14. Chapter Fourteen— Carlotta
Chapter Fourteen— Carlotta
Go slow my ass! I think I scream, but my breath is taken away by the oncoming gust of winter wind.
Beneath my palms, I feel Cassiel’s stomach rumble in a low laugh, his whoop of joy kissing my ears.
I tighten my grip on his waist, nails digging into the feather-down material of his coat, as the world rushes past me in a flurry of homes and store fronts.
The engine rumbles warmly beneath me, sending vibrations through my very being, as Cassiel swerves past cars sitting in stand-still traffic. He just barely runs a red light, ignoring my squawk of protest.
I don’t know if it’s the sheer adrenaline running through my veins, or the close proximity of Cassie’s warm body, but riding Rosita isn’t leaving my body as frozen as I thought she would be.
My head swivels left and right as I watch the streets whizz by in a blur of lights, my death grip on Cassiel’s coat loosening as my heartrate begins to calm down with each passing second.
Grinning, I close my eyes, feeling the wind rush past me, although I’m glad for the helmet keeping my hair out of my face and my cheeks from becoming chapped.
Cassiel and I going so fast, the whole world passing us by, it feels as if nothing can catch me out here; not the death of my brother and father, not the barbed tongue of my mother, not the worries of what is next to come.
Right now, I’m fucking free.
Patting my hands to get my attention, I bat my lids open at Cassiel’s touch, gazing around at the residential area we’ve pulled into.
Rows and rows of tall townhouses sit in neat rows, their roofs blotting out the night sky, their windows lit up golden from the inside. I spot one woman in the uppermost window of house number nine, her eyes meeting mine through the glass before she slides her velvet looking curtains shut.
Easing up on the throttle, Cassiel slows the motorbike down, quieting the engine until we come to a complete stop beside a series of black SUV’s parked perfectly at the curb side.
Jabbing his thumb into a fob hanging from his set of keys, I watch a gunmetal gray garage door attached to townhouse number one hundred and fifteen, begin to rise from the ground with a creak and a groan.
Cassiel walks us—although it’s more of a waddle—across the smooth sidewalk and inside the garage, slotting into a space between another motorcycle, this one spray painted a pretty cherry red color, and a fast-looking orange Ferrari.
I raise a brow, but I don’t say a word.
The less interested I look, the less suspicious Cassiel, Rome and the other members of The Thirteen will be.
Hopefully, if I can agree to become one of them and simply fade into the background silently, they might forget I’m even there. That way, I can count on at least one of them to spill something important, something outside ears should never hear, which could be worth knowing.
Something which could help me solve Cristiano’s murder.
Snatching my hands back from around Cassiel’s waist, I busy myself with pulling the helmet up and over my head, while he stomps his kickstand back into place, ensuring we don’t tip over.
On shaky legs, I stand before Cassiel does, hoping to put a little bit of distance between the two of us.
I don’t get very far; my hip bumps the handle of bright cherry red motorcycle, accidentally jarring the left-hand side wing mirror.
“Shit.” I hurry to righten it, fingerprints smearing over the spotless looking glass in my haste. My reflection peers back at me; cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, but my lips tight with anxiety.
“Getting yourself into trouble already, Princess?” Cassiel says over my shoulder, his body inches away from mine again. In less than a heartbeat, he’s erased the space I’ve created between us.
“No,” I protest, using the bottom most edge of my scarf to scrub. “I—never mind. Sorry, you’ll have to be careful when you take her out. I’ve jarred the wing mirror.”
“Careful when I take her out?” Cassiel repeats. I don’t need to glance at him to hear the smirk playing about his tone. “You worried about me?”
I scoff. “Forget I ever said anything.”
He laughs darkly, hand grazing the side of my body, down to my hip. “It’s not me you need to be worried about.”
I turn at that. “What?”
“The bike.” Cassiel juts his chin in gesture. “She’s not mine.”
I quirk a brow at that. “Whose is she then?”
“Rome’s.”
Glancing backwards at the bike, I resist, just barely, the urge to scratch the meticulous paint job with my sharp fingernails. It would serve him fucking right for keeping me in the dark about so many things and then ripping the rug from beneath me.
Instead, I force a polite smile, it’s waxy feel threatening to slip from my face at any second, like a drip of warm candle wax as it melts down either side. “Thanks for the… ride. I’m glad it was you who came and picked me up. If it we’re Rome, I’d have been liable to punch him first.”
“You’re welcome,” Cassiel chuckles, shoving both of our helmets into the compartment at the back of the motorcycle. “There’s more where that came from. You only need ask, Princess. I’ll be nice and I won’t even make you beg. Well… not the first time, at least.”
My cheeks burn at his blatant inuendo, while my pussy throbs, soaking my panties and my nipples bead up again.
I cross my arms across my chest to throw him off the scent of my sex-starved body, rolling my eyes.
“I don’t beg very easily.”
Raising his brows, Cassiel lowers his face until we’re almost nose to nose. He blinks slowly, gaze dipping down to the shape of my lips and then back up to my eyes.
He grins at the voltage shock that rachets through my body when his large hands land on my hips, squeezing the flesh there and bringing my body into his.
“Are you sure about that, Princess?”
I nod, my mouth suddenly as dry as the desert.
“I’ll give you one last chance to tell me the truth.” His sing song words grate across my ears.
Still, I say nothing.
“You really shouldn’t lie, Carlotta.” Cassiel’s warm minty breath drifts over my Cupid’s bow. “You forget how long I’ve stood outside of that room at Nameless, hearing you beg and scream and whimper and moan.”
Swallowing thickly, I turn on my heel, heading for the first unmarked door I see, before I do something stupid, like kiss the man.
Behind me, I hear Cassiel laugh, his footsteps echoing across the ground, long legs catching me up easily.
“You’re going the wrong way.”
Dropping the doorknob like it’s on fire, I change direction, shoving open the second door and peering down at the dark set of steps.
Unsure, I turn to look at Cassiel, but he’s too busying shoving his black balaclava mask over his head, leaving only two small holes for his eyes and a gap for his mouth, to notice.
He extends a hand, gesturing to the flight of stairs and whatever lies beyond them. “After you, Princess.”