11. Roman
CHAPTER 11
ROMAN
I pull up to my building about half an hour later, stabbing the security code into the keypad of my private parking garage. The engine of my Bentley hums as we wait for the gate to lift. When it finally does, I slowly drive into the darkened space, pulling around the side to my regular spot. I shut off the ignition and turn to look at Marchella. She’s still stewing, but at least she’s smart enough to know that if she wants to keep her brother alive, she needs to cooperate with me.
I want to tell her not to worry, that I have no intentions of killing her or Frankie. But as long as the threat hangs over her head, she’s under my control. And right now, that’s where she needs to stay.
I get out of the car and walk around to open her door, but before I can grab the handle, she opens it herself, shoving the door into me. I jump back but not in enough time and she swings the door into my gut.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says in the fakest sweet voice I’ve ever heard. “I didn’t realize chivalry is still alive and well in your domain.”
“Don’t press my buttons, Marchella,” I seethe, pushing her against the door. My head gets a little fuzzy at her nearness, her sweet scent intoxicating me even as repressed anger bubbles in my veins. She’s always had that spark inside of her. I guess recent events have really made them ignite, and fuck me if I’m not turned on by the woman she’s become. “You won’t like what happens if you do.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Well, let’s see. You’ve already stalked me, kidnapped me, drugged me, and threatened my life. What’s left? And let’s be real. You aren’t going to kill me…yet, anyway. You need me alive to make sure Frankie delivers, right? I’m the incentive.” Her eyes shoot white-hot flames. “So guess what? I’m going to push, push, push — harder and faster than you ever thought possible,” she seethes, trying to sidestep me. “I’m not the same girl you remember, Roman. Never forget that.”
I grab her wrist, yanking her back so she’s forced to look at me. “Let’s get something straight. You’re here because your brother fucked up. And until he makes things right, you’ll stay here, next to me, under me, on top of me…any which way I want, understand? You’re fucking mine until I say you’re not.”
My pulse throbs as her gaze becomes decidedly more murderous, although I’m pleased to see a bit of shock settle into her expression as well. I want to keep her on her toes. I want her to wonder what I’ll do next.
“Let’s get another thing straight. The only way you’d ever have me on top of you is if I was about to impale your heart with a steak knife. And the only way I’d ever be under you is if I was comatose or dead.”
“I like a challenge,” I growl, breathing her in, letting her rage infuse me. As if I need any more of it. “Game fucking on.”
I move away, letting her stomp away from me. I have to forcibly drag my eyes away from her Spandex-covered ass as it swings left and right while she stalks toward the only door visible. It leads to my private elevator. This is bad news…bringing her here, having her so close to me. I follow behind her, sticking my key into the door as she stands next to it, her hands over her chest.
I lead her toward the elevator and stick my key into the lock next to it. Lots of security is required in my line of work. When you blank out on safety precautions, shit goes sideways and you end up being robbed of five-hundred grand worth of blow.
Cue the fucking irony of that one.
The elevator door slides open and she just stands there, staring straight ahead, as if getting in will mean she concedes to this whole thing. The reality is, she conceded once she got into my car. Resisting now is kind of futile.
“You getting in or what?” I say after a few seconds. My patience is wearing thin, and I have a lot of shit to deal with once we get upstairs.
She clutches the sides of the elevator, her shoulders quaking. I furrow my brow, knowing that the alarm will sound unless the doors are allowed to close.
“I c-can’t,” she rasps.
“Look,” I sigh. “I already told you, play your cards right and all of this will be over before?—”
She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers.
“Unless you try to fuck with me?—”
“No!” she thunders. “No fucking elevator!”
I lift an eyebrow. “You got a problem with elevators?”
Marchella turns to look at me, her face pale, her eyes swirling with sadness. “Yes.” She pushes past me. “Now, where are the stairs?”
I fist the sides of my head, following her as she walks deeper into the basement parking garage, pulling open another door. I can see her shoulders relax when she’s greeted by the cement stairs. All five flights of them.
By the time we get to the top, I’m out of breath and sweat trickles down my spine, making my t-shirt cling to me like Saran Wrap. I collapse against the door and stick my key into the lock. I own the whole building, and the other apartments are about to undergo some serious renovations when I combine all of the floors into one, five-story living space. But for now, I’m staying on the top levels.
With Dante.
I silence a groan, twisting the knob and pushing open the door. I’d better come up with a way to spin this to him and fast.
Marchella turns a critical eye at me. “You really need to build up your stamina.”
“Are you offering to help with that?” I rasp, my heart still beating hard and fast against my chest from the impromptu exertion.
She flips me off and walks into the apartment, stopping short in the foyer.
