Dark Betrayal (Famiglia Book 2)

by A. J. Daniels

  “Jesus Christ, Boss. She can’t be much older than eighteen. I have no intention of touching her with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Twenty-two.”

  Fuck me. I didn’t need to know her actual age. It doesn’t change a damn thing. I’m still fifteen years older than her.

  “I’m not fucking touching her,” I growl leaning my elbows on my knees, flicking the lighter in the open now.

  “Nobody said anything about touching her.” Braxton chuckles and if he wasn’t my Don and best friend, he would be wearing my blade. “Here,” he says, tossing a file in front of me. “Take the new guy and go collect my money.”

  “You want me to take fresh blood on a collection call?”

  He shrugs, amusement dancing across his face. “Let him learn from the best. Break him in.”

  I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face but take the file and move to the door.

  “Oh, and Alessandro, don’t fucking kill this one.”

  “No promises, Boss,” I smirk.

  ***

  I watch from the shadows as the new guy threatens to break the fingers of the associate who thinks he can play the Famiglia. So far, he’s doing good. The new kid, not the associate. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t start begging for his life soon. I’m still not sure why Braxton sent me along, looks like he has everything handled.

  Green eyes framed by long, black lashes fight their way through to the forefront of my thoughts. Then, my hands are back on that tight, tanned body, long midnight hair cascading down her back. My cock twitches behind the zipper of my jeans, forcing me to change my stance so I don’t embarrass myself.

  My mouth salivates at the thought of her writhing beneath me, screaming my name as she comes undone. In my head, her lips wrap around my cock, fingers gripping her head as I fuck her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock.

  My fists clench at my side. This is not the time to think of the girl. Forcing myself to pay attention to the scene in front of me, I notice the man in the chair is barely breathing, the new kid still delivering one solid punch after another. It’s obvious he’s not going to admit his transgressions, and I’ve about had enough of this.

  Pulling the gun from the waistband of my jeans, I aim and have a split second when the new kid rears back again to pull the trigger. A bullseye between the fucker’s eyes. The fresh blood calming me, albeit momentarily.

  “What the fuck, Alessandro? He was about to talk!”

  “He was already as good as dead.” I re-holster the gun and push open the basement door, taking the stairs two at a time until I can smell fresh air again. I’m going to catch shit from Braxton for killing the snitch, but I couldn’t give a shit right now. Right now, I just need a drink or two and a welcoming pussy.

  THE BAR IS packed by the time Stefan and I walk through the doors, but I spot her instantly sitting by herself at the bar, nursing a beer. Her dark hair is pulled up into a bun atop her head, showcasing her delicate neck. The arm of her shirt falls to reveal a smooth, tan shoulder and just enough hint of the top of a breast to elicit a growl from my chest.

  She hasn’t noticed me yet so I take the time to study her from across the packed room as Stefan and I take our usual seats in the booth at the back when the waitress places two cold beers in front of us. Her shoulders are hunched, her head down, eyes focused on fingers toying with the corner of the label on the bottle. Despite the fuck-off vibe she’s giving, she’s still garnering lots of attention from the male patrons. Male patrons that I won’t hesitate to put down if any of them so much as looks at her wrong. I make my way through the crowd, feeling the need to stake my claim in the crowded bar.

  My lips curl into a smirk when she stills against my chest. I lean forward, placing my hands on the bar on either side of her, caging her in. My already hard cock twitches when she sucks in a breath as my lips lightly skim up the curve of her neck, causing goosebumps to appear in their wake.

  “Baby, if you were that sexually frustrated you should’ve said something earlier.” I nip at her ear.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her chest heaves with the slight pant she’s trying to hide.

  I press in closer to her, making sure she can feel me hard behind my zipper. “You’re picking at the label on your beer,” I say by way of explanation.

  “So?” She relaxes into me, her lips falling slightly open when I kiss a spot beneath her ear.

  “You’re telling me that if I dip my fingers under your panties I won’t find you wet and hot for me? You want my cock, baby?”

  Her back straightens, and she tries to put as much space between us as she can with me bent over her. “Not interested. Sorry.” She gulps down the rest of her beer, signaling the bartender for a new one and avoiding all eye contact with me.

  That’s okay. I’ll give her, her space now, but at the end of the night, she will be wrapped around me, my cock buried to the hilt inside her.

  ***

  JESSIKA

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I wasn’t expecting him to walk into the same bar I’ve been sitting in for most of the evening. I was not prepared to deal with him tonight, hence the moment of weakness when I allowed myself to lean into him, touching him without actually touching him.

  God, he was right. I was sexually frustrated. I wanted him. I wanted him with a need I never knew existed until I saw him earlier today. I can’t mix business with pleasure, though. Or can I?

