Blake said with a hushed voice.

  “You realize I’ve been on missions before,” Greg snapped.

  “Yeah, I do, but not one of them was to save a woman you loved. It’s different,” Blake shot back with a shove to his shoulder.

  “The two of you can work out your sibling rivalry when we’re done here.” John poked Greg in the back.

  They came up to the bedroom door.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Nora’s stubborn cheek came through clear. Good girl; she hadn’t lost her spirit.

  “She’s a bit feistier than her mother was. But she looks so much like her.” Another voice, assumedly Mr. Smith, followed.

  “Yes, and I have the report from the doctor for you. Responds well to stimulus. You’ll enjoy playing with her, I think,” Bernie said.

  Greg pushed John and signaled for him to get moving.

  John glanced at Blake then with a nod, he pushed forward, opened the door, and then barged in, guns raised and trained on the two men.

  Greg’s gaze found Nora and air finally entered his lungs. Breath came easier, his heart didn’t ache with every beat. She was safe. And appeared to be untouched.

  “What is this?” Mr. Smith, an old stick figure of man with a pointed nose and white hair sputtered, putting his hands in the air.

  “This is my ride,” Nora said, a smile creeping onto her lips, but Greg could see the fear still on the surface, in her eyes.

  “Fucking bastard!” Bernie stuttered and spit, his face reddening as he glared at Greg.

  “Where are your men?” Mr. Smith demanded. “Why don’t you have men here?”

  Greg wondered the same thing, but he was too busy making his way to Nora.

  “Because selling Elenora Santucci isn’t allowed,” John stated bluntly. “She’s protected by Santinelli. Bernie here doesn’t trust his men not to turn him in to the boss.”

  Greg yanked off his shirt, ignoring the pain in his arm and ribs and quickly covered Nora with it. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

  “You’re okay!” she said, tears falling down her cheeks.

  “In one piece anyway,” Greg said, holding her tight to him.

  John and Blake had the two assholes under control. Greg’s only concern now was Nora.

  “Did they hurt you? Are you okay?” He looked her over.

  “No, I’m fine,” she assured him, though a deep blush covered her cheeks. He’d find out about that later, when the other men weren’t in the room to overhear.

  “You can’t just take them,” Nora said to John. “The police don’t care. Most of them are in the Santinelli pocket.”

  “Oh, we’re not taking them to the police.” John looked at Greg. “You take care of your girl, and let us handle this?”

  Blake had Mr. Smith zip-tied and in his grasp.

  “Yeah.” Greg nodded. As happy as putting his boot through Bernie’s face would make him, he had bigger responsibilities now.

  “I think we should get to a hospital, have you checked out,” Greg said to Nora. />
  “No. Please. Just take me home.” Her wide eyes looked up at him, the plea in her voice real.

  He could check her over himself.

  “Okay.”

  “Gary’s bringing the other car around. He’ll get you two home, and we’ll take these two,” John explained as he shoved a now gagged Bernie from the room.

  “Blake, don’t do anything—”

  “That I can’t live with,” Blake finished for his little brother. “I can live with this. Don’t worry.” He then looked at Nora. “You take care of your girl.”

  Greg nodded and refocused on Nora. “You have clothes here?”

  “Yeah, that woman put them in the closet.”

  “She let us in, told us where to find you quick,” Greg said, grasping at things to say. Normal things. He had too many questions to bother her with yet.

  Nora snorted. “I’ll tell you about her later.”

  Greg narrowed his gaze. There was a lot of information coming his way, he thought. But first he needed to get her dressed and home.

  His home.

  In his bed.

  Because that’s where he kept his things. And that’s what she was.

  His.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I’m not sure about this,” Nora said, climbing out the car. Greg held his hand out for her and she grabbed onto it, needing his touch to calm her nerves.

  “I’m here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and shut her door.

  “It makes no sense that you’d agree to this.” She shook her head. Getting an invitation to meet with Victor Santinelli didn’t exactly give her a warm sense of security. Why would the head of the family want to speak with her, and insist that Greg bring her, if he wasn’t looking to hurt them?

  Greg squeezed her hand. “There’s a lot about what I do that hasn’t made any sense since I met you.”

  She felt the heat spread up her neck but turned away. He’d been so gentle with her since he had rescued her from Bernie. All sweet words and loving embraces. Which were comforting and amazing, but she missed his overbearing dominance. She missed his eyebrows rising when he didn’t like her tone. Now all she got was a small shake of his head.

  “If Victor wanted us dead, he wouldn’t have asked us to meet him. He would have just had us killed.” Greg pulled her closer to him when they reached the entrance to the restaurant. She had no stomach for eating.

  “You’re right.” She took a deep breath.

  “I’m almost always right, trouble. If you’d just remember that we’d have less issues.” He winked at her and pulled the door open for her. She rolled her eyes and walked past him, careful of his wounded foot. He refused to use the armband for his injured arm or the boot the doctor gave him for his foot. He swore his own damn boot was protection enough.

  The restaurant was empty. Nora’s stomach twisted.

  “It’s okay,” Greg whispered in her ear from behind her. “They aren’t open to the public yet.”

  “Oh.” She breathed a little easier. Then he hadn’t cleared the place in order to have privacy for their murder.

  “Greg. Elenora.” Victor Santinelli, a man old enough to be Nora’s grandfather stood up from a table in the rear of the dining room. His arms outstretched, beckoning them further.

  Nora looked to her left and right, trying to find his men. A man like Victor Santinelli wouldn’t just sit alone in a room; anyone could walk in and take him out.