It’s pretty damn impressive, if I say so myself. Not that I had much to do with the décor. I paid a very expensive decorator to handle all of that. It’s an open floor plan without doors. Sunlight streams into the space through the large windows that line the perimeter of the apartment. There are two floors in my apartment, the top accessible by a set of tempered glass stairs in the center of the living area. Stainless steel railings glimmer in the dusky light, and polished porcelain tile floors bring a touch of modern glamour to the space.
At least, that’s what the decorator told me when she presented me with the hefty bill for her services.
The entire place is painted, white which makes it look even grander than it is. And carefully curated pieces of abstract art in bold colors are strategically placed to offer pops of color and brightness. And the view?
Fucking outstanding.
I’ve got every high-end piece of electronic equipment, a gym, and a top-of-the-line Viking kitchen that would give celebrity chef and personal friend of mine, Tommy Marcone, a hard-on.
Everything.
None of it makes me happy, though. Not when I know one wrong move can shatter my perfect and expensive-as-hell bubble.
People think this stuff gives them legitimacy. I guess I did, too, when Matteo first put me in charge. I figured I needed all of the components to really be the part I wanted to play. As time went on, I realized how fast the rug can be pulled out from under you, and material things don’t do shit to cushion a steep fall from the top of the food chain.
You’ll just crash…hard.
And the possessions won’t do you a damn bit of good if you’re in traction.
Or dead.
People may be impressed by all of this, but to me? It’s just more to lose, more hanging in the balance, more of a noose around my neck.
More pressure to not fuck up, worse than I already have, that is.
A sharp pain shoots down my arm from the stress.
How fast your life can go from being great to being hell.
Speaking of hell, I’m sure Matteo will be calling at some point and he’s gonna want an update on his organization, the one I’ve just shrunk down by about five-hundred grand.
“So, this is my gilded cage for the foreseeable future, huh?” Marchella says, stepping into the apartment, her sneakers squeaking on the floor. “Or are you going to keep me locked up in some dungeon?”
I toss my keys onto a nearby table and wave a hand around. “You see any doors?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “I’d say you have great taste, but I’m pretty sure it’s not your taste I’d be complimenting.”
I shrug, leaning against the stairway. “I’m not offended. I know the skills I bring to the table, and interior design ain’t one of them.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” she says darkly. “I believe murder and kidnapping are two of those said skills.”
“Whoa, those are some harsh words.” Dante struts into the foyer with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He nods at Marchella. “Who put the rusty nails in her Cheerios this morning?”
I roll my eyes at my brother. “You couldn’t have put on pants, Dante?”
“You’re lucky I have on this towel. I prefer to be free as the day I was born, but I wouldn’t want to offend your guest…or make her jealous.” He gives a long, appraising look at Marchella, and the skin on the back of my neck prickles.
“I’m not a guest,” she hisses, although it takes her a second to respond since she’s focused on Dante’s pecs. A little too focused for my liking, actually. “Your brother here kidnapped me. And if memory serves, we’re old family friends.”
Dante gives Marchella a long look and lets out a whistle before raising his eyebrows at me. “Damn, Romo. Looks like you left out a few details on the phone last night. You that hard up for a date that you had to kidnap your old girlfriend?”
“Fuck off,” I huff, raking a hand through my hair. “This isn’t social.”
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” she mutters.
Dante looks between us and finally his eyes settle on me. “Sounds like there’s a story here. I could use a drink, but oh, shit. You didn’t bring me the Jack I ordered.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize laying low was a requirement when you’re on vacation,” I snap. “You’ve got legs and cash, yeah? Couldn’t you have DoorDash’d that shit?”
“Ouch, some host you are,” Dante grumbles at me. He grins at Marchella. “I can see why you’re a little prickly about him. He’s become kind of an acquired taste, you know? Like sushi.”
Her eyes widen. “Actually, he’s more like a fucking lethal poison, the kind that paralyzes you and slowly and tormentingly kills you, shutting down one organ at a time as it infests your body.”
“Wow, that’s…graphic,” Dante says, nudging me. “You hear that, Romo? She’s definitely not your biggest fan anymore . You’re gonna have to do lot of work to get her on her back, bro.”
“He’s not getting me on my back!” Marchella yells, her fists clenched. “He’s not getting anything from me except a fucking right hook if he dares to come too close! He’s a slimy, derelict thug bastard who drugged me, beat up my brother, and kidnapped me! And the only reason I’m here right now, the only reason why I haven’t clawed out his eyes with my fingernails, is because of Frankie.” She turns to me, her chest heaving. “Trust me, though, Romo . I am fucking stabbing you with a hot poker in my mind right now!”
