11. Remy
REMY
It takesa couple seconds but Ollie starts for the hall, her posture rigid.
She’s scared of me, which I loathe, yet the alternative isn’t an option.
I reach the elevator by her side. Remain quiet on our descent. Leave her to her thoughts as we cross the lobby and step into the frigid morning air.
“Where’s my car?” I scope our surroundings for the Bentley, having been dropped off at the front door by Russo.
She doesn’t have a coat, and I need to get her someplace warm before hypothermia can be added to the goodie bag of treats she’s received during the past six hours.
“In the parking lot.” She waves an arm to the left, not taking her eyes off the cab rank up ahead. “Here.” She retrieves my key fob from her trouser pocket and hands it over. “I can’t remember exactly where I parked.”
She turns on her heel and hustles for the street as if fleeing a crime scene.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I stalk to catch up and grab her wrist. “We leave together.”
She gasps. Flinches.
We’ve done this dance before—me being heavy-handed, her despising my touch. But in the bright light of day it’s risky.
“I’ll find my own way home.” She attempts to yank her arm free.
“Like hell.” I step closer, releasing her wrist to wrap an arm around her back, making our volatile standoff seem more like an intimate embrace to the cab driver who watches us from his rested position against the side of his car. “I’m not letting you out of my sight to make a costly mistake.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not stupid. I know I need to keep my mouth shut.”
“You’re exhausted and emotional. It’s a hazardous concoction.” I use my free hand to gently swipe the loose strands of her frazzled braid behind her ear and ignore her cringe. She has such stunning hair—always tied back with ethereal beauty. “One that might unintentionally steer you in the direction of a police station.”
“I’m not going to run to the cops.” She leans back, trying to inch as far away as my hold will allow. I’m sure she’d stop if she realized the tilt of her waist against my crotch is taunting my dick.
“Don’t make a scene.” There’s a lethal edge to my warning. “There are witnesses. Security surveillance. Do you really think the cops finding out about this is the only problem?”
She’s stiff in my hold—a complete contrast to the night we met.
I bet she’s relieved I didn’t pop her cherry all those months ago when she couldn’t stop staring at me with those wanton hazel eyes.
It wouldn’t have taken much. I could’ve seated her on my lap, hitched her skirt, and discreetly fucked her in full view of the bar’s patrons.
She’d been hungry enough—a greedy little kitten. One who would’ve despised those memories for the rest of her life.
You’re welcome, Ollie.
“If you want to keep that gorgeous head on your exquisitely delicate shoulders, I suggest you stop seeing my lenience as weakness. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
She whimpers. Wiggles. “I’m not leaving with you.”
“Forgive me if I haven’t made this abundantly clear, but for the unforeseeable future you and I are going to remain intimately close at all times.” I slide my hand farther up her back, adding pressure to force her toward me. “I gave you leeway to come see your father because I knew making you wait would be detrimental to your emotional state. But from now on, you don’t leave my sight. Understood?”
She swallows. Shudders.
She wants out of this nightmare, and I get it. If I was immune to the sight of her, I’d be praying to wake up from this shit show, too. But I’m the fucking asshole who’s actually enjoying being close to her again.
“If you want to go home, we go together.” I rub taunting circles along her spine with my thumb. “If you take a nap, I’ll be right there to coax you to sleep. And if you decide you need a shower…” I let my voice trail, my cock already too unruly.
Dial it down, motherfucker.
Her breathing quickens. “I hate you.”
Her statement packs the same brutal punch it did the first time she threw it at me.
Don’t ask me how. Or why. It’s a mediocre retort. A flimsy backhand at best.
Yet here I stand, the serrated teeth of guilt gnawing into my gut like a rabid dog. “Hate me all you like, just do it discreetly. You don’t want anyone noticing your newfound friendship with Italian mafia royalty.”
“No, you don’t want evidence that shows I’m an unwilling participant,” she murmurs.
“Either way, you’d be screwed if this ever got to trial. Do you think a tantrum out the front of a hospital would negate the fact you willingly accepted the offer of a criminal’s car to drive into the city in the middle of the night? Does that scream hostile situation to you?”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible but she stiffens further—a stunning marble statue that radiates terror.
I eat up the space between us until my mouth is poised near her ear. “And the doctor?” I drawl. “Do you think he’ll corroborate your story? Or would he maintain that you seemed undaunted by my presence as you sat quietly at your father’s bedside? That you freely accepted my ride home and left with me without duress?”
“You bastard.” She places a hand to my chest, pushing, digging her nails through my shirt and penetrating my skin. God, it feels good.
“I’m merely giving you clarity.” She still smells divine. Ripe strawberries and vanilla. I bet between her thighs tastes just as sweet. “If tonight’s events are discovered, you’re screwed. Not only by the authorities, but my family. I’m trying to keep you alive. Remember that the next time you think about defying me.”
