by Reilly, Cora
Leona smiled. “But I got something out of it. I got you.”
I shook my head at her. I slid my fingers out of her. “You don’t know what’s good for you.”
She released a small breath then lifted one shoulder. “Good’s overrated.”
I kissed her again, tasting myself on her.
“You almost died today ... for me,” she whispered. “Nobody has ever done something like that for me. People can keep telling me to stay away from you if they want, but it won’t make me love you any less.”
My body grew taut at her admission. Love was a dangerous thing, something that had brought the hardest fighters to their knees. Weakness was something I couldn’t afford, not if I wanted to stay on Remo’s good side. But love wasn’t a choice. It was like fucking torture. Something that happened to you and you were unable to stop it. It was the only form of torture I was unable to endure.
I brushed a sweaty curl out of her face, wondering how she could have put a hole in the impenetrable façade I’d built since my father had abandoned me. Leona, with her infuriating naivety, her shy smile ... I’d watched the people I cared about leave me one after the other. I swore to myself to never allow anyone else into my heart. And now Leona had changed everything.
“Your expression is a bit on the unsettling side. What’s going on?”
I shook my head in exasperation. I hadn’t been afraid of anyone or anything in a while, and here I was being a fucking pussy about this. “Fuck,” I breathed. “I love you.”
She took a small step back, astonishment reflecting on her beautiful face. “I didn’t think you’d say it.”
“You didn’t think I loved you?”
She laughed then wedged herself between my legs again, bringing us closer and sending a stab of pain through my body from the movement, but I couldn’t care less. If I didn’t think it might shove one of my broken ribs into my lungs, I’d have fucked her right then. No, made love to her. God help me.
“After you agreed to a death match, I was fairly certain you did,” she said with a small smile, “but I didn’t think you’d admit it.”
Sometimes I forgot how well she’d come to know me. That she still wanted to be with me filled my heart with a strange sense of comfort but also with a bone-deep fear I hadn’t felt in a long time. The idea of a death match with Remo hadn’t scared me, death and pain certainly didn’t, but Leona’s love and my love for her scared me shitless. It was something I’d just have to deal with because Leona wasn’t going anywhere, and I wouldn’t stop loving her.
CHAPTER 26
LEONA
Fabiano’s bruises and cuts had healed. Roger’s Arena had been renovated, but I was no longer working for him. Fabiano didn’t want me to. After all, now I was officially his girl. Even my mother stopped selling her body because she didn’t have to do it anymore. She got her meth from Fabiano. The Camorra had more than enough of the toxic stuff. It wasn’t what I’d wanted for her, and I still wished she’d stop taking the shit altogether, but it was her choice; I’d done what I could for her.
Suddenly people treated me differently. With respect. Not because of who I was but because of who I belonged to: The Enforcer of the Camorra.
It was nice in some regard, but I still preferred people respect me for my own accomplishments. One day perhaps.
I sat quietly beside Fabiano, watching Nino Falcone destroy his opponent in the fighting cage. Remo sat at the same table, but I ignored him. He was being civil toward me since the fight to the death, and I treated him with the respect he expected as Capo. I did it for Fabiano and because I wasn’t suicidal. But I’d never like him. Too little humanity remained in him—if it had ever been there in the first place. His two brothers were at the table too. Savio, who whistled whenever his brother landed a hit, and Adamo, who seemed drawn into himself, not once glancing toward the cage.
Fabiano traced a hand up my thigh, startling me. My eyes met his then quickly did a scan of our surroundings. People were mesmerized by the fight and didn’t pay attention to what was going on underneath our table.
Fabiano turned his attention back to the fight as well, but he kept stroking the inside of my thigh. Nino threw his opponent into the cage, and the room exploded with applause. Fabiano slipped his hand beneath my panties, finding me aroused, which was usually the case when he touched me. He leaned over, his breath hot against my ear. “I hope this isn’t because of Nino,” he said huskily.
I rolled my eyes.
“Tonight I’m going to fuck you in that cage.”
He dipped a finger between my folds, and I had to stifle a groan. Remo’s eyes slid over to me, and I quickly closed my legs, forcing Fabiano to pull his hand away. He smirked then commented on a move Nino did with his leg as if nothing had happened.
With an audible crack, Nino broke his opponent’s arm. Adamo jerked back his chair and stood, eyes wild, then he turned and hurried off toward the exit. I wasn’t sure why, but I pushed my own chair back and followed him. He was a Falcone, Remo’s brother, but he was also only thirteen. And he obviously wasn’t coping with what happened the last couple of weeks. I caught up with him in the parking lot, his hand on the door of a sleek red Ford Mustang.
“Your car?” I asked jokingly.
“Remo’s,” Adamo said, twisting car keys between his fingers.
“He lets you drive it?” I doubted anyone would let a thirteen-year-old drive a car around Vegas, but Remo didn’t exactly play by the rules.
Adamo turned angry eyes toward me. “No, he’ll probably kick my ass. I stole the key.”
