Chapter 7
RAQUEL
I can’t believe I let him kiss me earlier. Well, not kiss me exactly. More like fuck the hell out of my neck.
My lord, he’s good with those lips and that tongue. I can just imagine what they could do to other parts of my anatomy.
My skin warms at the memory from half hour ago. I’m losing control with this man. I’m someone else with him, like I’ve shed a layer of myself. The part that’s been caged is finally free.
I don’t have anyone to answer to. No family to disappoint. No future husband to anger. Well, except this one, but I don’t think he’s anything like Carlito. At least I hope not.
“Are you ready to do this?” Dante asks from beside me, clutching a pen in his hand as he waits for me to sign the paperwork that’ll give us the marriage certificate.
Am I?
No. But it’s as ready as I’ll ever be. In three months, I’ll be starting a whole new life. A fresh start is something I never thought I’d have.
Taking a shaky breath, I turn my head to my right and find him staring back at me.
“I’m ready.” I pick up a pen, adding my name on the line.
That’s it. It’s done. Just like that.
The blue ink glares back at me, condemning me or praising me. I can’t be sure.
Holy shit. I just married a stranger.
Dante grabs the pen from me, folding the papers up. “All right. I’m going to take this to my contact, and we’ll have the certificate in a few hours.”
“That’s really it?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. What did you expect? A wedding?” He smirks. “I mean, I can arrange that too. I kind of want to see you wearing a white dress.”
“Not on your life,” I laugh as I swat him playfully on his arm, knowing he’s only teasing.
“Never say never.” He winks. “Oh, and I have a little wedding gift for you.”
“Dante.” My brows pinch with a heavy sigh. “I’m not really your wife, so you don’t have to spend money on me. You already went above and beyond with the clothes. And that lingerie. Seriously?”
He chuckles. “Think of the lingerie as your ‘just in case’ stash.”
“Just in case what?”
His gaze turns hot and heavy-lidded as his hand hungrily jumps to the back of my neck, roughly drawing me closer and making my mouth flirt with a hint of his. His lips just barely graze mine, and my breathing stills, a tremor running down my spine.
“Just in case you decide to find out what it feels like to fuck a man actually worth your time.”
I gasp, and my lower lip drops, accidentally sliding over his. My eyes widen, my breaths hitching, louder than any thunder shooting across the stormy skies.
His palm wraps tighter around me, our lips still stroking softly over one another’s, his roughened exhales bathing my mouth.
I want more than anything for him to kiss me.
My core clenches and throbs.
Just do it.
But he doesn’t. He turns away instead.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hand clutching the back of his head.
A few seconds later, his eyes are on mine, playfulness fitting over his face like a mask.
“About that surprise,” he tosses out. “Wait here while I get it.”
He marches out, practically two steps at a time, while I release an audible sigh, gripping the edge of the table.
I’ve only been here half a day and I already want to fuck him.
Awesome.
Not.
He comes back in carrying a black leather satchel.
It’s a nice handbag. Very much my style, but I’m not sure how much I’ll be using it, considering I won’t be going anywhere. But maybe I can once I’m out of here.
“Thank you,” I say reaching for it as he comes to stand before me.
His lips slant up into a lopsided grin that has my stomach knotted up. “Open it.”
“Okay?” I curiously unzip it once I place it on the table.
Then I gasp, tears springing into my eyes.
No way.
“Wha— How?” I stammer, running my finger past the stethoscope.
There’s practically everything I had in my own bag, plus more.
“So you like it?” he questions knowingly.
“Are you kidding me?” I wipe a tear or two from my eye, not believing he did this. “I love it. I had one, but I left it at home. You don’t know how badly I needed this. But it’s too much. How did you even know?”
“I figured every doc needs her stash.” He slips his hands into his black trousers, his shirt pulling against the muscular width of his chest as the buttons practically beg me to undo them. “You’ve helped me more than you realize. I wanted to do something in appreciation.”
“This is amazing. Thank you,” I whisper, zipping up the bag as my gaze finds his, unable and unwilling to let it go. “You’ve been so good to me.”
His eyes search mine, his jaw twitching, the breaths slipping from his lungs fighting for space with mine.
“I have to go,” he says gruffly, ripping apart that spark of connection that was there seconds ago. “I’ll be at work all night. Damn overseas clients.”
“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say from the change in his demeanor.
He starts to walk away, but suddenly freezes in place.