Dante turns to me with an eyebrow lifted. “What the fuck does Frankie have to do with this?”
“Long story.”
Dante looks between us. “I’ve got time.” He walks over to the bar. He pulls a bottle of tequila off of one of the shelves and pours three highball glasses of the clear liquid. “Since you have no more Jack,” he says with a pointed look at me.
“Next time you invade my space, I’ll make sure I have a fucking case,” I grumble, turning the glass away when he tries to hand it to me.
Marchella takes hers, though. She tilts her head back and gulps it down before Dante has a chance to raise his to his lips. Then she grabs my shot and guzzles that one, too. Her face contorts as the liquid fights a path down her throat. She then holds up her empty glass, pointing it at me. “He had one of his goons shoot me with a freaking tranquilizer gun!”
Dante pours her another shot and she drinks it down, her lips twisting yet again. I can tell Dante is enjoying this little show, especially since he’s not the one in the line of fire. He smirks at me, leaning against the bar, still in his fucking towel. “I’m waiting for more. I have a feeling this is gonna get good.”
“Do you know what he had the nerve to do before shooting me on the street while I was trying to help a tiny little stray dog?” she says, a little slur lacing her words since she probably has nothing in her stomach at all. She walks toward me, holding out her glass and pointing. “This sick bastard stalked me in the park and sexually assaulted me! In public!”
“Tsk-tsk, Romo,” Dante says with a shake of his head. “Have I taught you nothing?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake! I didn’t assault her! I kissed her!” I focus my glare on Marchella’s now-flushed face. “And if I recall, you loved it! It’s not assault if you were begging for it!”
“ What?” she shrieks. “Don’t flatter yourself, dick! I didn’t beg for any of that! You saw me and took advantage of the situation! I should have dumped that whole bottle of scotch on your lap last night at the restaurant!”
I stomp toward her, my jaw twitching because I have so many more words to hurl at her, but more than yelling, I want to pin her against the wall and run my hands down the sides of her trim torso. I want to feel her body plastered against me, her lips crushed against mine.
Again and again.
Luckily, before I can act on any of it, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see Matteo’s name flash across the screen. I can’t send him to voicemail again, so I stab the Accept button.
“Romo, what’s going on? I tried calling you before. Why didn’t you call me back?”
I rub the back of my head “I, ah, was in the middle of a meeting. I was gonna get back to you tonight. How’s Heaven?”
My sister-in-law, Heaven, is about eight months’ pregnant right now, and from the looks of her, ready to pop any day. That’s the reason why they decided to stay in Vegas for a while longer. She hasn’t been able to fly, and they have a pretty posh setup at our family’s hotel, The Excelsior. Matteo is using the time to his advantage, working hard to expand our businesses out West along with a few other mafia families of Red Ladro, the syndicate we formed a little over a year ago.
“She’s good. Crankier than usual.”
“Keep her away from her gun,” I say with a snicker. Heaven is famous for her red-hot Irish temper and has been known to let off steam by firing off a few rounds whenever she gets the urge. She’s controlled herself throughout the pregnancy, but it sounds like she might just snap like a rubber band, and it’s only exacerbated by the fact that she can’t down whiskey right now either. “But keep your fridge stocked with those chocolate tarts she loves so much from Bouchon Bakery.”
“I know. She can eat her weight in those damn things.” He chuckles for a second. “How’s everything going with the clubs? You haven’t had any issues with the suppliers, have you?”
I let out a small sigh of relief. He obviously isn’t plugged into what’s been happening out here.
Looks like my actions against Salvatore, Dario, and Frankie—rash and vicious as they may have been—gave my crew the jolt they needed and resurrected some respect for me and my role. Maybe there is something to be said for using brute force to command respect.
“No issues,” I say because there was no issue with the suppliers. They brought exactly what we agreed upon. The issue is with the bastards who are still faceless and nameless until I can get my pal Frankie to sell them out.
But what Matteo doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It may kill me , but that’s not for him to worry about. It’s for me to fix.
“Good. I was afraid I’d have to crack some skulls. I know I’ve been gone for a lot longer than I originally said, but it’s been good to build relationships out here. And I know you’ve got things covered in the city.”
“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight.
“By the way, there is another reason for my call. There’s an event tomorrow night and I need you to go in my place. It’s some charity ball sponsored by a bunch of stuffy politicians who we need to keep in our back pockets. It’ll be good for you to get out there and network. I know you’ve spent a lot of time behind the scenes, but it’s time to get you out and rubbing elbows, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”
“I’ll text you all the details. You think you can find a date between now and then?”