  “I have men in the kitchens, and in the next room, Elenora,” Victor said with a grin. “Smart girl to survey your surroundings. But you should do so with more subtlety.” He shook a finger at her. If he hadn’t been smiling when he spoke she would have thought she’d insulted him.

  “Mr. Santinelli.” Greg shook his hand, then placed his own on Nora’s back, urging her forward a step.

  “Hello.” She managed to keep her tone even, though her fear and her anger still mixed together inside her, tumbling together.

  “Elenora.” Victor gripped her hands between both of his and stared down at her. If she trusted what she saw, she’d think he had remorse in his features, but he was a practiced liar and criminal. She wouldn’t believe him. Nothing he was going to say to them would be true. She needed to remember that.

  “It has been so long since I saw you. Your father, he was a smart man, he kept you from his business. From all of us.” Victor let go of her hand and gestured for them to take a seat at his table.

  Greg held out the chair for Nora and she sat directly across from Victor, putting her hands under the table. It hadn’t felt scary for him to touch her. It had almost felt like a grandfatherly touch.

  “If I’ve met you before, I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” she said.

  “No, you wouldn’t. You were only about two, I think. Yes, right before your mother went missing.”

  She froze at the mention of her mother.

  “You, you knew my mother?”

  “Well, we’d met. Your father didn’t bring your mother or you around very much. He was just a small part of the business back then, a foot soldier. I didn’t see him very much either. He was wise to keep you two away from his work. And after your mother went missing, he kept you away completely. He was a good man. He protected his family and never broke his loyalty to me.”

  “I didn’t know what my father did for work. Other than Bernie, I didn’t have any extended family,” she found herself explaining.

  Victor’s eyes went hard at the mention of Bernie.

  “Bernie was—a disappointment.”

  Greg ran his thumb along Nora’s palm, settling her nerves.

  “What happened to him?” Nora asked blatantly.

  “Nora.” Greg squeezed her hand. “Why don’t we see what Mr. Santinelli wanted to talk about before we start asking questions.”

  “It’s okay.” Victor waved a hand. “You were smart to bring Bernie to me. And his associate,” he said to Greg. When he turned his gaze back to Nora, he softened again. “He’s been dealt with, that’s all you need to know.”

  “I think I’ve had enough of everyone else deciding what I need to know or what I don’t need to know.” Nora pulled her hand free from Greg and pressed her palms to the table.

  Victor’s lips curled at the ends. “You’re right. She’s a fighter.”

  Nora turned to Greg, looking for an explanation.

  “What is he talking about?” Nora demanded.

  Greg gave a quick glance at Victor before he proceeded. “I served with Mr. Santinelli’s nephew last year.”

  A sick feeling crept down Nora’s body. “Was he one of the men that didn’t—” She didn’t finish her question but sank in her seat. If Victor held Greg responsible for his nephew’s death, it could mean bad things for both of them.

  “No. He’s fine. Lives in New York now,” Victor answered before Greg could.

  “When John called me, the last day we were at the cabin, and told me Bernie’s connection to the Santinelli family, I got in touch with Nikko, his nephew. Mr. Santinelli called me. That’s the conversation I think you overheard.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered the question, feeling a sense of betrayal.

  Greg grabbed her hand again. “If I remember correctly, we had something else to deal with at that moment. And you never asked me, you came to your own conclusions before I could explain. And in the moment, I couldn’t remember every conversation I’d had the day before. I was too busy trying to keep you from getting into that SUV.”

  Her face heated at the memory of what they’d done after she’d come into the kitchen after his call.

  “What did you have to deal with?” Victor asked, breaking the tension between Greg and Nora.

  She blinked and looked away. “It was nothing.”

  Greg chuckled. “It was personal.”

  “Why did we leave then? Why bother with Bernie if you knew he was goin
g behind Victor’s back?” Nora asked.

  “I asked him to go along with whatever Bernie’s plan was, but to give me an update the following day. Bernie was never to actually get his hands on you. I couldn’t get a hold of him, and my men were tracking him down,” Victor explained.

  “John and I were able to get to you faster. Mr. Santinelli called his men away. That’s why there wasn’t anyone there that afternoon. No one to stop us from getting our hands on Bernie,” Greg explained.

  Nora shook her head. Even in the crime world there was a hierarch. “You knew what he’d done to my mother.” Nora clenched her hands. She needed to keep her wits about her, keep her temper checked or she wouldn’t get the answers she needed.

  “Your father came to me with his suspicions. I gave him my word I would look into it, but before I could get solid information, Bernie had him killed. But I couldn’t prove it, it was just a gut feeling. I can’t kill a man of his level on just a gut feeling. It looked like Antonio was going to take the heat for it—at least rumor wise. But then you went to the flower shop looking for a job.”

  “I didn’t think he’d know who I was.”

  Victor laughed softly. “Elenora, you look too much like your father with those eyes and that stubborn streak of yours to not be recognizable to someone who knew him. Antonio knew who you were; he gave you the job to keep an eye on you. To keep you safe.”

  Nora sat back in her chair, the wind having been knocked right out of her.

  “It seems everyone around me knew what the hell was going on in my life, except me.”

  Victor’s smile dropped. “Yes. It does look that way. But understand, your father wanted you protected from all of this. He never wanted you to know me, or anyone. Bernie—well, he trusted Bernie.”

  “Bernie said my mother died, was he lying to me?” She leaned closer toward him. Hope burning through her chest, pounding in her ears, while she waited for him to tell her she would see her mother. She wanted to hear these words, needed to hear them. Something good had to come out of all the bad she’d been through.

  “I’m sorry, Elenora, no. He wasn’t lying. That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about when I asked you here.”