Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The screen door slammed behind Hatchet, and I smacked Merrick’s arm. “Why are you such a dick?”
“How am I in the wrong here?” Merrick asked, exasperated. He carefully folded Hatchet’s cut and set it on the counter.
I shook my head. Were all men this dense or just my brother?
“I can date whoever I want. I can fuck whoever I want. Sure, we didn’t want you to find out like this, but you’re overreacting.”
“I’m overreacting?” Merrick shouted. “I come home to find my baby sister in bed with my best friend. I think I’m just reacting.”
I crossed my arms and scowled. “I’m not open to debating my relationships with you. We’re together. Get over it. Or don’t. But it’s going to make for a shitty Thanksgiving.”
“It’s cute you think this’ll last until Thanksgiving,” he said with a dark chuckle.
“That’s enough,” Kenna warned, stepping between us and putting a palm on Merrick’s chest. “Let’s put a pin in this conversation for now. I think you both need some time and space.”
“Whatever,” Merrick grumbled as he stormed out the door toward the clubhouse.
“Well, that was fun,” I said, shooting a weak smile at Kenna. I slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter, tracing the edges of Hatchet’s abandoned cut with my finger.
“So, you’re in love with Hatchet?” Kenna asked, as if the grenade I’d thrown hadn’t resulted in shrapnel piercing through the two men I cared about most. No judgment. No doubt. Just simple curiosity.
I sighed. “Yeah. I am.”
Kenna grinned. “I’m happy for you both. He’s a good man. He’s grown up a lot just in the time that I’ve known him.”
“I think watching you and Merrick fall in love made him want to.”
Kenna nodded. “He was so understanding about that. He gave us grace when he could have been angry. That’s why I’m so disappointed with Merrick right now.”
I grimaced. “I mean, how he found us wasn’t ideal.”
“Oh, shit. Was it that bad? What percentage of clothing were you wearing?”
“Um, does a sheet count?” I quipped.
Kenna cackled. “Yeah, the conversation probably would have gone slightly better if you’d started it with clothes on. I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks. I’ll probably stay with Hatchet after my shift. Give Merrick some more time to calm down.”
Kenna nodded. “Probably a good idea. He’ll be fine. They both will. Reaper says they’ve always butted heads. It’ll probably come down to them punching it out, and then he’ll get over it.”
I offered Kenna a small smile. “I hope so. I hate that I’ve come between them.”
Kenna moved in and hugged me. “I get it. I know exactly how you feel. It’ll all work itself out.”
My mind whirled as I peeled out of the driveway in my truck to head to work. I would’ve never asked, but Hatchet gave up his cut for me. No hesitation.
But the club was in my blood, too, and I didn’t want him to lose our family for love. I wanted him to have both.
I parked my truck at the edge of the lot and steeled myself for the long shift ahead. My phone vibrated, and I pulled it from my pocket.
Hatchet: I love you. I’ll drop by in a few hours.
I responded with a heart before shooting off a text to my brother.
Me: When you’re ready to stop being a dick, let me know. And I expect you to give Hatchet his cut back.
Merrick: After I strip the patch, I’m going to use it for target practice. You’re lucky he won’t be wearing it when I do.
I loved my brother, but his overprotective tendencies grated on my nerves. I understood why as a teenager, but he needed to stand down now that I was an adult.
Me: This isn’t that big of a deal. Would you rather I marry Luca?
Merrick: No. This isn’t about love. It’s about the code.
Me: Stop with the club bullshit.
Merrick: Dad didn’t want this life for you.
Me: Well, Dad’s dead. He doesn’t get a say. And neither do you.
I reached across my truck to grab the bag of cookies I’d lifted from Kenna’s kitchen counter on my way out. A rush of breath left my chest as a hard body pressed into me from behind.
“It’s time to take you home.”
Before I could respond, a sharp pain pierced my neck, and darkness swallowed my consciousness.
I groaned as I came to, my joints stiff as I shifted against the concrete floor. I opened my bleary eyes and swore as they adjusted to the bright overhead lights. I shifted my gaze, following the soft thud of Luca’s dress shoes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked as I fought the zip ties that bound my hands.
“Is that any way to greet the man you’ll marry?” Luca’s tone was smooth. Confident. Disgusting.
“I’ll never marry you.”
He smirked. “My mother is planning the wedding now. That’s the only reason I haven’t punished you yet. Don’t want bruises in our photos. What will our grandchildren think?”
I pulled against the zip ties again as he continued.
“Italy is beautiful this time of year. We’ll have a cliffside reception on the coast. Remember? I’ve shown you pictures of it. You said you wanted to visit. Where would you like to honeymoon, amore mio?”
“There won’t be a honeymoon. I’ll throw myself off the fucking cliff if I have to.”
Luca tsked, shaking his head. “Always so dramatic. You have until we land to get your attitude out. You won’t disrespect me in front of mi famiglia.”
Land? The question must have shown on my face, because Luca grinned. He pulled me to my feet, his arm steadying me as I swayed. He half-carried me through the door. My stomach tightened as I saw the private jet before us, parked outside the hangar like it was ready to go at a moment’s notice.
“You won’t be able to get me past customs.”
Luca tossed me a sinister smile. “I have your passport. A forgery, of course. It says you’re my sister to make it easier for me to get you into the country. I have paperwork that says you’re mentally unstable, in case you decide to cause a scene. I’m a doctor. No one will question me.”