My eyes unconsciously flicker over toward Marchella, who is about to shoot another finger of tequila. Jesus, I need to get some food in her or she’ll be hanging over my railing, puking her guts up within the hour.
“Never had a problem finding one before.”
Matteo snickers. “No, you haven’t. Okay, I’ll talk to you in the next couple of days.”
“Sure,” I croak, clicking off the phone.
“Doesn’t sound like you gave him the scoop,” Dante quips.
“He was preoccupied with Heaven,” I mumble.
“And what have you never had a problem finding before?” Dante asks.
“Christ, man. Do you have to eavesdrop like a fucking spy all the time? Do you ever just tune shit out?”
“Nah, not when it gets your dick in a twist like this.” He grins. “So. What does he have you doing for him this time?”
“He wants me to go to some charity event tomorrow night. He asked if I could find a date.”
“Ah,” Dante says with a nod. “So, kidnapping with a purpose. Nice.”
Marchella narrows her slightly drunken eyes at me. “Are you thinking that I’ll go with you to this thing?” she screeches. “Because, oh hell fucking no to that!”
“You don’t have a choice,” I growl.
“Really?” she snaps. “Then you’re gonna have to shoot me with another dart to get me anywhere near that event!”
“That can be arranged,” I say darkly.
“Why in the world would I ever do you any favors? You’re holding me captive! What kind of sick and twisted person would even think it’s okay to ask me to go? I mean, hello! I’m your fucking hostage! Taking me out in public isn’t an ideal scenario.”
“She does have a point,” Dante says. “It is a little weird. She’s not your employee, she’s your ex-girlfriend.”
“Stop saying that! Whose fucking side are you on?” I yell.
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know. You show up here with the chick you pined for back in Sicily who claims you beat the shit out of her brother, your former best friend, and kidnapped her. That to me screams a little hard up for some female companionship, but hey, I don’t judge.”
I clench my fists tight, my pulse throbbing against my neck.
“Yeah, why don’t you tell him the whole sordid story?” Marchella seethes. “Let him judge for himself!”
“Salvatore Giaconne and Frankie Amante robbed us last night,” I grunt. “Worked with a crew to ambush us. They got away with five hundo worth of blow.” I jerk my head toward Marchella. “My ex-best friend fucked us up the ass just like his father did to Pop back in Sicily. The grape doesn’t fall far from the vine.” I glare at Dante. “So, yeah, I took her as leverage while Frankie gets our drugs back.”
“Damn,” Dante mutters.
And he doesn’t know the half of it, the rest of the blood staining me from head to toe. The hairs on my arms prickle as I crack my knuckles one finger at a time, a throbbing sensation between my temples making my head ache.
Dante looks at Marchella. “Your brother was always an asshat.”
“S-screw you! Your family is a bunch of scumbag pigs!” Marchella staggers over to the couch and leans against it. “But whatever. So now you have me and I can’t work so I’m just going to s-sink further into debt. I’ll probably lose my job, the only job I could even get after everything hit the fan with Papa…”
She keeps rambling and I don’t know what any of it means, but one thing sticks.
She’s my bargaining chip, yeah. But she didn’t have anything to do with the stunt her brother pulled. And she didn’t have anything to do with what her father pulled years back. She’s been the one to suffer through all of it. I don’t want to fuck her for his bad judgment.
I mean, yeah, I wanna fuck her, but not that way.
I rub the knot forming at the base of my skull. “Just stop talking, okay? You’re giving me more of a goddamn headache right now.” A frustrated sigh slips from my lips. “Dante is right. I should pay you if I want you to come with me.” I can see his eyes widen and he probably thinks I’m off my nut, but I keep going. “I’ll pay you for your lost work time, okay? In return, you come to this event with me.” I walk to the couch. “You be the perfect date and I’ll make sure you have the money you need for your bills.”
“Oh, so what is this-s, Pretty Woman with a little gangster twist?” she mumbles. “I’m not gonna screw you, Romo. And I don’t kiss on the mouth.”
“Yeah, well, that ship’s kinda sailed.”
She leans back against the couch, rolling over the top of it and landing face-first into the seat cushion with a little yelp. “You lost my puppy. My Bella,” she murmurs. “Jerk.”
I peer over the top of the couch and sure enough, she’s passed out in what seems like seconds.
“Cheap date,” Dante says. “You sure know how to pick ’em, bro.”
“Tell me about it,” I groan.
“What’d you do to her puppy?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s the only question you have for me?”
“We can start there.” Dante saunters over to another couch and sinks into the leather, draping an arm over the top.
“Are you gonna get dressed tonight or what?”
“Hey, I usually air-dry at home, so consider yourself lucky that the towel is still on.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and collapse into a chair opposite him.