  Nope, allowing him to get close will only spell disaster. So why am I disappointed when he eventually moves away, choosing to take a seat on the other side of the bar. Hiding in the shadows, the overhead lights of the bar glint off the silver of the lighter he’s flicking open and close.

  You want my cock, baby?

  I did. I do.

  “What’s a pretty girl like you doing drinking in a bar by herself?”

  I glance out the corner of my eye. This guy’s not nearly as tall as Alessandro, and he’s not bad looking either. Blond hair, blue eyes, a swimmer’s body encased in an expensive suit, flashy gold watch on his left wrist. I can tell by his glassy eyes and wine flavored breath that he’s been here since leaving the office hours ago. Maybe a quick bathroom fuck with Mr. tries-too-hard is exactly what I need to get Hulk out of my head.

  “Well, I’m not alone now though, am I?” I say in my best sultry voice.

  Shock flashes in his eyes before it’s quickly replaced by lust, skimming down to check out my chest. “Buy you a drink?”

  On a normal night, it would piss me off that his eyes have remained glued to my chest as he asks me the question, but tonight, I couldn’t care less. I’m about to answer him when I feel a hard chest press into my back, strong arms wrapping around my waist.

  “Take a hike,” Alessandro says from behind me.

  Blondie moves to tell Alessandro to fuck off without taking his eyes off me, but when he lifts his eyes away from my chest and takes in the hulking monster at my back, he visibly stiffens, his Adam’s apple bopping with each hard swallow.

  Pussy.

  His fingers tighten around the wine glass in his hand, and then he scurries away. Eh, he probably wouldn’t have been worth it anyway. The guy drank wine for heaven’s sake. Not that there’s anything wrong with a man enjoying a glass of wine or two on occasion. Ugh, who am I kidding? I want a man who enjoys the stronger shit, whiskey, bourbon…the good shit. If I wanted someone who drank wine, I would bat for my own team. Does that make me shallow? Probably. Did I care? Right now… not one bit. I’m pissed that Hulk scared off my only prospect of getting lucky tonight.

  Unless…

  Nope, not going to happen. I shut that thought down immediately and dead bolt it. I would sooner go home and dig out my vibrator than give in to my body’s insistence on climbing the man standing behind me like a fucking tree.

  “Was that really necessary?”

  I shiver when his warm breath coasts over the nape of my neck. “I’m the only one who will be samplin
g this body of yours, Angel.”

  “So, what” I huff spinning in my chair to face him. “You’re just going to chase off every guy in this bar who hits on me?”

  Alessandro leans against the bar, crossing his massive arms over his chest, veins popping all down his forearms. I grip the wood bar a little harder, clenching my thighs together a little more.

  “In this bar. In this city.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Rough fingers grip my neck, forcing my head back. Alessandro leans down until our lips are inches apart. “Try me. You were mine the second you stumbled into my apartment.”

  “I don’t know what you’re smoking, but I’m not yours.”

  I feel his chest rumble against my arm when he chuckles, then his teeth nip along my jaw before capturing my lower lip and tugging. It takes all the strength I have left today to not moan.

  “Whatever you say, Angel,” he whispers in my ear.

  Cold air hits my neck when he removes his hand, and then he’s turning and striding out the front door. I pay the bartender and don’t bother finishing my now warm beer and go in search of one of the taxis that are usually parked along the street in front of the bar, trying like hell to not let my eyes search the parking lot for him.

  ALESSANDRO

  I AM A fucking idiot.

  I told myself I would stay far away from Jessika Tomlinson. I was not going to touch her with a ten-foot pole. She was too young. I knew she was far from innocent, though. She lived through and survived hell in that building two years ago. But her hell was nothing compared to what she would be facing if I allowed myself to take her to my bed.

  It wasn’t that I was afraid some stupid fuck would try and hurt her to get to me or Braxton like they had with Klara. No, I would burn them alive if they ever laid a finger on Jessika. It was that I didn’t trust myself around her. I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t hurt her because I would. I would break her, snap her in half until she was just a shell of the person she is. I didn’t trust that I could keep her safe from my own personal demons.

  “Alessandro! Alessandro, what did you do?” I hear mother ask in the distance. Her voice sounds distant, though. Panicked. Why does she sound so distant?

  I cock my head to the side, taking in the red, sticky liquid dripping from my small hands. It’s still warm. So warm. The metallic smell oddly comforting.

  No, this is wrong.

  How did I get here? Where’s father? Where’s Johnny? We were supposed to go play in the treehouse after school. Where was my brother? Why hadn’t he come to play?

  “Vince!” my mother yells in the distance. “Vincent!” her voice still sounds so panicked.

  “Don’t worry, Ma,” I try to soothe her. To let her know I’m okay.