“Don’t wait,” he throws over his shoulder. “Go to sleep without me. You’re safe here.”
I feel so alone already. This house is too big for just me.
“How will I reach you if I need you?”
How will I survive without a phone? I’m so cut off from everyone.
“If you need me, ask one of my men to call me. I’ll always be available for you.”
“Thanks.” I wish he’d stay a little longer, but his back is already turned.
“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”
DANTE
“Sir, we’re positioned,” Roger alerts Dom through his walkie-talkie as our van comes to a stop. “We see some movement inside. Two men so far. Both armed.”
Roger is one of those dudes who, by day, seems like the nicest person alive—and I guess he has to be, considering he runs a martial arts school—but no one would know he’s one hell of a killer, and an ex-army sniper.
“We’re going through the back,” Dom tells me, Enzo, and the other men in the van with us. “Keep your masks and gloves on at all times. Kill any man inside.”
I slip on my black face mask and slide into my black gloves. The semi-automatic pistol in my hand will come in handy tonight as we shoot the enemy at Tips & Tricks.
One more Bianchi business will light up the night like colorful fireworks. Destroying everything they own has been part of our plan from the get-go. Little by little, we will take everything: their sources of income, their power, their daughters, and—finally—their lives.
My brothers and the men hop out one by one, with more guys exiting from the van behind us. Taking cautious steps, we walk the quarter block to the back entrance of the club. It’s quiet here, with the crickets singing our anthem as we reach our destination.
It helps that one of our tech guys killed all the cameras in a three-mile radius. Every motherfucking cam has been sleeping for hours, keeping us hidden.
Once we reach the club, Dom stealthily peers inside, then lifts up two fingers, indicating he sees two targets. Grabbing the keys he took from Chiara when he kidnapped her, he unlocks the door, nodding once before he pushes it open.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Bullets fly from all directions. Two men come at me, their pistols pointing as they shoot. I duck down, kicking one man in the ankles before I fire back, then raise up the gun to take out the second guy before he has a chance to kill me.
Two others come running from the back of the bar, firing at me. Something pierces me near my shoulder, burning, but I ignore it. The adrenaline is what’s keeping me conscious.
Pop.
I duck as a bullet comes flying past my face.
Pop.
This time I’m the one firing, shooting one guy in his thigh before getting another round into some other motherfucker. The man with the leg wound groans in agony before I let the bullet rip into his chest.
Silence thickens the room, and as I focus, I realize our enemies are all dead.
“Fuck!” I grumble, clinging to my left arm and hissing in pain that’s now sharper than before.
“What happened?” Dom runs over.
“I’m hit.”
He yanks up the sleeve of my hoodie, and I find blood oozing out from the top of my arm, right under the shoulder.
“Fuck. We have to get you to Raquel. She’s the closest.” Dom sounds alarmed as he removes his hoodie and tightens it around the wound, applying pressure.
We normally use Ricky for this kind of shit. He’s a vet Tomás knew, but he’s a lot further away from here, and since Raquel is closer, it does make more sense to get her to fix me up. I don’t know how I’m going to explain a bullet wound, but I’d better make something up quick.
Just as we’re about to leave, Dom and Enzo keeping me upright, we hear the sound of a woman’s whimper.
What the hell? No one’s supposed to be here. Did we kill someone innocent? I’ll never forgive myself if we messed up this badly.
“Did you hear that?” Enzo hisses.
Dom nods, gesturing toward the bar with a tilt of his head.
Go, he mouths.
Enzo lets another man take his position beside me so he can investigate.
The pain in my shoulder is stronger now. I shut my eyes, taking long inhales, while listening to Enzo talk to the woman and ask her to get out from behind the bar. But she refuses, and it sounds like she has a weapon pointing at him.
Did he say Joelle?
But I’m no longer listening. I just want to get the fuck out of here.
“Come on, man!” Dom shouts. “Dante needs help!”
I open my eyes and find Joelle, a stripper from the club, in Enzo’s clutches. She’s the one Carlito and the rest of the Palermo men love to play with. I guess my brother wants to take their girl away. Not surprising, knowing how much he likes her, even when he pretends she means nothing.
From athletes to celebrities, Joelle brings in the most expensive clients. The Bianchis are not only going to lose their club, but their favorite girl too.
Once we’re in the van, they lay me down across the bench seat in the back. A minute later, we’re rolling down the street, and I still have no idea what I’m going to tell Raquel.