Her rigidity loosens, her shoulders slumping in defeat. The pointy teeth of guilt sink deeper.
“The good news is you can rail on me all you like in private.” I loosen my hold. “In fact, I encourage it.”
I crave her hatred as much as hemorrhoids, but reverse psychology and all that.
She takes the bait, slamming her mouth shut. She wiggles from my hold, daring to give me the slightest glare before turning and starting for the parking lot.
She was never meant to learn about the arrangement. It was Carlo’s one stipulation. He even crafted specific guidelines after the first time we almost got caught so that the disposal of whatever we saw fit was only to be done early at night, leaving enough time for the retort to cool, and only while he was on-call.
But I fucked up.
Miguel’s kill had been done in the heat of the moment. I’d had brain matter and skull fragments to dispose of. And with the growing rivalry between us and the Mexican cartel, keeping a mutilated body on hand wasn’t ideal.
So I took liberties.
There wasn’t much Carlo could do when I showed up at his doorstep with blood on my hands and a fresh kill in the replica funeral van.
He’d switched the after-hours number to his phone instead of Hugo’s to make sure we weren’t disturbed. I guess he’d prayed the retort would cool in time.
I’d assumed it had.
Then Salvatore gave the order to get rid of Javier and the game started all over again, except this time Carlo hadn’t answered my knock on his door.
My men located the actual Pelosi funeral home pick-up van via the GPS tracker I planted months ago for circumstances just like this. They kept watch on the female employee’s townhouse and were told to cause a diversion if she got a call-out.
I’d thought I’d been in a prime position to use the retort.
The staff parking lot had been empty.
The place was quiet.
Then my men had shouted my moniker, Ollie’s terrified eyes had met mine, and I’d known my choices had just ruined the life of someone entirely undeserving of the threat her knowledge would bring.
We make it to my car in silence. She climbs into the passenger seat without protest.
I drive onto the Baltimore streets faster than necessary.
There’s no music. No playlist. Only the grate of asphalt and honk of horns from the bustling Saturday morning traffic which is going to make the journey across the city ten times longer than it needs to be.
I check my cell at a red light.
Two missed calls. Five texts. All from Salvatore.
Shit.
I’m not surprised he didn’t appreciate the message I sent earlier about needing a night to blow off steam. It wasn’t the best diversion from the mistakes I’ve made. But I’d just thrown a man in an oversized kiln and ordered the most stunning and frighteningly scared woman to dispose of his body.
I only get another five miles down the road when Salvatore alights on the car’s display screen with the option to connect the incoming call.
Fuck.
I can’t ignore him forever. The longer I do, the more suspicious he’ll get.
I shoot a glance at Ollie. “If you value your life, I suggest you remain quiet.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her chin hitching as her mouth remains clamped shut.
Good girl.
I connect the call. “Broth?—”
“Where the fuck are you?” Salvo snaps.
“Good morning to you, too.” I snicker, forcing the slightest drunken slur into my tone. “Didn’t you get my message about taking the night off?”
“Did you not get mine that demanded to know where the fuck you are?”
“Of course. I just didn’t want big brother crashing my party. After everything I’ve done for you I deserve a night to myself.”
“You can have all the nights you want,” he growls. “But we’ve made a lot of enemies in a short space of time, and they’re out for blood.”
Ollie’s gaze shoots in my direction.
Yes, pyro, the list of threats to your existence is extensive.
“Aww, look at you trying to take care of me.” I tap the turn signal and change lanes. “Aren’t you just the bestest big broth?—”
“Don’t fuck with me, Rem. I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“So last night ran smoothly?”
“Without a hitch.” I take the next corner, turning toward Ollie’s suburb.
“There were no loose ends?”
I pause, paranoia skittering down my back at the pointed question. If my men said something about Ollie despite my instruction I’ll— “Everything is as it should be. Like always.”
“I fucking hope so. Make sure you keep your head low and your ass out of trouble. And answer next time I fucking call.”
“Aww. You’re such a sweetie. I’d do anything for?—”
The line disconnects.
I discreetly ease out a long breath. I’ll have to text him later and pretend I’m leaving town while I keep an eye on my unwilling business partner.
I’m also going to have to speak to my men—Russo and Valenti—and point out exactly what will happen to them if they open their mouths about Ollie seeing them with Javier’s dead body.
Having to kill her because she attempts to rat on my family is one thing, but losing her because Salvo is a paranoid, blood-thirsty asshole isn’t something my battered conscience could handle.
“You lied for me,” she whispers, her attention burning up my periphery. “Why?”
I flash her a taunting smirk. “Because you and I are besties now, right?”
She cringes. “What will happen if he finds out about me?”
Dread thickens the blood in my veins. I switch my attention back to city traffic.
I’ve already made it clear my family are a threat. But telling her just how quickly and easily my uncle and brother would order the execution of someone capable of putting us all in prison isn’t something she should be aware of.
