Chapter 3
Massimo
I make my way through the crowd, towards the bar.
A group of women heading to the dance floor almost run smack into me in their haste to dance to a popular song, but the trailing beauty trips.
The dark-haired lovely with flecks of gold sparking from her dark eyes and olive skin flushes with embarrassment as I catch her, keeping her upright on her sexy little heels.
“So sorry,” she murmurs, giving me a big smile and then wide eyes like it was all my fault and not any of her own.
It’s hard not to smirk, or to enjoy the fact that she doesn’t recognize me at all or she wouldn’t be looking at me with curiosity and a little bit of heat.
Instead, she’d be running for the fucking hills as fast as those little heels could get her there.
I remove my hands from her tiny waist. “No apology necessary.”
The ladies turn, giggling as they weave in and among the other dancers, but my eyes stay on the one with the jean encased hips as she and her friends reach the dance floor.
The beauty doesn’t hesitate, instead begins swaying seductively to the sultry beat as if in a trance and a world of her own.
I take in every elegant move of her sexy little ass, and shape of her delicious curves.
But the glow on her face, the laughter with her friends, the light in her eyes, and smile in the upward turn of her lips, all so genuine and somehow pure, intrigue me above everything else.
Pureness… A sight so uncommon in a world as dark as mine.
In stark contrast to most of the conniving and cunning plays of the women who would do anything to snare a Roselli, who undoubtedly could keep them in the lap of luxury and give them everything their little hearts desire.
That’s one thing about Desiree, although under duress from her father who will do anything to get our money, she couldn’t care less about the dollars, she just wants her freedom.
The bartender gives me a nod. A new guy, here only a few months, but already he knows the score and meets me as I reach the bar. “Delmar, boss?” he asks.
“Thanks.” I take a seat on a stool and watch the crowd, my mind running through the cover charge, multiplied by the number of chairs in the house and average number of drinks consumed on a night like tonight.
Not to mention the various percentages from the services offered, that while not on the menu, can always be found in the dark rooms of an establishment like this.
It may not be my product of choice, but it’s been that way since our family came over from Sicily and isn’t likely to change as long as the girls are looking for safe, protected work and the johns keep showing up to pay.
My mind wanders back to the dark-haired beauty, my eyes scanning the dance floor, easily homing in on her presence among the rest. Picking her out easily, no matter the crowd.
She sways a little, causing my brows to knit.
At first, I think it’s the dance, a sassy little spin perhaps, but then she puts her hands on her thighs for a moment and shakes her head while her long, thick dark hair falls around her.
When she stands upright again, her eyes dart around almost frantically, as though looking for something.
I track the direction and don’t see anything of interest, but she leaves her friends and begins to weave among the throng of dancers on the floor, swaying every once in a while as she makes her way to the restroom area.
My eyes track her every step of the way, like a hawk watching its prey. The minute she reaches the wall that leads to the bathrooms, her hands lean against it for a moment and then she sags as though catching her breath or holding herself upright.
What the fuck? Even running into me in her exuberance to get to the dance floor, she certainly didn’t appear intoxicated.
Not like her friends. That close up, I would have smelled it.
No, all I smelled was the minty fresh scent of her toothpaste, mouthwash or gum, and that sexy little vanilla scent mixed with a little bit of coconut.
My eyes scan the immediate area for a friend or boyfriend who should come find her and keep her on her feet although mine are already moving, because now she’s really leaning on the wall and not moving towards the bathroom.
But instead, and much to my annoyance, she appears to be all alone, in the offset little space with no one coming to her aid at all.
Except the greasy fucker standing by the jukebox.
His beady eyes dart around, looking both left and right, before he strides toward her in a hurry, puts his arm around her waist and walks with her toward the exit, whispering something in her ear that causes the light in her eyes from earlier to turn from her now confused state to fucking fear.
My blood pumps with rage immediately recognizing him for what the fuck he is, and I almost topple an empty bar stool I pass by, propelling myself faster across the floor.
You do not snatch girls in my fucking club and that fucker is going to learn that the hard way today.
I stalk them through the club, parting a sea of writhing bodies in my haste to get out the back door and follow them into the parking lot.
There is nowhere this fucker can hide from me.
He’s slowed by her inability to move, but still the fucker’s clipping along, half dragging her between the vehicles.
I move quicker, knowing Enrico and Mario are right behind me, never far away wherever I go.
I move in and around the parked cars, racing forward to come behind him as the fucker opens the door of his beat-up old F-150 truck and tries to keep her upright at the same time.
The end of my Glock presses against his temple, the same move that has rendered many men motionless over the years, frozen in fear of what’s about to happen next.
Seldom did many have a chance, their fates sealed tight by their indiscretions, double cross, or bad deals.
They were going to die, and they knew it.
And the man who looks up at me with bloodshot eyes and wide dilated pupils, he knows it too.
This man may live to see another day if he’s lucky, but only because he has information that I plan to obtain while he writhes in pain for the sins he planned against the dark-haired beauty.
No one runs a snatch and grab at a Roselli’s club, and he along with the one who’s calling the shots are going to pay dearly for the stunt this jerkwad pulled tonight.
They should have done their research and picked another club far outside this town’s limits, because there is no mercy at the hands of a Roselli, and I do not tolerate trafficking in my fucking city. And especially in my club.
Enrico and Mario are already securing the man before I’ve had to give an order.
“Take this fuck to the warehouse, I’ll deal with him later.
And tell Jimmy to meet me around front.” I grasp the girl around the waist, drawing her body to my own to hold her upright.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I growl at the prick.
Mario wrenches the fucker’s hands behind his back. I hear a joint crack, a satisfying pop of his shoulder coming out of place as he’s restrained. That shoulder is going to be the least of his worries after I get my hands on him tonight.
The woman slumps in my arms. Whatever she’s been given has rendered her completely immobile now.
The way it came on so fast, my bet’s on a quick acting Rohypnol and whatever the fuck they lace it with these days.
“Get him to the warehouse and tell Jimmy to get here faster,” I growl at Mario and Enrico, lifting her into my arms, letting her face cradle against my chest and carrying her to the end of the parking lot, waiting barely three minutes before my capo pulls up in a sleek black limousine.
Jimmy gets out, opens the back door and stands out of my way as I lay the dark-haired beauty on the leather seat, then shrug out of my jacket and use it for a pillow, placing it gently under her head.
Jimmy slides back into the driver’s seat and I get her situated to leave room for myself.
His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
“Enrico texted. Desiree left with some shmuck while the guys were busy with you, boss.”
My jaw tightens. So much for her going home and getting to bed safely tonight.
That woman is on a mission of hell-bent destruction.
“Have someone follow them, put the stupid fucker on ice and get her home safely and discreetly before she makes a fool of herself and a mockery of us all.” All I need is for my father to hear that she’s been out fooling around and bringing disgrace to the Roselli name.
The dark-haired beauty coughs and rolls to her side as I shift in my seat and close the door. I grab the only thing in sight, tilting her head, and then holding her hair in case she heaves her drug induced nausea into the bottom of my Italian leather briefcase.
She manages to swallow past the feeling, slowly clearing the haze that had her caught in its web.
Her eyes, earlier alight with joy, are now dim and confused and she’s not moving her arms, or anything.
The woman is completely helpless which makes me want to pound the fuckwad who did this to her over and over again, rendering him helpless as well.
I focus my attention back to her though because she looks panic stricken at her inability to move.
“You’re safe, but it’s going to take a little time before you can move or speak coherently. ”