five
“The princess has some street smarts after all.”- Leo
Wednesday Morning…
My jaw clenches in annoyance. Daron and I have an early morning meeting with Peadar, which is the first issue of the day. Fucking mornings. Peadar doesn’t say anything about killing Nico, but that is the only thing that goes well throughout the whole discussion.
It all goes downhill when Peadar gives us our next task.
I’m pissed, to say the least. Nevertheless, we are on our way to Callisto and Nico’s holding cell with coffee and donuts.
Knowing the pretentious little brat, he probably only eats donuts made with organic non-fat almond milk flavored with rosewater and pistachios or some shit.
“Did Callisto ever eat?” I ask out loud, remembering the princess’ refusal the day before. Evan took them dinner, so I don't know if that went over better or worse. It feels like a lifetime ago.
I have been stressed ever since we brought the pair back with us.
I want to slit the throat of whichever of Peadar’s men gave us the wrong information about Callisto being home.
I’m so fucking livid. We end up in this clusterfuck because of bad info from some idiot, yet we’re taking the punishment for it.
“I don’t know. Why do you care?” Daron’s eyes find mine, studying me curiously.
Fuck. I have no idea why I even ask. My brain-to-mouth filter doesn’t seem to be working today.
It’s too fucking early for this shit, and I only managed to sleep a few hours.
My head is already pounding, and I hate my life.
“I don’t.” I push the two words out through gritted teeth, refusing to look at Daron.
If the princess wants to starve, then that’s his choice.
I don't give a damn. I did what I was supposed to do.
I brought him food, and now I am doing something else I was told to do, as much as I hate it.
Sometimes I fucking hate my job, especially when it involves ridiculously pretty boys who are also equally as ridiculously spoiled.
“Are Fletch and Evan ready?” I ask as we reach Callisto and Nico’s cell door.
“Yeah. They’re outside, getting the van ready. You’re going with Fletch right?” Daron asks, switching the carrier holding their coffee from one hand to the other.
“Yeah.” I grip the box of donuts then take a deep breath as I unlock the door. I don’t see Callisto or Nico on either of the cots, so I walk into the room, eyes scanning from left to right then back again.
Something slams into the back of my head, blinding pain shooting down my spine.
My knees hit the ground, but I bite back my cry.
The room goes out of focus. I close my eyes, opening them again, a weak attempt to blink the dizziness away.
When it subsides a bit, I’m met by the sight of the rainbow on Callisto’s expensive loafers retreating quickly from my blurry view, before my eyes slowly close.
I desperately want to let sleep take over because the light in the room hurts my eyes.
“Leo, you okay?” A muffled voice says followed by a warm hand on my back, and I need to open my eyes again. I need to stay conscious despite the searing pain making its way from the back of my skull to every other part of my body.
I brace my palms on the cold floor, taking a deep breath before I push my torso off the ground.
I groan, the pain radiating to my spine now.
What the fuck did they hit me with? I shake my head, trying to clear the fog from my brain.
It makes the pain worse, a wave of nausea roiling in my empty stomach.
“‘M fine. We need to go after them.” My bleary eyes roam the empty room, looking up to find Daron’s worried expression. My lagging brain starts to catch up from the blow.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, providing temporary relief from the pain in my skull.
We need to catch Callisto and Nico, or Peadar may actually kill us.
I push myself to my feet, ignoring the feeling of my brain throbbing against my skull.
Daron is already gone, so I take off into a run, my powerful legs catching up to Daron easily.
We burst through the door, and I immediately see that Fletcher and Evan have wrestled Nico to the ground, holding his hands behind his back.
“Which way did he go?” I bark, squinting against the bright sunlight that provides zero warmth.
Fletcher points in the direction of the dock, and I curse under my breath. “D, stay here. I’ll go.”
“You sure? You took that hit pretty hard.” Daron’s brows draw in concern.
“Yeah. I’m faster than you. We both know that.” I smile, but it probably is more of a grimace since my injured brain apparently doesn’t like the sun. I take off running in the direction that Fletcher pointed, heaving air into my lungs and pumping my arms to gain speed.
Every step that pounds against the asphalt feels like an ice pick directly into my skull.
Everything above my shoulders hurts. My brain, my cheeks, my fucking teeth.
Everything. My stomach churns, nausea from the pain making it bubble.
I push through, letting the adrenaline take over.
I catch a glimpse of Callisto’s long legs moving toward a parking lot.
I push my body to run faster, ignoring the throb of pain in my head with each thump of my shoes hitting the pavement.
Callisto is running toward a black car, calling out a familiar name. He’s out of breath, so the name comes out barely audible. I squint to see who is in the driver's seat. It’s De Luca, one of Altieri’s henchmen. He’s looking the other way, not paying attention to Callisto’s breathy cries for help.
I can’t figure out how Callisto would know his name. I don't have time to contemplate it further, willing my legs to move faster. De Luca must not see or hear Callisto’s weak attempts to gain his attention because he drives away, the sound of the tires squealing over pavement echoing around us.