A loud snore comes from the opposite side of the room and I sigh, pushing back my hair. “I guess I can talk freely since she’s on another planet right now.” I lean forward, my head in my hands. “Frankie stole those drugs. He hooked up with Salvatore Giaconne, who had a beef with us. But he claims he can’t get the blow back, that ‘they won’t let him have it.’ He also said they found him and not the other way around. He says he doesn’t know how to get to the drugs or the dipshits who have them.” I let out a sigh “Sal didn’t give me any names either. It’s all on Frankie. I think he’s full of shit. He’s working with an enemy of ours. I know it.”
“Maybe you’re looking too deep,” Dante says. “Maybe it really was a revenge plot, Sal getting you back for firing him, Frankie getting you back for running them out of Sicily and humiliating their family.”
“I don’t know. But I don’t trust Frankie,” I mutter.
“So what’s that got to do with Sleeping Beauty over there?” Dante’s forehead creases. “You kidnapped her as leverage, but for what? Is it just to get the drugs back?”
I shake my head. “I want the drugs, yeah. But, for all I know, we’ll never see them again. The bigger problem is taking care of the bastards who made off with our stash. I need to make sure they never pull the same job twice.”
“And that’s why you went insane, drugged your ex, and snatched her off the street?” Dante lifts an eyebrow.
“No,” I say tersely. “I did all that to prove to my guys that I’m not some pussy who’s gonna let anyone walk all over me. I did it as a show of strength, as a way to keep their respect since I lost a ton of it when this went down.
Dante nods. “Okay, so where’s Frankie now?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I gave him one week to get me what I want.”
“And you restore everyone’s faith in you and you jump into Matteo’s number two spot because you’ve made the empire whole again.”
“Exactly.”
Dante shakes his head. “Romo, what if you’re spinning your wheels looking for an enemy who isn’t there? What if you miss the real ones, Frankie and Sal, because you’re chasing a fucking figment of your paranoid imagination? You always think people are trying to cut you down, to undermine you because you’re the youngest. Matteo left you out here to run things because he trusts you. Don’t fuck with that, bro. Do your job. Don’t make problems where none exist.”
“I’m not imagining it!” I say, standing up and pacing across the floor. “And now I need Frankie to get me the guys who were behind this. Once he does that…” My voice trails off as I sneak a glance over at Marchella’s limp body.
“You give her up? Again?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. That’s how the story ends, Dante. I close the book on the Amantes for good.”
“Can we talk about the puppy now?”
I groan. “Bobby got Marchella with the tranquilizer dart while she was trying to help a stray puppy. Same one she was chasing in the…” My words drift off as I recall my arms wrapped tight around her in the park, right after she almost wiped out on that rock. “…in the park.”
“In the park. And is that where you, ah,” he grins. “Sexually assaulted her?”
“I admit, it wasn’t my smartest move,” I grumble.
“This is your problem, Romo. You don’t think. You just do.”
“Says the guy who takes his sniper rifle to bed almost as often as his whores.”
“Easy, bro. No need to judge.”
“Look, you run your life and I’ll run mine, okay?” I shake my head. “In the meantime, I have to figure out how to make the next week as painless as possible for myself.” I nod at Marchella. “She can be pretty brutal.”
“Judging by the way she sucked back that tequila, I’d say you should stock up if you want any peace.”
I nod, staring out at the skyline.
There might be something else I can do.
You know, for the sake of keeping peace.
* * *
I hold open a bag of some horrid-smelling things called Nudges that I found in the pet aisle of a nearby Key Food supermarket, hoping the scent alone will have Bella running to eat out of my hand. I grabbed a few other necessities like a leash and some wipes because stupidly, I was hopeful I’d actually be able to find her. But now it’s been three hours since I left my apartment and it’s starting to get dark. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to see her even if she is skulking around these streets.
I wander up and down the streets around the park, knowing that once darkness falls, I’ll be fucked in this neighborhood. I’ve got my gun, but if I get jumped by a group of thugs with something to prove, it’ll be damn useless.
I wind up back in the spot where Bobby shot Marchella because the little alleyway is the last place where I saw Bella. I guess I’m hoping she’ll come back around. I sink to the concrete next to the old brick building, tall, overgrown weeds on either side of me. My shoulders slump and I lean my head back against the side of the wall.
Why in the hell am I even here?
Do I really think that I’m A) gonna find the dog, and B) gonna be able to ingratiate myself with Marchella even if I get lucky and she comes sniffing around?
My cell phone buzzes and I grab it. “Is she up yet?” I ask.
“Nah. In fact, I think she’s actually drooling a little. You finish your little errand?”
