Chapter Twenty #2
“We met in a different lifetime and found each other again,” my angel explained, her voice filled with happiness.
I didn’t understand it. Just this morning, she was fearful of me, and now, she was vouching for me.
Emily’s gaze softened in understanding, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes into the back of my fucking head.
Women.
My jaw tensed as Emily offered me her hand. “You have my loyalty. On one condition.”
I took her hand in mine, waiting.
Her soft features hardened, fire igniting in her eyes, and I got to see the mafia princess at her worst.
I liked it.
“Cut his fucking head off,” she hissed.
“Are you alright?”
She turned to me, her damp blonde hair hanging down her shoulders. We were still at Tipponi’s Mansion.
Emily and I still had business to discuss, and surprisingly she wanted to get to know Karina more. She invited us to stay on the third level of the mansion, the guest house.
Xander had remained downstairs with the men I just met a few minutes ago.
We explained the rules.
They were no longer working for Charles or Ray Romano.
They worked for me, and if they disrespected Emily, they would have me to deal with. If Emily betrayed me, they were instructed to inform me. After updating Nick, who had just finished cleaning up the late Mr. Donavan’s office, I headed to see my Karina.
The bedroom was tasteful, with high ceilings and warm tones. Too warm for me, but she seemed to like it. Our bags had been brought up, and she was changing into an outfit for dinner. I had caught her in a towel, fresh from the shower, her vanilla scent hitting me like a fucking freight train.
“Col, you scared me,” she breathed, as her hand lowered from her chest.
I seemed to be doing that a lot more than I had liked. “Apologies, Angel.”
She turned back to the clothes she had laid out on the bed. “I don’t know what to wear to a mafia dinner,” she said sheepishly as I approached her from behind. My fingers picked up a chunk of her hair from her shoulder.
“You haven’t seemed to have a problem picking outfits over the last few days,” I noted, ignoring the clothes.
“Yeah, but I actually like Emily. Maybe in the future, she and I could be friends.”
I stiffened. Swallowing, I asked. “The future?”
She whirled at me then, panic filling her eyes. “Don’t. God. Don’t shut me out. I was stupid. Pleas—”
“Don’t you ever call yourself that again,” I growled, taking her head in my hands.
Her eyes were filled with tears, and I worried I'd scared her again.
The truth was…
I was tired of being her villain.
“Don’t ever shut me out again,” she begged.
“Karina, you went into a full-blown panic attack while watching me dismember your rapist,” I reminded her, my words coming out harsher than intended. I let her go, stepping back from her. I ran a hand over my shaved head before resting it at the back of my neck, my jaw jumping.
She should have been running for the fucking hills by now.
“I was having a panic attack because I want a future with you!” she cried. “I want you, Col. I never want this to end! This last week with you felt like a dream, and I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
I stared as I tried to make sure this wasn’t a fever dream. Could she really be saying all those things to me?
“You have been watching me kill people all week.”
“But I have been with you. All I have wanted for the last decade is you,” she whispered.
“Stop,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets as my jaw tightened to distract myself from the pain in my chest. This fucking ache. I loathed it.
She looked away from me, running a hand through her damp hair. “I know that I'm crazy and that I'm emotional, but I can’t shut them off like you can! I can’t—”
Fuck it all.
In a flash, I closed the space between us, capturing her lips with mine. She may be emotional, but fuck, I loved it. She was so honest and open with me. I had been lied to and used all my life. She was the only person who wanted me for me.
Why in the fuck was I struggling to accept that?
She made me feel wanted.
Raw.
Exposed.
That’s what this was. I shouldn’t have brought her to Boston, I shouldn’t have kissed her in my office. I shouldn’t have fucked her.
Yet, I did.
Like a damn drug addict, I couldn’t stop. I wanted more of her. Every single day. I ached to be inside her, giving her the pleasure that she deserved.
Karina Jones should be worshipped every fucking day.
“You call yourself crazy one more time, I will fuck you until my cock is the only thing you feel,” I threatened against her lips.
“I just want you. Despite everything, Col, all I want is you. Let me have you,” she begged, tears in her eyes as I pulled away.
“You’re the only one,” I said, repeating my words from when I stripped her on my desk. She didn’t know what that meant, and perhaps one day, I would have the strength to tell her.
There were so many things she didn’t know, things I could tell her soon, and then there were things she shouldn’t know. About me, the Matthews, the Romanos…this whole damn bullshit game we'd caught ourselves in.
She trusted me, and I was starting to trust her.
