Chapter 2 #2
“Mellie, you guys go. This guy’s drunk enough to try to follow us onto the street. He’ll wind up causing a fight. We were going to call it a night after this round, anyway. I promise I’ll text when I get home.”
“When you get in the Uber.”
“I’m certain Tommy has a town car. He’ll make sure I get home.”
I’m telling the truth about all of this.
I don’t trust this guy not to start a fight if I try to leave.
I know his type. I’m not listening to him and Tommy while I talk to my friends, but I know the guy’s getting more and more pissed because Tommy’s remaining calm.
It’s more antagonizing than it would be if Tommy were shouting.
Where the fuck are the bouncers?
I scan the crowd. Fuck my life. They’re watching and laughing. They won’t do shit to help us.
“Are you really, really certain?”
“Yeah, Annie. Go.”
I hate that I can’t hug them since this is the last time I’ll see most of them, but I can’t. They ease into the crowd, and I watch them head to the door. The moment they’re outside, Tommy’s body language shifts. How he knows they left, and I’m the only one here, I don’t know.
“Shut the fuck up and back the fuck up.”
Tommy crosses his arms, and I can only imagine what he looks like.
The light’s dim, but I can see his shirt strain across his back.
I’m sure his sleeves are tight around his biceps—bulging biceps—and his pecs.
I wonder if he can do that Terry Crews thing where he makes his pecs dance.
I bet he isn’t even flexing them right now.
“Make me.”
“My girlfriend and I are leaving. Move.”
“Make me.”
Is this douche five?
Tommy uncrosses his arms and reaches back for me. It only takes a second for me to realize it’s to wrap his arm around my shoulders and push me down. A bottle sails through the air and over my shoulders. It would have hit me in the head if Tommy didn’t move me out of the way.
At the same time, the asshole who started all of this takes a swing at Tommy, who straight up wraps his hand around the guy’s fist and squeezes.
Shithead screams. Tommy shoves him backward.
We don’t make it three steps before the guy who threw the bottle reaches for me.
I recognize this guy now that I’m closer. He’s mob.
This isn’t a mob bar, per se. But I wouldn’t have come if I knew a Mafioso would follow me here.
If they recognized me and saw Tommy with me, then it wasn’t hard to deduce what he is.
I want to think I would have gone unnoticed if Tommy weren’t here.
The guy approached us because I didn’t whisper like Tommy did.
I wouldn’t have had a reason to speak Italian, but he still could have recognized me. Then where would I be without Tommy?
“You’re not a Rizzo.”
“I know.”
Tommy still has his arm around me, but he angles himself again to shield me.
“Boston. You’re a long way from home.”
It wasn’t hard to guess. Salvatore Mancinelli has black hair and a deep natural tan.
They call him Pantera—panther. His younger brother, Massimo, is a near replica of him.
Massimo’s best friend and their second cousin, Domenico, has lighter hair and lighter eyes.
But the three of them together—they’re all inseparable—are hard to forget.
Since it’s obvious Tommy isn’t a Mancinelli or a Rizzo, Boston’s all that’s left that matters. Fucking hell. I really did it this time. Not only is Tommy not Irish, he’s also Italian from another city.
“Let go!”
A hand wraps around my arm and yanks me away from Tommy.
I swing before I see who it is. The hold on my arm tells me foe, not friend.
My fist collides with a sternum, and the guy lets go of me.
Both of Tommy’s arms reach around his back to guard me.
It leaves his front wide open. The moment I can, I use both hands to grab his shirt.
The second he feels I’m completely behind him, he swings his right fist into the jaw of the guy who grabbed me.
His left forearm blocks another attempted punch from the guy who started all of this.
The mobster doesn’t do shit because Tommy’s forearm lands across the guy’s throat.
Tommy doesn’t hesitate to reach back again, and I give him my hand.
He pulls me toward the door, but we don’t make it more than five feet before someone grabs me again.
A guy swings at Tommy at the same time. I spin around and thrust the heel of my hand up, connecting with the underside of this guy’s chin.
My knee goes to his nuts. His head snaps back before he doubles over.
The two bouncers I saw earlier rush forward, but I know it’s not to help us.
There’s a full-on fight breaking out. Tables and chairs screech against the floor while bottles break.
A few people scream, and there’s a near stampede for the door.
Tommy wraps his arm around me yet again and tries to get us lost in the crowd, but we wind up encircled.
Six guys herd us toward the back of the bar to the farthest corner from the door while everyone else clears out.
When we’re near the wall, I slam my high heel into the foot of the man right behind me.
He swears, but I can step around him while he’s surprised.
It puts my back against the wall, and Tommy’s back to my chest. I know this is where he wanted us to go if we couldn’t get to the front door.
There’s a chance I could make it out through the kitchen since the doorway is a couple feet from us.
I won’t leave Tommy behind.