“Oh.” He was still watching me, still twisting the key as if he needed the smallest reason to stay. I took a step closer. “I don’t enjoy the cage fighting. Too brutal.”
“Not as brutal as real life.”
Mob life. His life ... and now mine as well. “I dream about the attack.” And about the hours before it, the fear of the death match.
He looked down at the key in his hand. “I shot someone.”
“I know,” I said quietly and took another step forward. I put my hand on his forearm lightly. His eyes met mine. Only thirteen and they looked jaded. “It was self-defense.”
“It won’t always be. I’m a Falcone. Soon, I’ll be a Camorrista.”
“True. But who says you’ll have to hurt people. You could do street races. It’s a big part of the business, right? So it would be good to have a Falcone showing off what he can do. I hear you are quite good already.”
His lips twitched. “Yeah. But Remo thinks I’m too young.”
“Once you’re inducted, I’m sure he’ll change his mind. If you can handle a gun, you can race a car, don’t you think?”
He shook his head slowly. “Remo will attack the Outfit in retribution. He will need a fighter, not a race driver.”
I’d figured as much from Fabiano’s cryptic comments these last few days. Things would get rough pretty soon. “Why don’t you come back inside? Stealing your brother’s car won’t get you any favors.”
His eyes shifted between the car and the bar. Then he closed the door. We turned and headed back toward the entrance, where Fabiano was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.
Adamo winced.
“Have you been spying on us?” I asked.
He pushed off the wall. “You both have a penchant for getting into trouble.”
I huffed.
Fabiano caught Adamo’s gaze and put a hand on his shoulder. “Running won’t help.” He poked his index finger against Adamo’s forehead. “Can’t run from what’s in there. Regret and guilt, they follow.” Fabiano touched Adamo’s forearm, and the boy gave a small nod as if he understood.
Fabiano tousled his hair. Adamo pulled back in protest. Then Fabiano feigned an attack and a grappling match ensued. After a moment, Fabiano pushed a smiling Adamo toward the door. “Inside.”
Adamo entered the bar, and we followed. Remo’s eyes zeroed in on us at once. His brother put the key down in front of h
im then slumped back in his chair.
Fabiano and I took our seats, and he took my hand under the table, linking our fingers.
Remo leaned over to me, and I tensed. Fabiano squeezed my hand in support, but his eyes were on the fight. “What did you do to stop him from driving off?”
It took effort to hold Remo’s fierce dark eyes. “Tried to make him see light in the dark.”
“Like you did for him,” he said with a tilt of his head. It wasn’t a question.
I glanced at Fabiano, but his eyes followed Nino’s movements in the cage ... at least it appeared that way. Before Remo turned away, a flicker of acknowledgement passed over his expression.
I didn’t think he was serious, but Fabiano and I were the last guests in the bar. Cheryl cleaned the counter, eying us wearily. “We should leave too.”
“I told you I’d have you against that cage tonight.” He turned to Cheryl and raised his voice. “You can leave. I have the keys. I will lock up later.”
Cheryl put down the cloth, picked up her purse, and walked past us. She’d been distant since I was officially at Fabiano’s side.
He took my hand and pulled me to my feet then led me toward the cage in the center. My core tightened in anticipation as he leaped onto the platform and pulled me along. I climbed into the cage then heard the familiar click of the door closing. A pleasant shiver raced down my spine. Fabiano pressed up against my body from behind, his erection digging into my lower back. I arched my butt against him, needing his hands on me. After his teasing during the fight, it had been difficult to grasp a straight thought. He pulled my dress over my head and dropped it onto the ground then pulled down my panties.
Fabiano urged me forward with his body until I had no choice but to brace myself against the cage. He ran his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, then gripped my hands, lifting them above my head. I linked my fingers in the mesh of the cage as Fabiano pressed my body against the cold metal. My nipples hardened immediately. The feel of the unrelenting steel against my breasts and Fabiano’s equally unrelenting muscles was oddly erotic. He stepped back and I huffed in protest, but when I looked over my shoulder, I saw him pull down his briefs. His cock was already hard for me. I shivered in anticipation. There was hunger in his eyes and the warmer emotion that he didn’t try to hide anymore. His movements were lithe and dangerous as he stalked toward me. Fighter and killer and mine. I turned back to the cage and leaned my forehead against it. Not able to see him approach heightened my senses, made me even more aroused.
He slid a hand between my thighs and urged them apart. I complied eagerly then waited for his fingers to send me to Heaven. Instead, I felt his tip press against my opening. Surprise filled me, but then I arched my butt to show him I didn’t mind him skipping foreplay. Being in a cage with him was all the foreplay I needed. But he didn’t push into me. Instead, he ran his tip up from my opening to my clit and back again. I moaned, arching against him for more friction. My nipples rubbed against the metal deliciously.
And then he pushed into me with one hard thrust. I cried out, my fingers clinging painfully to the wire mesh. He slid in and out. His hand glided over my stomach and lower until his fingers brushed my clit. I cried out again, and he thrust even harder into me. His fingers established a slow rhythm while he fucked me fast. My fingers on the mesh tightened painfully as a wave of pleasure swept through me. I cried out his name, half delirious from the force of my orgasm. I had trouble staying upright. My fingers loosened their grip on the mesh fence, and Fabiano’s hands covered mine, linking our fingers and holding me up.
