Chapter 15
Fifteen
Con
“ I f you don’t catch up to that cab, the next bullet out of my gun will be for you.”
When Laila’s call came in about fifteen minutes ago, I thought it was another nude picture to tease us with.
When her scared voice came through the speaker followed by a man who can only be one person, we all dropped our business with the men of Genesis and came running.
“We can’t lose her. We need to get to her.”
Chicago traffic at this hour is murder. Everyone is getting out of work. We arrived in time to see her stepfather shove her heaped body into a taxi and zoom into traffic.
“Con, you either shoot the driver or make him go faster. Two options, brother. I will not lose her.” Dante’s knife is in his hand. Instead of rolling the blade of his knuckles he has it tucked into the palm of his hand ready to strike.
“Calm the fuck down. She needs you to be sane, not randomly killing innocents,” I answer him in our native language.
I press the muzzle of my Heckler and Koch P30L into the driver’s temple. “You heard the man. Press the gas and don’t stop until you’re riding their ass.”
A lot of people in my world like the flashy guns with golden inlaid grips and shit. Me? I go after the firepower and the fifteen-round magazines. I need endurance, not glamor.
“Ye…yes…yes, sir.” The cab driver stammers through his reply but finally gets the message. Why it took me twice to tell him I will never understand. When three heavily-armed bratva get in your fucking taxi and give an order my best advice is to listen.
There are stupid fucking people in this world.
We weave around drivers, catch a corner, and come to an abrupt stop about a quarter of a mile down a blocked street. The cab driver is mumbling something but I’m already out of the car and moving through traffic.
Dante throws bills at him for his efforts but since he didn’t deliver what I needed I don’t give a shit if he gets paid or not.
“We can’t lose her.” Dante comes shoulder to shoulder with me sounding like a broken record, but I hear him.
“There.” Bastian narrowly misses the front end of a BMW as we eat up cement getting to Laila. He raises a leg and slides over the hood and keeps running.
“One block down. They took a left.”
“I see it.”
We pound pavement.
Horns go off and brakes squeal. None of us let up until we reach the street where the asshole took her down. When we come to the head of the side road, there’s no cab in sight. Only a dead-end alley that is about half a mile long. It stretches down the back end of a handful of bars and nightclubs.
“Looks like we are going hunting.”
Laila
M y baby.
My baby.
My baby.
I chant the words over and over in my head to help me keep my focus where it needs to be for me to survive this lunatic.
Pain ricochets from my shoulder to my spine and then back again. I’ve never felt like I am being cut in half with a lightsaber before—obviously—but it’s like a blade of white-hot fire is slicing through me.
And. It. Fucking. Hurts.
I scream and grit my teeth as I am thrown into the back of a taxi. We peel out of the alleyway and tear down the busy street.
“You fucking raging fucking lunatic!” I kick out and my stepfather catches my heel from the front passenger side. He twists my ankle and shoves my foot back.
The fucking pain. Excruciating. Holy fuck! That hurts!
I kick again and this time the edge of my heel catches him in the chin. Not enough to knock him out but enough for me to pull the handle to the door.
I almost escape when the taxi comes to a momentary stop in traffic.
I’m dragged back into the moving car and the door slams. My stepfather leans over me and issues some kind of instructions to the driver. We swerve, speed up, and then grind to a halt.
My stepfather is so busy shoving me into the floorboard he doesn’t realize he’s left the gun he’s tucked into the waist of his pants within my reach.
I reach, aim, and fire. Glass shatters behind him as I throw open the cab door and dash inside a building. It’s grimly dark at first, but it’s the pounding of music and the stench of stale beer that makes me feel like my luck has turned.
And it’s empty. It must just be opening. My fingers tremble around the gun in my hand. I dodge behind the bar just as my stepfather rushes in behind me.
I fire off a round into the corner of the ceiling and hope I didn’t hit anyone.
Please. Please. Please.
“Missed, little prey, but now I know where you are.”
I can see him walking my way clutching his shoulder. The first bullet must have gone through him before entering the windshield. Too bad I missed his head.
My chest constricts impossibly tighter the closer he comes. He can’t touch me. Not again. He gets his hands on me and I’m dead and so is my baby. I know it.
I shove to my feet, aim down the barrel and this time I don’t stop firing until I can breathe in fresh air again. Bullets ping off metal and glass and bury inside cement. Maybe flesh. His flesh? I don’t know and I don’t look behind me to find out.
I throw open the door I ran through only a moment ago. And I’m stopped in my tracks. It’s like I run into a brick wall. Arms tighten around me.
Oh God, his guards .
I’m really dead now. I will die and the men will not even know they are going to be a father. We didn’t even get a chance to talk about all the details like whose child it really is. Do they care? Will they care later on?
I thrash against the hold on me and lash out swinging my arms.
“Let me go, you fucking bastards! I will not go down without a fight!” I seethe with vinegar and fire.
Hands grip my shoulders, my face, and a set of arms pin my legs together. I’m encased in muscle and unable to move.
“Stop, malyshka . Stop, woman. You will hurt yourself.”
I freeze. “Con? Bastian?”
“ Da . It’s us.” Tears, relief, and fear all fight for dominance inside me.
“You can’t be here. He will kill you.”
I whirl around when the back door behind us bangs off the brick wall.
It’s Dante who surprises him. Knuckles meet flesh and I don’t look away as my stepfather falls to the floor clutching at what has to be broken ribs. Blood dribbles down his chin and Dante doesn’t let up pounding on him until he’s breathing heavily. And then Bastian takes over.
And I am not about to stop them. They look to me for confirmation and at that moment I know my men respect me.
I step out of Con’s arms. “How does it feel to be weak and unable to defend yourself, Vincent?”
