19. Dante
19
DANTE
E ven though I now knew her real name, I find it hard to make the switch and refer to her as anything but Moneybags. That image of her with all that cash in a handbag dangling from her arm was one I can never erase from my memory. The girl has balls of steel.
“I’m surprised Tate hasn’t made any effort to find you,” I hum, as I walk into the cell, rolling up my sleeves like I am about to step into a boxing ring. “Either you’re an insignificant player in the Murray outfit or he cares more about keeping you gone than even you would believe.”
Moneybags sits on the bed, her legs up, tucked under her chin, her back flat against the wall. She is finally out of the hideous clothes she was in before, and is now in the fresh set that Marco provided her with. Denim cutoffs, a white tank top tucked neatly into the hem of the jeans, and a large red plaid flannel shirt that falls to her thighs, unbuttoned and embracing her like a lover. The cutoffs show too much skin, and I make a concerted effort to avoid looking at her tanned legs which go on forever. I can now confidently add ‘sexy’ to her job description. Underneath all that artificial ‘super geek’ outfit had lurked a beautiful woman unlike any I had come across before.
“I’m no one to him. I don’t know why you would think he’d come charging through the gates of this prison to my rescue.” She seems a little irritated that I have hit the nail on the head but she tries to hide it well. Her hair is folded to the side, a halo of soft waves surrounding her bronzed skin.
“Huh,” I scoff, turning to look at the wall. There are a thousand thoughts running through my head. But I only have to get one across to her, and I have to do it in a way that will make her sit up and take notice. She has to understand how dire her situation is.
“I wonder if he’ll even mourn you after I lay your body at his doorstep.” I’m not naturally a bastard, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I watch as her face blanches and her hands, placed delicately around her legs, seem to take on a life of their own as they flutter against her skin before she folds them into fists to prevent the trembling.
“You bastard!” she hisses.
How quickly she forgets… at one time, I’d been her savior, rescuing her from certain horrors at the hands of an outlaw motorcycle club. Which reminds me. That’s another bone I have to throw her.
“The way I see it, I’d probably be doing him a favor. Would it matter, either way? Since you’re no one to him?”
“You wouldn’t kill me,” she tests. “If you wanted to, you would have already.”
“You’re right. Maybe I won’t kill you. Maybe I’ll let those punks from the motorcycle club do the honors and stain their hands with your blood.”
She shifts slightly and shakes her head uncertainly, telling me wordlessly that she doesn’t understand what I’m getting at.
“They might not know where to find you – for now – but they’ve put out a bounty on your pretty little head, woman. I don’t know what you’ve done to piss them off, but messing with the Savages MC was not a good idea.”
“You can’t be fucking serious!” she fumes, hurling herself off the bed and coming to stand in front of me.
“Spitfire giving you trouble, boss?”
Marco emerges from the shadows and makes himself be seen, looking from me to Kingsley, his presence asking if he should intervene.
“It’s fine. She’s just getting comfortable.” I turn back to her and catch her hand just as she lifts it and aims for my face. I clamp her wrists in my hands and stare at her quaking lips. “Leave us,” I tell him. “And turn off the cameras,” I add, as an afterthought.
Marco turns and walks away without argument, his heavy footfalls thundering down the narrow strip away from the cell block. Marco never challenges me. He will do as he is told and he will do it gladly.
“Don’t raise your hand to me again, or you will see a side of me you will not like,” I tell her, enunciating my words slowly as my thunderous gaze connects with hers.
“Just tell me why I’m here. What do you want from me?” she whimpers. Anyone kept in such a confined space would crack. I’m actually surprised that she’s lasted this long. Although I’m not altogether sure how she’ll fare after a few more days in her underground prison.
Her eyes scan my face, searching for the answers she’s after. My expression betrays nothing. Instead, I drop her hands like they’re hot coals and lift my hand to pinch her cheeks together. She turns her face up, her cheeks imprisoned between my fingers, fire sparking in her eyes as she stares at me defiantly. If she’s going to die, she’s not going to go without a fight.
I watch as her lips part, a vulnerability washing over her face, and before I can stop myself, my lips are sealed to hers in a kiss I won’t soon forget. She fights me, then relents, sagging slightly as my tongue enters her mouth and scrapes along the inside of her cheeks. I want to taste her, remember her, so the feel of her never leaves me.
It’s when she responds to my kiss that I pull away from her violently, lurching back several steps to put distance between us.
“You weren’t made for this world, princess,” I hiss, “You’ve gotten yourself into a whole world of trouble – not even Tate can save you from those marauders when they get their hands on you.”
“You let me worry about the Savages. My problem now is with you. What will it take to get me out of here?”
I reach into the pocket of my shirt and bring out the deck of cards. “Shall we?”