“Not yet.” I sigh. “I’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”
“Okay. Don’t forget the Jack.”
Jesus Christ. “Is that all that’s on your mind right now?”
“Nope,” he says. “My mind is on your little captive right now. She’s got some mouth on her. I’m thinking about what else she can do with it.”
“Did you put on pants?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Negative. I figured easy access, you know? If she wakes up horny,” Dante adds with a snicker. “I mean, she clearly hates you, but I figure I’m fair game.”
I grip the phone tight. I will kill him if he lays a finger on Marchella. Kill him fucking dead!
“Relax, Romo. I know you still like her,” he sing-songs. “But ya know, it’s gotta be her choice. That’s only fair.”
“Screw you,” I hiss. “And I am long fucking over her. You think she’d be interested in you, go for it. I don’t need her brand of hell in my life.”
“Thanks for giving me your blessing,” he says. “My dick appreciates it.”
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!
My stomach rolls as I raise the bag of Nudges to my nose. I’m starving but not dying.
“I’ll see ya later,” I snap, clicking off the phone.
My brother. What a dick. He rode my ass incessantly about her back in Sicily because he was the only one who actually paid attention and saw what everyone else missed.
Of course he’d try to make a run at Marchella just to fuck with me.
Like he needs to. The guy can get any woman he wants, whenever he wants.
But he also loves a challenge.
And Marchella is just that.
I stagger to my feet. This manhunt is useless. I’m not gonna find?—
Something winds around my ankles and I jump, looking down at the ground. I really hope it’s not a sewer rat. They’re the size of cats here in the city, with thick tails about a mile long.
Scary as fuck, not that I’d ever admit that.
But whatever it is nuzzles the side of my leg without making a peep. I lower myself to the ground and the ears perk up, standing at attention. Big bug eyes stare up at me…or rather, the bag of Nudges in my hand.
“Bella,” I whisper, a smile tugging at my lips. I didn’t spend too much time studying the dog Marchella was with, but I remember small, black, and those big eyes. This has to be her.
I reach down to stroke the underside of her chin but she backs away, creeping back toward the small alleyway between the buildings.
“Shit,” I mutter, pulling a Nudge out of the bag and holding it out, whistling at her. Her eyes widen and she takes a few steps toward me. She moves gingerly and I don’t make any quick moves, just in case she gets spooked and takes off like a shot.
Speaking of shots, we need to get the hell out of here.
Immediately, if not sooner.
Bella inches toward me and turns her head up toward the steak-like looking thing in my hand. I fight the bile rising in the back of my throat.
It sure as hell doesn’t smell like a side of beef to me, but hey, it got her out here.
She must be fucking starving.
I look around, hearing faint yelling in the distance. I start to back away from the brick, urging Bella to follow me out far enough that I can scoop her up. I tiptoe backward, holding out the treat, whistling at her as she creeps closer.
“Come on, girl. Just a little more,” I murmur. My car is right around the corner, my gun tucked into the back of my jeans. She finally makes her way out into the open and I hold out the treat to her. She jumps for it, capturing it with her teeth so fast, I almost think I imagined it.
She must swallow it whole because it’s only a split second before she puts out her paw, looking for more. I take a quick look around and hurriedly hand over a second one. This time, I put it on the ground and gently put my arms around her as she scarfs down the treat. She wiggles like crazy, but I don’t really have time to comfort her. I’ve got an expensive car sitting out on a street known for gang violence and general obliteration of anything out of the ordinary.
She can eat the whole damn bag in my front seat, but we’ve gotta go now.
I hold her as tight as I can without squeezing her too hard and start hoofing it back to my parking spot. Just as I’m about to round the corner, a loud shattering sound pierces the otherwise still air. I jump back with a gasp, peering around the side of a building. A car alarm sounds and I turn away from the mess of shards glittering on the concrete around my Bentley.
Why in the ever-loving fuck did I take my own goddamn car?
I could have found a piece-of-shit Honda or something to drive up here but no.
Take the Bentley!
Make yourself a target!
I let out a frustrated breath. Can’t very well go to it now. They’ll fucking skewer me for whatever I have on me, which includes a lot of cash and my grandfather’s Rolex.
Sonofabitch!
I look down at Bella. “Don’t bark, whatever you do,” I hiss.
The derelicts who busted into my car aren’t the least bit scared off by the alarm. They keep ransacking the thing. My E-Z Pass is in there, but I never keep registration or insurance in the glove compartment. I always carry that on me.
The stereo will be torn out, but who gives a damn about that?
I rack my brain for anything incriminating, but nothing registers.
I’m not stupid enough to leave weapons in the car while it’s unattended.