Dante props him up on his knees. He leans his broken body against a dumpster, his dress shirt bloody and filthy.
Bastian leaves him to Dante who rips his shirt open and starts carving letters into his chest. I turn away unable to stomach the sight of blood on my lover’s hands because of me or the twisted smile on Vincent’s face.
Con takes my face in hand. “This is who we are. If you can’t look at us because of it, we understand. But we will take the stain of his blood for you and anyone else who dares hurt you. Do you understand?”
I lean into his touch. “It’s not that. I just don’t want to see the pleasure in his eyes. He gets off on torture. Even his own.”
Bastian comes up beside me and I take comfort in their warmth.
“Laila Romano, we couldn’t protect you as a child, but we can protect you from this day forward.”
“Stupid bitch liked taking my cock up the?—”
Vincent’s words turn to bloody gurgles as Dante buries his fist into the other man’s jaw.
Instead of shutting him up, the man continues.
I don’t realize I still have the gun in my hand until I have it raised, and the barrel pointed at my stepfather’s face.
My hands tremble. My trigger finger hovers over the lever, but I can’t. I just…can’t. Tears threaten to fall but I refuse to let this man see me cry.
“All the pain you forced me through, and I still can’t shoot you. Maybe I am broken.”
His lips peel back in a bloody smile. “Told you. You liked my cock, you bitch.”
“He’s got to be delusional. He didn’t seem this far gone when mom was alive. Demented, but he always sounded rational, and everything was well thought out. What happened?” I’m not asking anyone in particular but Con answers anyway.
“He’s had a psychotic break from reality.”
“You’ll love your new sisters. Her mother is just like yours. Quiet and submissive. Never asks questions. Her little girls will be just like you. Groomed and ready for their daddy’s dick by the time they hit puberty.”
Bastian swallows me into his hold, blocking everything from my senses. But I know what is happening and I do nothing to stop it.
Despite my husband’s efforts, the gurgling of blood replaces the sound of my stepfather’s voice. I try to push out of Bastian’s hold, but Con is right there stopping me when I finally escape.
“I need to see him take his last breath. I need this! Move!”
“ Nyet, little birdie. Nyet. ”
I lose myself to the tears then and they hold me until the well of water empties.
I feel Dante’s presence when he walks up to us. I see the blood on his hands, the knife. “It will only be us who carry the burden of sending him to hell. When we see him there when our time comes, we’ll have something to do with the next phase of our damnation.”
“Torturing his soul forever sounds entertaining.” Con’s dark humor soothes my soft sobs. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not crying for the death of the evil man who abused me. I’m emotionally wrecked because I didn’t have the strength to send him to hell myself, for finding men strong enough to carry my burdens and to love me despite them.
I know they love me. I don’t need the words. What they did tonight was done out of love.
I turn to Dante and fall into his arms. He’s hesitant at first but I don’t let up until his arms are around me and his forehead is against mine. I pull the other two in, and we stand there breathing each other in.
My hand falls over my stomach.
“He will never hurt another being again. Thank you. But we all know this will cause a wealth of backlash back home. Seattle will be in an uproar.”
“His territory is small, and his strength is nowhere near ours. Let them come. We will be ready.”
I nod. Bastian is right. “We need to call Aster, I guess. Test out how good she is at the whole you slash ’em, we stash ’em routine after all.”
Con is already pulling his phone out. “First you need a doctor.”
Oh my God. I forgot all about being shot.
Bastian peels back the sleeve of my top. My blood is a deeper red compared to the color of red silk. It sticks to me, and I hiss when he peels the material back from the meaty part of my shoulder.
It went right through my tattoo. Shit.
“It’s a flesh wound but it still needs tending. A couple of stitches.”
“Really? It felt like I was dying and being cut in half with a lightsaber.” I hold a hand up. “But seriously, everyone needs to listen for a minute.” I take a deep breath. There’s no going back after this.
“I’m pregnant. Three months according to my calculations. It had to be our first night together or there soon after. I know you don’t want kids, but it’s hard to do anything about that now. I want this baby. Even if you don’t.” I let it all spill out and don’t stop until it’s all out there.
Silence and the sound of sirens off in the distance are all I hear for several heartbeats. That is because they are all busy passing me between them. Lips, hands, and arms are everywhere. Con’s lips crush against mine. Bastian’s kiss is gentler but just as consuming as his brother’s. And then there’s Dante. When his lips glide over mine the last shred of doubt in my mind evaporates into the ether. I forget about the body on the ground behind us and only focus on the good. Only the good. Just the good.
Their hands, their mouths. Their heartbeats.
And most importantly, their love.
Bastian falls to his knees and presses his forehead to my stomach. “For God’s sake. We almost lost you.”
“I thought the news of me being pregnant would send you running.”
“The idea woke us all up in cold sweats. But the reality is we couldn’t be happier.” Dante’s words are firm, unwavering. Con and Bastian are both nodding their heads at their brother’s words.
Relief so profound washes through me. I chew at the inside of my lip and let Con tuck me under his chin.
“You don’t know how happy you have made us.”
“Then there’s something else I need to tell you.” A luxury sedan the color of a ghost pulls into the alleyway and three men step out with long coats and grim expressions.
I don’t care. My men need to hear this. “I love you. I have since that first night.” I look expectantly between all three. “I don’t know how, but I knew that night I wanted more with you. Maybe that’s why I returned the night my mother died. Instinct. Something primal in me that told me I would be safe with you.”
“Our sweet little birdie, you’ve become quite the hunter and didn’t realize it.” Con strokes the underside of my jawline and bumps my chin with the pad of his thumb. “Maybe you were all along and we brought out that primal instinct in you.” His wink does wicked things to my heart.
Maybe he is right.