His to Possess (Mafia Kingpins #4)

6. Angelo

6

ANGELO

T he look on her gorgeous face is practically comical and I can’t help but laugh.

“This isn’t funny!” she screeches and begins pacing again.

Covering my mouth with my free hand to stifle the laughter bubbling up, I watch her throw her hands up into the air and start cursing under her breath. To my utter delight, she swears like a sailor and is a total spitfire. I swear, this woman is my soulmate.

Now, if only I can get her to release me, calm her down and tell me her real name. Because as nice as Butterfly is, I need something more tangible.

“I’m going to need you to chill out,” I tell her and jangle the metal cuff, “and to take this thing off me.”

When her bright aqua eyes meet mine, I see the hesitation there, but she finally relents, walks over and plucks the key from her jacket pocket. She places the key in the lock, twists it and the cuff pops open. I slide my wrist out and rub it as I study her. Meanwhile, she attaches the handcuffs securely around a belt loop.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. I’m pretty sure it’s the only apology I’m getting, so I accept it with a nod. Plus, to be honest, I’m not all that sorry about any of this. If there hadn’t been a mixup then I never would’ve met this amazing woman who’s making my blood heat and my pulse thunder. Among other things. No doubt about it, she’s having quite the effect on me.

She still looks a little pale. Ever since I mentioned the Five Families, she lost some of her color. But, I figure it’s a good thing. It’s not like I’m going to exact revenge and sic the mafia on her. I probably should let her know that but, before I can tell her, she grabs her gun, shoves it back in the holster I’d glimpsed at her back and lets her jacket fall into place.

“We need to go,” she tells me.

“Where are we, anyway?” I ask, making no attempt to move.

“A safehouse.”

Who has a safehouse? Or even uses that word in their vocabulary? Wow, she really is some kind of shadowy, underworld character. I might be in love, I think with a silly grin.

“Quit it,” she snaps.

“Quit what?”

“Quit looking at me with that dopey smile on your face.”

I swipe a hand over my mouth. She has no idea how much she’s turning me on right now with all her badassery ways.

“Sorry,” I say and tilt my head, still grinning. “You make me smile.”

“Oh, my God, I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving, with or without you.” She spins around on her booted heel and I hop up out of the chair.

“Where are you going? Don’t you think we should talk about what’s going on first? Maybe come up with some kind of a plan instead of possibly running into danger?”

“I’ll show you danger,” she grumbles and punches me in the arm.

“Ow,” I grimace, rubbing my biceps. “You’re a lot stronger than you look. You know that?”

She rolls her eyes in answer. “Only a handful of people know about this safehouse, but…” Her voice trails off and she looks worried. “No one should come looking here.”

“Well, then wouldn’t it be most logical to stay here?”

“I can’t just sit here indefinitely. I need answers and I’m going to find them.”

Yep, she’s a total spitfire and I’m loving it.

“What’s your name?” But, she ignores me and throws the front door open.

“Stay close. You’re not taking the situation seriously and?—”

Her words abruptly cut off and I look over her head to see what shut her up. A big man dressed in all black is approaching us from the opposite end of the hallway and he doesn’t look very friendly.

“Go!” She spins, shoving me hard, and I nearly stumble. “Back into the apartment!”

I hurry back inside and she’s right on my heels, slamming the door shut and engaging the flimsy lock.

“That doesn’t look very secure,” I mutter.

But, she’s already on the move, grabbing the chair I was handcuffed to and dragging it over. She shoves it beneath the door knob to reinforce it then looks around with wide eyes.

“Who is that out there?” I ask with a concerned frown. It’s like I can see the gears in her head turning, trying to come up with an escape plan. Maybe I should be more scared, but I’m not. This shit is exciting—like being in an action movie. I can’t lie; I’m having a blast.

That is until bullets start blasting through the front door. Oh, fuck. Suddenly, shit just got real fast and it’s not quite as amusing and fun as it was before some big dude with a gun was trying to blow the door down.

Butterfly grabs my arm, pulling me into the bedroom with her. She slams the door shut and runs over to the large dresser. “Help me!”

I race over and grab the edge, shoving hard, putting my shoulder into it, and the heavy bureau slides across the wooden floor. We use it to block the door. She rushes over to the window, pushing the curtains aside and unlatching it.

I’m not about to jump three stories, so I hope she has a solid plan. When I reach the window, which is conveniently stuck, I see a fire escape through the grimy glass. Thank Christ. Reaching down, I grab the chipped ledge and heave, doing my best to help her get the window open. After pushing hard, it finally slides up and not a second too soon.

Back in the living room, I can hear the front door crash open and the stomp of heavy boots cross over to the bedroom door. While the beast of a man tries to break this second door down, Butterfly motions for me to climb out the window.

“Hurry!” she says, and I move as fast as I can.

I’d like to think I leaped over the window sill like some kind of action star, preferably Chris Hemsworth or even Pratt, but we couldn’t get the window all the way up, and I more or less end up going face first and dragging my much larger body through the very narrow opening. I wind up falling out, quite unceremoniously, and face-planting on the metal landing.

Damn, they make it look so much easier in the movies.