Same thing with cash.
I just hope they leave enough of the car that I can drive it the hell outta here once I get a chance.
I almost cheer when I hear police sirens approach, but I also don’t have time to sit around and file a report. I can handle my car business myself.
If I can get to said car.
I peek around the side of the building again to see if the sounds startled them enough to leave the crime scene. One guy is hard at work on getting my rims off, but jumps away when the sirens get louder.
“Yo, Boom, we gots ta go! I ain’t endin’ up in the clink again for your sloppy ass!”
The one called Boom jumps out from the hood, screaming and cursing at the group of guys who take off running down the street. “You fuckin’ pussies! I almost had the battery!”
“Fuck it!” Another one of them yells over his shoulder. “I ain’t waitin’ to get pinched!”
Boom runs after them, still bitching.
I don’t wait until they’re out of sight, just that they’re far enough away that I can slam the hood closed and jump into the car before the cops show up. I pull open the door and roll my eyes. They demolished the steering column, I guess to try and hotwire it. Must have been a bunch of low-level thugs since they abandoned that plan and went for the battery instead.
Idiots. If they were part of my crew, I’d have kicked their asses for leaving their fingerprints all over everything before leaving the car as evidence.
I’ll worry about that tomorrow.
In the meantime, I turn on the car and stomp on the gas, zooming down the street. I can still hear the sirens, but they sound a little farther away now. Either I made a just-in-time escape, or something else caught their attention.
In this neighborhood, it’s probably the latter.
Forty minutes later, I’m lugging my heaping bag of pet crap in one arm, and Bella in the other, as I jog toward the elevator of my building. I shift the bag to stick my key into the lock, collapsing against the back wall as the doors close.
The bell dings once we reach my floor and I stagger across the hall toward the front door. I twist the key into the lock and practically fall into the foyer, I’m so spent from my ‘errand’.
I drop the bags onto the floor and the open bag of Nudges spills onto the floor.
Bella sure isn’t complaining.
I lean back against the door. I wonder how many of those she should have. I definitely don’t need a stray dog shitting all over the place. But when I asked about that at the supermarket, one of the workers told me to pad train her. I have no idea what the hell that means, and I didn’t really have time to chat with him, so I bought a box of pads he recommended. I’ll guess I’ll just wallpaper the place with them and hope she knows where to go.
My eyes drop to the little black puppy who seems to have way more energy now that she’s eaten half a bag of treats.
She looks up at me and lets out a high-pitched bark. Then she takes off, racing around the room so fast, she becomes a black blur. My eyes can’t track her fast enough, and I see black darting around tables, chairs, couches, and potted plants.
But she never crashes into anything.
A few more high-pitched barks pierce the silence, and Marchella lets out a loud groan as she resurrects from her face-down position on the couch. Slowly, I see her sleep-tousled head rise from the couch cushion, red marks lining the sides of her face where they were pressed against the pillow seams. Her eyes are heavy and a little bloodshot, but when Bella leaps onto the couch next to her and attacks her with her tongue…fucking gross, by the way…she gasps and an expression of pure joy settles into her features.
Only, I’m used to the look of disdain and disgust, so this is new.
And much nicer.
If I have to keep a hostage, I’d like her to be at least somewhat agreeable.
She grabs Bella and holds her up, squealing with excitement. Bella obviously feels it, too, because she lets out another bark.
Marchella looks over to me, a bright smile on her face. “I can’t believe you did this. How did you…oh my God, where did you even find her?”
I shrug. “It’s like I said before. You didn’t do anything to deserve this, Marchella. You shouldn’t be the one to suffer. And this dog obviously meant something to you. So I went back to Inwood.”
“You went to Inwood,” she repeats to herself, almost disbelievingly. “At this hour? And you found her.” Marchella shakes her head, whispering. “I figured she’d be gone forever…”
“It doesn’t matter.” I point to the bags on the floor. “I got you stuff you’ll need for her. I think your first stop should be the bath, though. She fucking stinks.”
With eyes that shine a whole lot brighter than they did when I left her a few hours ago, she holds the puppy in the air and spins her around, talking to her in a baby voice. Marchella doesn’t seem to mind the smell either.
I fold my arms over my chest. “So I guess you’re a dog person.”
She lifts an eyebrow at me. “And just like that, we get personal? This isn’t a sweet reunion, Roman.”
“I was just trying to make conversation. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Hell, we don’t need to speak for the next week. But don’t mistake my questions for congeniality. I’m not looking for a friend here. I’m looking for my product. And you being here is gonna get it for me.”