I killed in front of her, for fuck’s sake.
Her and I…we could do this.
Her burner phone began ringing, shocking us both. There was only one number that should be allowed to call her, and that was mine. She stilled in my arms, not meeting my eyes.
Letting her go, I rounded the bed to snatch the device off the bedside table.
Caller I.D: Maybe Dean MFing Connors.
My eyes darted to my angel, who was clutching the towel to her chest as it rose and fell rapidly. “Seems I'm being shut out too,” I murmured before answering.
“Dean. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I drawled, turning to face a painting of a city skyline that faced the bed.
The sting of her betrayal hurt worse than the fucking beatings I had taken over the years.
His rough, cocky laugh rang in my ears. “I can’t wait to kill you.”
“That would require catching me first, Connors.”
“Cut the shit, Stevens. Put Kay on the fucking phone,” he ordered.
His words filled my ear, but my eyes wanted to look at her, to see if her eyes were filled with regret or satisfaction.
My jaw tightened. I had been a fool, blinded by her light. I had let myself hope—
Hope was a fool’s feeling.
Hope was what killed Jay Gatsby.
He hoped that Daisy could love him as he wanted to be loved.
He held on to that hope and got shot in the fucking back for it.
Karina was my Daisy.
Everything was so much clearer now.
My head turned to find her sitting on the bed, her bottom lip trembling as she stared up at me. Turning my body to her, I reached out to stroke her jaw.
“Why would I do that?” I taunted the baseball player.
“Her numbers were wrong.”
I expected my blood to run cold at the proof of her betrayal, but logic was ringing in my head. I never told her she couldn’t contact her friends. I was genuine when I said I hoped they would come to her rescue…
I also believed her when she said she wanted to be with me.
You fucking fool.
My eyes held hers as I handed her the phone, my thumb swiping across her swollen lips. Her sky-blue eyes dropped to the phone and up to me.
She was pleading for something I no longer had interest in giving her.
My jaw ticked as I nodded once, letting her know she could speak.
Might as fucking well.
At least this shit was entertaining, right?
“Hello,” she said after putting the call on speaker. I watched her in silence as all her promises vanished into thin air.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes, Dean. What is it?” she pressed, crossing her legs, the towel riding up her thighs. Thighs t I had my head buried between last night.
I would miss the sex.
I would miss her.
“Does he have a gun to your head?” Dean asked.
Not a bad idea, but I couldn’t kill her even if I wanted to.
“Collin would never fucking hurt me, you brute,” she snapped, her eyes flaring with anger.
She was standing up for me, but it was a lost cause. She betrayed me.
He chuckled. The fucking bastard.
“She’s fine, baby girl,” he said, his voice muffled a bit.
My muscles tensed. Gwen was with him. My angel fisted the towel with her free hand.
“Is she alright?” Karina asked. This woman and her heart of light…a fucking drug that drew me in and made me lose sight of things that mattered.
Silence and then, “Kay, you got the numbers wrong.”
I watched as confusion masked her features. “What do you mean? There were eighty girls. That’s—” She looked up to me. “That’s the number I was given.”
No, angel…that’s the number you overheard while standing by my side.
“Can he hear me?” he asked, his voice stern.
“Yes,” she said.
“There are eight hundred—not eighty.”
My stomach twisted as a cold, deadly chill coursed up my spine.
Eight hundred? I snatched the phone from her, mumbled a goodbye to the asshole, and tossed it on the floor.
My hands shot out, and I grabbed Karina’s arms. I dragged her up to me, the towel falling to the floor.
Her naked, soft body collided against me, but the rage in my body didn’t give a shit.
“You have been a naughty girl,” I seethed, grabbing her jaw.
“Col,” she whimpered.
“I trusted you!” I barked, spinning us so I could pin her against the wall.
She let out a breath from the impact. My hand dropped to her throat, just resting there. I could never hurt her again.
Not physically.
Her blue eyes met mine.
“I couldn’t sit by and do nothing, Col! I may be just a dumb blonde, but I know what you're doing. You're not only trying to overthrow Ray Romano. You're trying to save those girls—”
“They have been tailing us,” I hissed, baring my teeth.
“We are a team,” she gasped, her hands grabbing my shirt. “That fucking bastard won’t suspect that it’s you leading the FBI to the containers! Don’t you see that?”
I swallowed, bowing my head. This was such a fucking mess, and she shouldn’t be caught in the middle of this. Betrayal or not, Karina couldn’t be involved in this.