Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Armando
Fuck.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with the girl. I can’t keep her tied up forever.
She is a witness to a murder, but I don’t harm the innocent.
That guy I killed today? He was a professional. Not a good one but definitely a guy who took money for the hit. Probably sent by the Hermanos.
Cazzo.
I went straight from my first confession out of the joint back to hell.
Don Pachino told me to keep my nose clean.
What a fucking laugh. I finish wiping the shop, trying to erase all evidence of the struggle.
I owe her for a couple pots, but the damage isn’t too bad. Luckily, there wasn’t much blood.
Marco is a prince for taking care of the body for me. He’s the only guy I trusted enough to call. There are soldiers. I used to have my own crew, and I coulda called one of them, but something told me not to.
I stand in front of Hannah and slide my palm around the meat of her arm to lift her to her feet. She glares up at me.
“Where are the keys to that van out back?”
Her eyes widen. “Why? You can’t put a body in it?—”
“There’s no body,” I cut her off. “But we need to leave—now. And I don’t have a car.”
I don’t have a license, either, but that’s sort of the least of my problems. I probably should’ve kept that gun, too. At this point, I’m in for murder and kidnapping. The five years for a felon in possession of a firearm is minor in comparison.
“I-it’s a piece of shit. I don’t even use it because half the time it stalls on me.”
Fuck.
“I’ll take the risk. Where are the goddamn keys? ”
“In my purse— Jesus .” She lifts her chin toward the purse tucked under the counter.
I like that she’s offended by my tone and gives a little shit back to me. It means she’s not scared out of her mind. She still believes I ought to treat her better, which, of course, is true. I’m just out of fucking practice with having manners.
I rifle through her purse and find the keys then check her driver’s license for an address. “You live alone?”
She pales. “W-why?”
“‘Cause someone’s trying to kill me. I don’t think I should bring you to my place. Is your place cool?”
Relief flickers over her face, and she gives me a shaky nod. “Yeah. I live alone. I mean, it’s small.”
“Yeah, I just got out of a seven by twelve foot cell. I think we’re good.”
She gets more words out of me than I’ve spared for anyone since I got out, my mother and Don Pachino included. I tug her to the door, but she balks, looking back toward the register.
I tried to read her resistance. “You don’t leave cash in the register at night?”
“I need to make a deposit—tonight. Or your boss won’t get his money when he cashes my check.” A sheen of tears fills her eyes, and it does something weird to my chest.
I’ve felt nothing since they locked me up.
Nada.
No heart beating in my fucking chest.
But now empathy suddenly rears its pansy head.
I don’t know. I guess I’m surprised how little she’s fussed over my treatment of her, but here she’s tearing up about the money.
She must be in dire financial straits.
Buying the business might have been a shit move for her.
I bring her back to the register and flip through the keys on her ring until I find the small one that fits. There’s not that much money in it. I’d say less than three hundred bucks.
“There’s an envelope in that drawer.” She indicates it with her chin.
I find the zippered pouch and tuck the money inside. “That it?”
The sheen of tears appears again, and she nods.
Definitely money trouble.
Well, if she keeps my secret, I’ll owe her. I shove my hand in my pocket. “How short are you?”
“What?” She searches my face in surprise. “Oh, um, at least a hundred, maybe more.”
I flip through my cash the don set me up with when I renewed my oaths to him and the Outfit, or as the don likes to call it, la Cosa Nostra . I shove another six hundred in her money pouch. “That cover it?”
Her eyes round, and she nods, breath erratic.
“Good. Here’s what’s going to happen. You play it cool—real cool—and I’ll untie you and let you ride up front in the passenger seat. We’ll make your deposit.” I smack her ass with the money pouch. “Then we’ll go to your place. Capisce ?”
She nods quickly. “I’ll be cool. I promise.”
When she licks her lips, I’m overcome with the sudden urge to claim that mouth again. Because I have never kissed a girl like I just kissed her. So full of passion and heat and raw desperate need. I want to get another taste.
And then I want to see those lips stretched around my cock.
Working my length with the same receptivity she showed me bent over her workbench earlier.
I want to see the pleasure in her eyes when I make her come, feel her body tremble and shake with a pleasure that only I can give her.
I move closer to her, my hands sliding up her arms as I press my hips against hers, not leaving any room for doubts as to what I want or where I want it.
I swear to Christ, she must read my thoughts because when I look down, I see her nipples protruding beneath her layers.
And I’ve lost my mind because all I can think is maybe I should fuck her again before we leave.
Instead, I tug her toward the back and out the door to the alley where Marco and I loaded the body into his trunk forty-five minutes ago. I stop at the back door and use the teeth of one of her keys to rip the tape off her wrists.
Before I release her, I wrap my hand in her hair and tug her head back. “Don’t make me sorry, Hannah.” My body’s right up against hers. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, drawing my gaze to her delectable cleavage. I trace my thumb across the line of her jaw.
“I won’t. I’ll be cool. Promise.”
“Good girl.” I release her in degrees, not wanting to separate my body from hers. Not sure I can trust her outside this shop. She could scream. Or run. Or grab for her phone.
But I guess this is how I find out. If she misbehaves, I’ll deal with it. And then I’ll know I can’t trust her.
Which means...fuck, I don’t want to think what that would mean because I don’t hurt women. And I definitely don’t hurt the innocent.
And she’s both.