“Wow, you’re a real charmer. I guess some things never change,” she says sarcastically, continuing to dance around with the dog. “You must need a stick to fight off all the ladies, huh?”
I push myself off the wall, my stomach grumbling. “Like I said before, this ain’t social, Marchella.”
“You know, it would be a lot easier for me to figure out how to deal with you if you weren’t so inconsistent.”
I pad into the kitchen, swallowing a yawn as I pull open the refrigerator.
Almost completely empty.
Dante .
I slam it closed and turn to look at Marchella. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She nestles the puppy against her shoulder and walks toward me. “Well, let’s see. You purposely avoid telling me who you are, then you stalk me, kiss me like I’ve never been kissed in my life, drug me, and kidnap me. Then you have my brother beaten to a pulp, threaten us both with extreme torture before death.”
The corners of my lips curl upward and I let out a chuckle. “Like you’ve never been kissed by in your life, huh?”
She rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “That would be what you caught. I should have known,” she mutters.
“No, no, keep going. I wanna hear the rest. Don’t leave me hanging.”
“You basically hired me so I’ll go with you to that event, in essence paying me to sit tight so that my brother stays on task to get your money back. Then you rescued this puppy because you knew she meant something to me.” She shakes her head. “Completely inconsistent.”
“Well, I’m not a total dickhead, much as you’d like to believe otherwise,” I say. “Besides, it gets cold at night. The puppy should be inside. Christ only knows what she sees, or just barely escapes, when she’s creeping around Inwood at night.”
Marchella narrows her eyes, the blue much darker than it was only a few minutes ago. More turbulent, like a violent wave that’s about to consume everything in its path. “I came here hating you with every fiber of my being.”
“And so what now? Did I score any points?” I flash a half-smirk.
“Not enough to make a difference,” Marchella snips. “I just wanted to point out that your behavior for a mafia thug is bizarre as hell.”
“So I basically risked my life going into your neighborhood for nothing? Not even a fucking ‘thank-you’?”
She recoils, her eyes now wide. I guess the thought didn’t occur to her. Then her expression is eclipsed by the pent-up anger at her situation. “Let me tell you something, Roman. If you want me to kiss your ass because you did a couple of somewhat decent things after shooting me up with a drug that could have killed me, as well as making me your captive for the foreseeable future, you’re crazier than I thought!”
I grit my teeth, my hands balled into fists at my sides. Of course, she’s right. I did some pretty shitty things today, like stealing her freedom. Did I really think that finding the puppy would make her forget that I’m a vicious and somewhat unhinged killer who slapped a target on her beloved brother’s back?
Still, a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt. I did risk my life and my car.
That’s the heated side of me, the irrational side that tries to justify all of the bad.
The side that doesn’t give a damn about anything but being close to her.
I stomp across the room, my jaw tight as the puppy jumps out of her arms. She gasps as I put my hands on her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh. The puppy stares up at us as if she knew to get the hell outta dodge, then trots into the kitchen.
Electricity crackles between us, my insides sizzling at her nearness. “I don’t normally give a damn about people’s feelings,” I growl, tightening my grip on her. “People serve a purpose to me. They’re a means to an end. Period.”
“Why are you telling me that?” she says, her teeth clenched. “Do you think I’m some kind of an idiot? I know how your world works. I know you only care about your money. And I know you made this grand gesture to get on my good side so I don’t mess up your event by telling everyone what you’ve done to me, my brother, and our lives. You’re using me. Manipulating me!” She struggles against my grip, her sinful body rubbing against me in the process. It makes my blood boil, except it’s desire, not anger, coursing through me.
My pulse throbs against my neck as we glare at each other, death wishes co-mingling with a hunger that proves we share the same inner conflict.
The longing infused with hatred.
The craving that battles the disdain.
Our lips are so close together that I can almost graze hers with my tongue.
The all-consuming lust blinds me, clouding my judgment and my objective.
“I’m doing what I need to preserve my organization,” I hiss. “You’re only alive right now because of what you can do for me. And you’ll go to the event as my date because I’m paying you to. But, like your brother, if you decide to fuck around, you’ll suffer the same fate as him. So don’t test me, Marchella.” I force out the words because I need to do something to show her I’m not some pathetic excuse for a leader. It’s the only way I can preserve my place, and I need to remember said place unless this whole plan goes up in smoke.
I can’t let myself be distracted by her gorgeousness, her smart mouth, or her fiery will.
All of those roads most definitely lead to hell.
Her eyes widen for a split second and she takes in a sharp breath.
Yeah, I surprised myself with that little speech, too.
It may fuel her hatred but it’ll keep me in control.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” she whispers.
“I know,” I snarl. “Always remember that. You’ll survive longer.”