“Why are you doing this?” My voice wobbled, and I pressed back tears.
Luca ignored me. “We’ll leave as soon as my pilot arrives. Let’s go back inside.”
He walked toward the private hangar as if I’d follow him. On impulse, I turned and began to run, praying I’d get far enough away before he noticed. That someone, anyone, would see me.
I chanced a glance over my shoulder as I heard his thundering footsteps behind me.
“Porca puttana,” he swore.
He shoved my shoulder when he reached me, and I flew to the ground. With my hands bound, I had no way to break the fall, and my forehead skidded against the pavement. Dark spots bloomed across my vision with the impact. I struggled against him as he pressed a knee against my lower back.
“Cazzo! Get up.”
He yanked me to my feet and wrapped one arm around my rib cage to pick me up.
The world tilted as the sudden movement sent a wave of pain and dizziness through my skull.
I fought hard, kicking and wrenching my bruised body to try to escape his grip.
I started to release a shrill scream, hoping someone would hear me, but he pressed a palm to my mouth to muffle the sound.
I bit down on the fleshy meat of his hand, and the taste of copper bloomed across my tongue as I broke skin.
“Stronza,” he swore as he dropped me to the ground. The toe of his boot met my rib cage in a hard kick. I wheezed at the impact and curled inward as the pain radiated through my body.
“Behave,” he ordered as he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me back into the hangar as I fought him like a feral cat, all claws and snarls.
We returned to the small office in the back.
He examined my pupils with the flashlight on his phone and shook his head.
“You may have a small concussion, amore mio. And I’ll need to clean these scrapes. You shouldn’t have run.”
Luca rustled through the drawers in the room and sighed. “We may have to wait until we board the plane. I don’t see anything here to help you.”
He dialed a number on his phone. It rang several times before going to voicemail. He dialed it again. When the message replayed, he hung up and swore. He searched through his contacts and placed another call. This time, a voice answered.
“Where’s Peppe?” he growled.
I couldn’t make out the words on the other side of the line, but it clearly wasn’t the answer he wanted.
“Then get someone else out here.”
More apologies sounded from the other line.
“Unacceptable. We need to depart today.”
His face reddened as he heard the response.
“Fanculo! We can’t wait until morning. Call me as soon as you find someone else.” He slammed the phone to the table and glared at me, as if it were my fault.
He lifted me off the ground and sat me in a chair.
“You should let me go,” I pleaded. “I’ll forget this ever happened. Find a nice, obedient Italian girl. You don’t want me.”
Luca ignored me, pulling a rope from a bag in the corner and wrapping it around my body and the chair.
“We might not have a pilot until morning. I need to get us something to eat and drink.” He grazed his fingers across my face, and I recoiled. “I’ll grab something to clean these cuts, too.”
I jerked at the ropes but knew it was hopeless. He strode out of the room without a backward glance.
In the silence of the hangar, my shallow breaths broke the deafening silence. The stale air with its metallic tang of oil choked in my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut, aiming to quiet my pulse.
I’d enjoyed Luca’s possessiveness when we’d first started dating.
It seemed like passion then. Fiery and flattering.
His attention felt like love bordering on obsession, like the romance novels I’d kept hidden under my bed as a teenager.
The way he always wanted to know where I was, who I was with, seemed protective.
And his single-minded focus on getting what he wanted—the best surgeries, the reservations no one else could get, me—looked like dedication.
Now I saw it for what it really was.
Luca didn’t want a partner. He’d never wanted me to be his wife.
He wanted ownership.
And, when my rejection made his entire house of cards collapse, he wanted victory.
That he’d planned this, that he’d taken the time and effort to buy a forged passport and falsify medical documentation, horrified me.
I couldn’t board that plane, because getting out of a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language, without a passport, would be near impossible, especially knowing he’d have security on me twenty-four-seven.
The old wooden chair creaked as I shifted my weight. The rope dug into my ribs, but Luca—always overconfident—had left my legs unbound. I scootched the chair around, looking for anything that could help me escape.
My head throbbed as my eyes searched the room. The sides of an old filing cabinet were too smooth. The fire extinguisher could be a useful weapon once my hands were free, but it wasn’t helpful at the moment.
I glanced down and noticed the jagged edge of steel on the legs of the old desk. I grimaced at the rough, rusty texture.
“I’m going to need a fucking tetanus shot after this,” I grumbled.
I lined myself up with the desk and braced my legs against the steel. I pushed myself backward and winced as I hit the ground. I tightened my core and shifted, using momentum to turn to my side.
I’d hoped the fall would break the chair, but the sturdy wood held tight.
I scooted back and pressed the zip ties against the sharp edge of the desk leg.
I started to saw, sweat sliding down my spine as I made tiny, desperate movements to free myself.
The ties bit into my flesh, and the movements turned my skin raw.
But I didn’t stop. Finally, the plastic ties snapped against my skin, loosening their grip.
A door creaked open and closed, and footsteps echoed in the hangar. Not free yet, but so fucking close. While my wrists were free, the zip ties still rested on them, and the rope still held me in place against the chair.
Panic shot through me as Luca approached. He sighed as if he were disappointed.
“You need to stop acting so desperate.”
“You need to stop acting like a psycho,” I spat.
Luca squinted as he loomed over me. “The new pilot will be here in an hour,” he said as he moved me and the chair upright.
I bit my lip and held my hands together, hoping the zip ties stayed in place. The small advantage gave me a sliver of hope.