Chapter 15 #2
Through watered eyes I vaguely see Rico stride towards him like a man on a mission to kill. He stops just a hairbreadth from him. “That wasn’t part of the plan. I had a plan and you went half cocked and ruined it.”
“Carina said appearances. I gave the appearance that her life was at fucking stake. We needed him to fold! He needed to fear us!”
“Well, your plan didn’t work, did it? The only person you succeeded in frightening was her.”
Pietro juts his chin and eyes him with a knowing cocky glint. “Is that what has your knickers in a twist? Is she not supposed to fear you, Rico?”
Rico’s tone drops to ice cold levels. “Watch it, Pietro.”
“Or what?” He taunts. “Are you going to kill me next?” Tension fills the silence between them.
He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re headed in dangerous waters.
Perhaps Gino should take over. You’re in over your head with her, Rico.
She’s the fucking enemy. You of all people should understand that the most.”
“Here’s what you need to understand,” he says, staring him down with eyes colder than the glaciers, “she’s my captive. Her life is mine. Her death is mine. Whatever fucking concerns her belongs to me.”
“Careful there, I’m starting to think you’re developing feelings.”
“You know I can’t.”
He clicks his tongue. “Four of our dead soldiers say otherwise.”
“Call the clean up crew,” he says in a dismissive tone. “You’ve done more than enough tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mutters under his breath before continuing on in Italian to himself.
And I feel it then.
My eyes furiously blink as my chest heaves from the short quickened breaths.
I feel how painfully alive I am.
A shrill of terror and agony rips from deep within my chest. Pain leaks from my eyes. Exhausted mentally my body has no choice but to slump forward within my confinements.
Cold yet strong and tender hands come to frame my face. The scent of amber overrides the stench of iron and death. And I hate how I find comfort in it. In his scent. In his large roughened hands.
I absolutely despise how I’m finding comfort in him. My brother’s killer.
“Look at me, la mia gazzella.” I don’t want to but something compels me to.
My eyes flit to his and in the dark depths I find the assurance I need.
“Keep your eyes on me.” I do as I’m told.
He waits expectantly for an answer but I can only offer a nod.
He takes it. “Gino. Knife,” he says over his shoulder.
“Here,” Gino says, giving the knife to Rico.
“Leave us,” he says lowly.
“Constantine won’t be happy about this,” he warns him.
Rico’s eyes don’t leave mine. I find myself drowning in them. And it’s comforting. There’s something comforting to allow yourself to sink in the calm waters. To allow it to pull you under.
“Leave us.” His tone brooks no argument.
On a heavy sigh Gino adheres. His wet footsteps squelch against the plastic as he goes.
Meticulously with deft and nimble fingers he begins to cut the restraints.
My flesh and bones cry in relief. After every cut of the rope his eyes glance at my face to gauge my reaction.
I wince when the knife accidentally glides against my skin.
His fingers immediately go to soothe the area.
They softly ghost over the cut to inspect the injury.
“It won’t happen again,” he tells me in what I can only assume is apologetic.
And it doesn’t.
He frees me without the blade of the knife ever kissing my skin.
Finally free I go to push him away but my arms are sluggish. My legs wobble as I try to stand.
“It’s the effects of the M99,” he informs me methodically. “You should be feeling back to normal soon.”
A dark chortle escapes me. “I’ll never be normal again, Rico.”
Not being able to withstand his penetrating gaze I look to the floor. I’m far too flooded with a myriad of emotions to be picked apart and examined.
I’m surrounded in a pool of crimson. It decorates my bare feet along with matters of the human body. I swear I see a piece of brain matter wedged between my toes.
With one arm he sweeps me off my feet. My traitorous stomach flips at how he does it so effortlessly.
“You killed my brother,” I say almost numb.
“Yes.”
I glance back at the four soldiers of his Famiglia. All dead. All dead because of me. “You killed members of your Famiglia.”
“Yes.”
“But I’m the enemy. Just like my brother.”
“Yes.” Another one word response.
“What does that mean, Rico?”
The muscles in his chest tense. His brows furrow with confusion as he stares ahead perplexed. “I don’t know.”
As he carries me out of the warehouse I’m only left riddled with more questions about the mystery of who he really is.
And as much as I’m interested in finding out I already know how this ends.
He lowers me gently into the car. His fingers graze my chest as he buckles my seatbelt. An innocent touch that leaves a burning in its wake.
Once he enters the car and starts the engine I tell him, “This doesn’t change anything.”
His hand flexes on the steering wheel. “I know.”
“I am going to kill you,” I clarify.
Leaning over the center console he traces my jugular vein. It comes to life violently beneath the pad of his finger. Pleased with the result his hand then collars my throat. I gasp softly. “You asked me to show mercy by a quick death.”
“I did,” I breathe. Will this be it? Will he snap my neck right here? Now?
He inches closer. His breath fans across my face. I feel the heat of it on my lips. Something stirs in my blood. Something wicked and molten. It’s a reaction I don’t understand but I feel it nonetheless.
“I’m asking for the opposite, la mia gazzella.
” His voice sounds deeper, intimate almost. Despite myself I hang onto his every word.
“I want you to torture me for hours. Feed me fear so I finally know what it tastes like. I want to choke with the anticipation of what you’ll do next.
” As if there’s a gravitational pull I draw nearer.
His lips brush against my own as he says, “And with my dying breath I want you to kiss me. Kiss me so I can be consumed by the fire of desire. Let me die knowing it will be the most alive I have ever felt. That is what I ask of you.”