My heroine is directly on my tail and she lands right on my back, using my ass to cushion her fall. Ask me if I mind? Nope. Not at all.

We both jump up and start hustling down the metal stairs. I can see straight through the grid-like pattern of each step and a wave of dizziness passes over me. Looking straight down at the ground, three stories below, briefly makes me wobble and I pause, grabbing the railing in a tight, stabilizing hold.

“Don’t look down,” she hisses, as though she knows exactly what I’m doing. “Keep moving!”

Pulling in a deep breath, I force one foot in front of the other, jogging down the steps right along with my fearless woman. When we reach the bottom, she heads straight for the garage. I assume we’re going to hop into her Jeep and high tail it out of here. Sounds like a good, solid plan to me, anyway.

When we reach the steel door, she punches in a four-digit code and it swings inward with a loud creak. Then we race across the garage and she unlocks the Jeep. I’m not sure where we’re going, but I don’t care. Anywhere is better than here with that beast chasing after us.

“Buckle up,” she orders and I don’t hesitate, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it into place. I also grip the seat cushion with one hand and place my other on the dashboard. Something tells me this could be a wild ride out of here.

Butterfly/Kitten revs the engine and squeals out of the parking spot. The rubber tires squeak along the pavement and she hits the remote control on the visor. As the door begins to rumble up, the Beast steps into view, gun pointed right at us. Fuck.

“Get down!” she yells, swinging her pistol up. Her window is partially rolled down and she aims at our pursuer, firing off a couple of shots. He quickly returns fire and I’m glad I ducked down because the passenger side window explodes with a loud crack and glass falls inward, bouncing off my back and shoulders.

She spins the wheel hard and I slam into the door with an oomph. Then the Jeep lurches onto the street and she puts the pedal to the floor. I sit back up and shake the shards of glass out of my hair and off my clothes and exposed skin. I really wish I was a little better covered and not in a t-shirt and gym shorts.

“Who the hell was that?” I ask, turning to look out the back window.

“Beast,” she answers. “He’s a fellow bounty hunter, apparently turned assassin.”

Well, I aptly nicknamed him because the man definitely lived up to his codename. Whatever is happening is definitely not a joke and I no longer have the urge to laugh. I understand now why she was so upset earlier. The situation we’re in is dire. Right now, we’re both rattled and it occurs to me that our lives really are in very serious danger. That asshole just tried to kill us. But why? I need to pry some answers out of her sealed lips.

I wonder if I could kiss them out of her? I can’t help but think. Giving my head a hard shake, I force myself to focus on the severity of what is happening.

“Where are we going?” I ask, giving my head another shake. Several small pieces of glass go flying. When she doesn’t answer me, I start getting pissed. “I’m done with one-word answers and clandestine bullshit. You better start answering my questions right now or you can pull this damn car over and let me out.”

“If I do that, they’ll kill you.”

“Why? What did I do?” I demand.

“You’re guilty by association.” She slants me an apologetic look. “Sorry about that.”

“I need answers,” I growl, reaching for the door handle. “And, I don’t care what you say. If you don’t start giving me some then I’m getting out and I’ll take my chances.”

She pulls her lower lip into her mouth, probably debating how to respond, but I’m done. Yeah, she might be hot and this night might have started off as a seemingly fun adventure, but I’m done. The last thing on my agenda is getting shot. I yank the handle and the door opens. I’m prepared to jump out of the moving vehicle, but she grabs my arm.

“Wait,” she says, her aqua eyes big and pleading. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But first we have to get somewhere safe. There are too many people looking for us right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, I slam the door shut and cross my arms. “Fine,” I grumble. “But, at least tell me where we’re going.”

“A safehouse.”

“Well, that last one wasn’t too safe, so how is this one going to be any better?”

I can’t help but be a sarcastic ass. Not knowing what’s going on is making me feel out of control and I’m a guy who likes to be in charge.

“We’re going to my safehouse,” she clarifies. “No one knows about this place except me.”

“Let’s hope not,” I can’t help but add, and she throws me a funny look.

“No one,” she emphasizes. “You’ll be the only one.”

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“Because I never go here and the place is listed under an alias. We’ll be fine.”

“Do your jobs usually blow up into a shitstorm?” I can’t help but ask, sending her a little grin.

“No. I’m blaming you. You must be bringing me all the bad luck.”

“No way. I’m your lucky charm, kitten,” I tell her, and she raises a dubious brow.

“We’re not in a very lucky position,” she tells me carefully. After driving in what feels like circles, probably so she can make sure we aren’t being followed, she pulls the Jeep into a parking spot in a dark alley behind a dreary-looking apartment building.

“Why do you say that? We lost the bad guy and neither of us got shot,” I remind her. “I think that’s damn lucky.”

After turning off the car, she spins in her seat and locks eyes with me. Then she lifts her phone, hits a few buttons and turns the screen around so I can see it. More specifically, so I can see the two names she’s showing me: Butterfly and Angelo Rossi.

“What is that?” I ask curiously.

“It’s called the Kill List.”

Well, shit, that doesn’t sound good.

“This is why you need to stay with me until we get some answers. Because right now, we’re both wanted. Dead or alive. And every bounty hunter and assassin in this city is going to be out looking for us.”