“My brother is unpredictable. And at the moment, so are you. Which means it’s best to keep last night’s events as contained as possible.”
“Will he kill me?”
“Only if he finds out about you.”
She falls quiet, her attention trained on me from the corner of my eye.
I drive miles without a peep from her. There’s only the deafening sound of her thoughts and the building weight of my concern for her future as I detour down less populated streets.
I’d grown too fucking cocky.
“Why Grim?” she finally asks. “Why did those men call you that last night?”
I roll my eyes through my disdain for the moniker. “I suppose you could say it’s a family tradition.”
“You all have sickening handles?”
“For the most part. We’re quite the eclectic bunch. Anyone on the wrong side of the law could tell you my oldest brother, Matthew, was once known as the Butcher of Baltimore. My sister has also been called the Temptress of High Society.” I shrug. “I earned the Grim Reaper title.”
In less than a year. Talk about an overachiever.
The shits I have to give for the human race have all but disappeared since my father ambushed me and my brothers with our murder on his mind. In fact, I haven’t cared much for anyone outside of my siblings and uncle until I spawned a demented obsession with a woman who has balls big enough to attempt to burn me alive.
“What about your other brother?” she asks. “The one that was on the phone. Does he have a handle?”
I narrow my eyes at her, then glance back to the red Chrysler in front of us. Is she scheming to gain some sort of intel? “Salvo’s yet to earn a moniker.”
“And your uncle? Does he go by another name?”
I slow the car, easing a few extra yards from the vehicle ahead. “What’s with all the questions, pyro?”
She scrunches her nose in disgust. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Why not? You’re one of us now.”
“No, I’m not.” She stares outside. “I’m nothing more than an unwilling participant.”
That’s a shame.
I could picture her in the lifestyle. A mafia princess. My treasured queen. I’d kill our enemies. She’d dispose of the evidence.
But she’s too honorable for all that.
She’d never be able to make a home amongst my family. In my penthouse. Between my sheets.
I snap my attention back to the road, well aware that building an infatuation with someone on death row is a bad idea.
“There’s a danger in knowing too much, Ollie.” I snatch my sunglasses from the center console and shove them on as if a thin layer of glass could protect me from her appeal. “Keep that in mind if your intent is to snoop.”
“It’s dangerous to learn more. Dangerous to defy you. Dangerous to breathe in your presence.” Her voice climbs with each sentence. “You’ve ruined my life.”
“I’ve definitely sprinkled it with a little spice, that’s for sure.”
Animosity filters from her side of the car, the tension growing the closer I get to her suburb.
“I don’t want to go home,” she states once we’re a few blocks away. “Please drive me to work.”
“Not going to happen.” I continue on my predetermined path. “You’ve barely slept. Or eaten. You need?—”
“Drive me back to work, or as soon as I get home I’ll drive there myself.”
My dick taps in to the conversation, her audacity having the opposite effect of what I assume she intends.
Fear me, pyro. Don’t fuck with me. Otherwise this shit is going to get messy.
“Why work?” I grate.
“I need to keep myself busy. My thoughts will be the death of me if I’m not occupied. I also don’t want you at my house, invading my personal space. It’s bad enough you seem to know where I live.”
“The invasion is inevitable. You might as well get it over with.”
“No. I’m not ready.” She hugs her arms around her middle, her heartache doing strange things to me. “And besides, I need to make sure everything is as it should be with the retort.”
I itch to concede. To give her what she wants merely for the sake of pleasing her. But I dived headfirst toward that piranha tank six months ago and still haven’t been liberated from the aftereffects of my fingers against her damp panties.
I should’ve known I’d sealed her fate when I slid into that booth.
I could’ve played last night differently if she hadn’t recognized me.
I would’ve had my men subdue her, ply her with a roofie or two to make what she witnessed seem like a messed up dream. She’d wake up with a headache and a serious case of confusion that Carlo could’ve blamed on a gas leak. Men in hi-vis gear with clipboards could have corroborated the story.
I should’ve gone down that path regardless, yet the thought of hurting her, drugging her…
I clench the steering wheel.
This woman is fucking everything up.
“Please, Remy. Wasn’t biting my tongue at the hospital a sign of good faith? Can’t you give me one in return?”
Good faith means jack shit when the sound of her begging has me craving to hear those words in a more sordid setting.
What would she look like on her knees? Wrists bound? Lips parted?
“I may be a virgin, but I’m not virginal.”
Fuck.
She’s right. Taking her home is a mistake. I can’t be trusted in close proximity to the temptation of her bed.
“Fine.” I grind my teeth through the carnal thoughts and slap the turn signal to navigate toward the funeral home. “But let me make this clear—the invasion of your personal space is going to happen eventually.”
We just both need to be in a better headspace when it happens.