His pelvis hit my butt again. I whimpered. The sensations were almost too much, but Fabiano knew no mercy. His pelvis slammed against my butt over and over again as he drove himself even deeper into me. Dots danced before my vision. “Oh God,” I gasped. His next thrust catapulted me into sweet oblivion, a darkness of heightened senses and overwhelming pleasure. He turned me around and lowered me to the ground then lifted my feet to his shoulders, raising my butt. His tip rested against my sensitive flesh. His blue eyes looked unhinged. Out of control for once. He slid into me slowly then back out. The way he was holding my hips, I could see his erection sliding between my folds as I felt my walls yielding to him. Fabiano’s muscles flexed as he took his time sliding in and out of me. I didn’t think I was capable of another orgasm after my last, but seeing Fabiano’s cock bury itself in me aroused me even more.
I began quivering. Fabiano smiled darkly and parted my folds with his thumbs, revealing my clit. If he touched me there, I’d fall apart. But he didn’t. He only watched his cock slide in and out, his thumbs so very close to where I needed his touch the most.
I reached out, too desperate for my next release to wait for him to make a move, but he caught my wrist. He raised my palm to his mouth and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my flesh, his tongue darting out and licking off sweat. I groaned at the sensation as it traveled all the way down to my clit. “Fabiano,” I begged. “Stop torturing me.”
A predator grin. “But it’s what I do best.”
Good God. There was no way I wasn’t going to Hell for this. And I couldn’t even pretend I cared. He slid into me again and then mercifully, he captured my clit between his fingers and twirled it between them. I came apart. My shoulder blades arched painfully against the floor, my nails searching for leverage. And then Fabiano followed after me with a curse and groan. I forced my eyes open, needing to see him. He had his head thrown back, eyes closed. The most amazing sight ever.
Slowly, he lowered his head and looked at me, his lips twisting wryly. “I truly corrupted you. You weren’t even worried someone could walk in on us.”
I turned my head to the side. The bar was deserted, but of course he had a point. We hadn’t locked the doors, and it wouldn’t be the first time Roger spent the night in his office.
I covered my eyes with my hand, trying to catch my breath. Fabiano took my wrist and pulled my shield away, then stood me up so I straddled his legs. I wrapped my arms around his neck, searching his eyes for confirmation that he was okay with me enjoying this so much. “
You were worth it, you know?” He nuzzled my neck and I smiled to myself.
“What exactly?” I whispered.
“The pain, the wait, Remo’s wrath. Everything.”
This was where it all started. Where my dreams of an ordinary life ended and something else, something equally good I realized now, had begun.
“I love you,” I breathed.
“And I love you,” he said. The words still sounded foreign from his lips.
I touched the tattoo on his forearm. “More than this.”
“More than this.” But because I knew he loved the Camorra, loved Remo as a brother—for whatever inexplicable reason—I would never ask him to choose.
He brushed my hair back from my sweaty forehead. “You should start looking into applying to college. University of Nevada is a good place to start.”
I pulled back. “I don’t have the money.”
Fabiano smiled. “I might as well put all the blood money in my account to good use. The Camorra still needs a good lawyer. Why not you?”
I couldn’t believe it. “You mean it?” I didn’t dare hope I was hearing him right.
He nodded. “But I have to tell you that it has to be in Vegas. I can’t let you go, being a possessive bastard and all.”
I kissed him, excitement surging through me.
“My possessiveness never excited you that much before,” he said wryly.
I shook my head, having a hard time forming words to express my gratitude. “I don’t want to leave Las Vegas. Because Las Vegas is your home and you are mine.”
He pulled me into a painful embrace and I sank into him. My protector.
PROLOGUE
KIARA
The Falcones were going to feel cheated. A sacrificial virgin was to be given to the monsters in Las Vegas for a promise of peace. I was never given the chance to be a virgin. That c
hoice had been taken from me. Painfully ripped from me.
Fear, acute and raw, clawed at my chest as my husband led me into our room for the night and closed the door to the grinning faces of his brothers. Nino released me, and I quickly created distance between us, moving toward the bed.
Six years had passed, but the memories still woke me at night. I was scared of being close to a man, to any man, especially this man—my husband.
Standing a few steps in front of the bed, my eyes swept over the white sheets—sheets my family expected to the see stained with my blood in the morning.
Blood that wouldn’t be there.
I crept closer to the bed. There had been blood the first time, the second time, and even the third time. Lots of blood, pain, terror, and begging. There had been no presentation of the sheets back then. Our maid, who had never come to my aid, cleaned them.
I wouldn’t beg tonight. It hadn’t stopped my abuser many years ago.
It wouldn’t stop my husband.
I knew the stories. I had seen him in the cage.
My only consolation was that I doubted he could break me more than I already had been all those years ago.