Callisto looks panicked but doesn’t slow down, his long legs moving faster than I could have ever thought possible in those damn Gucci shoes.
I’m gaining ground, though, moving across the blacktop right behind him, the salty aroma of the sea water filling my lungs with each deep inhale.
I don't think about what to do; instead, I act on instinct.
I dive for Callisto, tackling him to the grassy area on the other side of the pavement.
I wrap my arms around Callisto’s slim waist, shoulder going into his back.
His body is surprisingly hard, all lean muscle that is so warm.
We roll twice, grass under my back for a brief second before I land on top of Callisto, straddling his slim hips.
“What the fuck?” I grunt, grabbing Callisto’s flailing wrist as my thighs tighten around his hips, so that he can’t buck me off.
Callisto still tries, but I’m able to use my center of gravity to keep my balance, years of martial arts training serving a purpose.
Callisto is much hotter than most of the guys I’ve trained with, and he has a dick which just so happens to be grinding against mine given our position.
I push that thought aside even though it keeps clawing back.
“Let me go,” Callisto says between breaths, his wrists flexing and moving under my fingers.
He doesn’t seem as out of breath as me, so I make a mental note to cut back on the cigarettes because my fucking lungs are on fire.
I can’t get enough air into them, my head throbbing with each attempt at a deep breath.
“Let. Me. Go.” Callisto demands, bucking under me with each hissed word. Callisto is much stronger than he looks. It takes me a minute to wrestle Callisto’s wrists to the ground, using my position on top as leverage. I cross his wrists, pinning them to the grass with one hand.
“Don’t make me get my gun out.” I reach behind my back with my free hand.
Callisto stops moving immediately, but he glances over at the roads, as if he’s calculating another escape plan.
Not on my watch. When he doesn’t move, my body relaxes on top of Callisto’s, our groins pressed more firmly together now that my thighs are no longer flexed.
His chest heaves with his breaths, his back bowing off the grass with each steady inhale.
“What the fuck did you hit me with?” I use my free hand to rub the back of my skull, hissing in pain when I find the tender spot.
Now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, the pain has come back tenfold.
My vision is fuzzy, the bright sunlight may as well be sharp knives being shoved into my eye sockets.
I don't know if it was Callisto or Nico that delivered the blow, but I think I remember seeing Nico in front of me before things went fuzzy.
“I had the idea to unscrew the toilet seat.” Callisto’s elegant face is set in defiance, and I barely stop my face from conveying my shock. Callisto actually thought of that as a weapon? His creativity is somewhat commendable.
I frown as I move my head from one side to the other. The action hurts, my brain feeling as though it is bumping the sides of my skull like a fucking fish sloshing around. Brain matter may spill out of my ears at any moment.
“The princess has some street smarts after all. Pretty face and brains, who’d have thought?” I smirk but then immediately wince when another pain shoots through my temples.
“Two things you wouldn’t know anything about,” Callisto shoots back, but there is very little venom in his tone. Perhaps he realizes he isn’t escaping today, or maybe he’s being playful. My brain can’t decide while it is in such a fragile state.
“Ah come on, Princess, don’t you think I’m pretty?” I ask because pissing Callisto off is fun.
“Can you get off me now?” Callisto asks, which doesn’t answer my question. I tell myself I’m not disappointed, but my twitching dick sure as fuck is.
“That depends. Are you going to do something stupid again?” I return Callisto’s question with one of my own, smirking down at him. We are playing an impossible game of questions, neither of us ever getting answers.
Now that the excitement is over, I decide I like the look of Callisto on the grass underneath me, his eyes matching the blades perfectly.
His dark hair rumpled, a stray leaf caught in between thick strands.
My breath falters for a split second, Callisto is breathtaking as the morning sunlight reflects in his green eyes.
“Like try to escape?” Callisto’s red lips form carefully around the words. It must be the concussion because all I can think about is what those lips would taste like.
“No, like getting grass stains on your overpriced Gucci robe.” I smile then slowly get up, as much as I sort of want to spend the rest of the day straddling Callisto. I reach a hand down, grabbing Callisto’s and pulling him to his feet.
Before we start walking, I use my free hand to thumb out a text to Daron and the others, telling them that I caught Callisto and for Fletcher to be ready with the car.
After I finish my message, I pocket my phone before Callisto decides to try and grab it.
I keep my hand gripped on his elbow as I guide us back in the direction of the warehouse.
“How did you know that man in the car?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me as I nod in the direction of where the car was before it drove off.
Our steps are quick in the cool morning air.
So much for hiding our location, although I doubt Callisto would recognize where we are.
There are a million and three docks in this city.
“Oh. Mr. De Luca? I don’t really know him that well. He works with my dad. I don’t know what he was doing out here, though. Do you know him?”
I leave his question unanswered, and push him along, lost in thought.
Altieri most definitely has some of his men planted in the corporate world, influencing the decisions there.
I know Peadar has his hands in those types of things as well.
I thought De Luca was very close to Altieri, but I could be wrong.
Either way, I wonder what De Luca was doing here as well.
He was most likely trying to find our location, which I make a mental note to tell Peadar about.