Twenty-Seven
TWENTY-SEVEN
The Spanish Inquisition I endured from the ladies was cake compared to the growls and narrowed looks I got from Dagen’s uncles. My heart was pounding in my ears and beads of sweat gathered at my hairline. If it wasn’t for Vaughan and his friendly disposition, I would have been shit on a shingle.
Now I stand on a private tarmac getting ready to board Luca Amato’s private jet that will take me back to Mississippi. The difference between billionaire’s and millionaire’s is great.
When he offered to fly me home, I protested about it for about five minutes before Luca said there would be no more discussions on the matter. And when the rich Italian with possible mafia ties insists on something, you just go with it.
Dagen had already told me she would bring me, but once again, Luca offered his chauffeur. And with that, Dagen said she’d accompany me and Vaughan thought it would be more time for us to talk about cars and bikes. So here we sit, me stuck in between the two of them, talking to Vaughan about visiting my shop and wishing I had time alone with Dagen. Who knows when I’ll get to see her again.
“Whenever you’re ready, just let me know. I’ve got a room for you.” Vaughan shakes my hand with a pat on the shoulder and smiles.
“I’ll hold you to that, Hendrix. Thanks, again, for taking care of my girl. I really appreciate it.” Vaughan slides out from the back seat and I follow.
Dagen steps out behind me and I offer her my hand. “Sure thing, Vaughan. And thank you. It was a pleasure to meet your family.”
I shake Vaughan’s hand with a big smile on my face, figuring I need to soften the blow as much as possible when Dagen talks to him about us. I told her that we should do it together, but she said she needed to be alone with him.
An attendant stands at the top of the stairs leading into the private jet, and I take a look at her knowing it’s time for me to go.
“Dagen, stay away from light poles,” I joke and pass her a wink.
She laughs, sadly, with moisture building in her eyes. I lift my hand and give them both a short wave, hoping the longing in my eyes for Dagen isn’t too visible to Vaughan. Hefting my bag on my shoulder, I turn and begin the walk to the plane that seems impossibly far. Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, a voice stops me in my tracks.
“Hendrix! Wait!” I look over my shoulder and see Dagen break free from her father’s arms and come sprinting towards me.
Fuck it . If he’s going to hate me, a ready jet seems like the best getaway option.
I drop my bag and turn to her just as she launches into my arms. With my hand on her head and her legs around my waist, I kiss her incredibly inappropriately in front of her dad. I hold her tight to me and her hands bracket my face, pulling me to her like I might fade away if she doesn’t.
When we separate, our foreheads press together and we breathe each other in.
“Your dad is going to murder me, little mouse.”
“I won’t let him,” she whispers then drops her legs. “Travel safely, Mr. Wolf.”
A small tear rests on the corner of her eye and I swipe it away. “I’ll call you tonight?” She nods and I give her one last kiss. “Be good, little mouse.”
I reach down and pick up my bag and take a glance at Vaughan who stands there with his hands balled into fists and his face red with anger. I hurry up the stairs and see him arguing with Dagen, his hands shaking and his words coming fast, just before the door closes.
I wonder if Mr. Mafia will let me take his jet for a second ride to save my little mouse if she needs rescuing.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I tell Danté, as I drop inside his car.
He was my third option since Mal has parent-teacher conferences this evening, and Kins had a lot of work to make up for after missing so much to be Dagen’s personal tour guide. As much as I didn’t want to, Danté was my last choice with Miss Shirley running the shop.
“Yeah,” he grunts and speeds away. “So you drove all the way to Texas just to see your houseguest home, then get flown back in a private jet. Quite a perk. I wish I had known about that. I would’ve tried harder.”
“Don’t fucking start, D. What the hell is your problem? Are you seriously that pissed off, because she chose me and not you? Grow the fuck up man.”
His tires squeal as he pulls on the expressway and slams down on the gas. “You think I’m pissed because your little rich girl decided to fuck you and not me?”
“Watch your goddamn mouth when you speak of her.” My blood boils and if we weren’t going eighty on the freeway, I haul off and ring his bell.
“Oh-ho. Did someone get attached? What an interesting development.”
“I am sick of your attitude, bro. You’ve been acting like a little bitch, all because you got turned down. Setting up that shit with Soria. Fuck you, Danté. You’re supposed to be my brother, but you’ve done nothing, but stab me in the back.”
“Oh yeah, brother . You weren’t acting like one, ditching your family for fresh pussy.”
“Get off the fucking freeway. Now!” I’m going to beat his ass on the side of the goddamn road and not feel any type of way about it.
He cuts across all the lanes of traffic, practically hitting cars along the way, and speeds down the exit ramp. He screeches to a stop in the parking lot of a convenience store, and I jump out of the car, rushing over to his side.
“I told you to watch your goddamn mouth,” I growl.
“You gonna fucking hit me? You really want to fight your brother? The only one who’s been there for you. Long before some bitch.”
Sirens blare in my head and my vision blurs. Rage courses through my veins and the adrenaline surges. I cock my arm back and throw a hard punch straight to his face.
His head flies back and he stumbles. I get my hands up, because I know he’s mad as a bull and will fight right back. He gathers himself then comes right at me.
I match him punch for punch, throwing an elbow when he comes at me from behind, and kneeing him in his ribs when he folds over. He charges for me, ramming his shoulder straight into my gut and we both fall to the ground. We start grappling, cuts piling on top of cuts, and skin getting scraped by the rough gravel.
I don’t know how long our fight lasts, but I know it’s long enough for a crowd to gather and for the cops to pull up. This time there are real sirens blaring and it takes several of them to pull us apart.
I spit at Danté when they yank the two of us away. Blood drips into my eyes and I see a large cut on his cheekbone.
“Calm down. Now. Do not resist.” The officer holding me yells and slams me onto one of their cars.
My arms are twisted painfully behind my back and I feel handcuffs slap on my wrists.
“Fuck you, D. You’re not my brother. Stay the fuck away from me.”
Danté tries to get away from the cops and he gets wrestled to the ground, a knee jamming into his neck. “Go to hell. Picking some chick over your family.”
His words are choked and I’m barely able to understand him. He gets cuffs that match mine, then he’s lifted and thrown in the back of a car. I get tossed into another and my chest heaves with exertion. Blood continues to drip down my face and I hang my head to see how it stains my white t-shirt.
I curse myself for not being able to control my temper. But hearing Danté talk about Dagen like that lit the fire keg that exploded in me.
An officer sits in the passenger seat and begins typing away into the keyboard that extends from his dash. After calling something in on his CV and speaking with the other police officers, he speeds off towards the police station where I’m booked and thrown into a cell where I remain for hours.
I never get to call Dagen to let her know I’m home and that I’m thinking of her. My one phone call goes to the only brother I have left. Apparently Danté makes him his one call, too. Fucking great.