  I wasn’t going to go play far. Just to the treehouse. But then my father’s there, his dark eyes rounding in… shock, panic? He says something to mother, but I don’t hear the words, I just keep staring at the red now staining my hands. Father begins to reach out to me, but stops suddenly and pulls back like I’ve hurt him. I’ll never hurt him or mother.

  Where’s Johnny?

  He’s still not here. Father reaches down in front of me, then hauls himself to his feet. My eyes focus enough to see Johnny lying in his arms. A tree branch sticking out of his little body. I cock my head to the other side, looking from the tree branch to the red on my hands.

  He didn’t want to play.

  I slam back the rest of the drink I poured as soon as I got home and head to my bedroom. Stripping down to nothing by the time I’ve reached the attached bathroom and turning the shower to the hottest it’ll go. This had become part of my daily ritual ever since the day I realized what I had done. I couldn’t get the water hot enough, couldn’t scrub myself clean enough to forget the memory of my little brother’s blood on my hands. Literally and figuratively.

  My parents never looked at me the same after that day. They never mentioned my crime either, to the cops or each other. It was like that day had never happened. It was also the day I learned how to hide a body so that no one would find it, and if they eventually did, I learned how to make it impossible to identify. My father was my teacher, and he was fucking good at it. That day was the day that cemented my future.

  I may be the Don’s right-hand man, but there was also no one who could make a body disappear like I could. I think my parents were both relieved and scared shitless when Braxton befriended me my first day at a new school. Of course, they already knew the rumors and reputation his family held, but I think part of them also knew that there would come a day when they couldn’t keep my demons satisfied any longer and were all too happy to pass that burden along to the De Lucas. Couldn’t say I blamed them either. Who would want to carry the burden of having a murderer as a son? Not just that, but a son who had murdered their youngest boy. Their baby.

  My parents’ supervision slowly became nonexistent when Braxton, Antonio, and I became inseparable. I spent more time at Braxton’s house with his family than with my own. Eventually, his dad told me to just move in, and I did. My father taught me how to hide bodies, Braxton’s father taught me how to hide who I really was until the time came that I needed to embrace the fucked up part of myself. When he died, it was like losing my own father.

  Blood may not have connected Braxton and me, but we were still family. Brothers. I will always have his back, and I know he has mine.

  Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around my waist on my way into the bedroom and flip the switch turning on the lamp on the bedside table. My phone is staring up at me like a curse on top the polished wood. I could text her or call her just to hear her voice.

  Just to hear her voice?

  What the fuck?! I glance down at my semi-hard cock.

  Nope, still have a dick.

  My shoulders slump in mock relief. What is it with this woman and turning me into a pussy? I want to fuck hers, not become one myself.

  Then why didn’t you?

  Sighing, I strip off the towel and climb beneath the clean sheets. I need to stop kidding myself. I am going to fuck Jessika Tomlinson. I just need to figure out how to do it without breaking her.

  ***

  JESSIKA

  “So, tell me again what the problem is, Jess, because I’m not understanding why you can’t just climb him like a tree for one night?”

  I groan, resting my forehead on my crossed arms as I sit bent over my best friend’s dining room table. There isn’t a problem, not really. The issue would be walking away after said one night. I don’t think any woman has been able to walk away from Hulk after just one night. I mean, the man was built for pure dirty, rough, slam-you-up-against-the-wall sex. The kind of sex you walk away from with scratches, maybe a little bruising, and definitely a little sore. Which is fine with me. I don’t want the sweet love-making most women want. I crave dirty, the rougher the better. The kind of sex I know Alessandro can give me.

  “You know why, Mel.”

  “Ah, yes,” she says, and I can hear her moving around her kitchen. “the little issue of your job.”

  “Wouldn’t call it a job. It’s not like I have a choice in the matter.” Sitting up straighter in my seat, I grab the liquor Mel poured for me the minute my ass hit the chair in her kitchen, and gulp it down in one swallow.

  “What would you call it, then?”

  The hiss of the eggs hitting the hot pan echo around the room, and I don’t even care that I’m day drinking at ten in the morning. Or would it be morning drinking? Fuck it, it’s drinking.

  “Punishment,” I spit out the word as I go about looking through her liquor cabinet until I spot my prize.

  “You could’ve said no. You know, put your foot down. Stand your ground and all that bullshit.”

  “And end up the one being buried six-feet under? No thanks.” I pour a couple fingers of the liquid and gulp it back.

  She sighs, turning the stove down before turning to face me. Her hands on her hips. “So, then, what’
s your plan, Jess?”

  Pour. Gulp.

  “I don’t have one currently.”

  Pour. Gulp.

  “Except for drink my expensive liquor, apparently.” She shoots me a glare.

  “Hey.” I shrug. “It’s either this or deal with the parentals.” At this point, it would make more sense to drink straight from the bottle, but I’m still a fucking lady. “I’d much rather day drink, thank you very much.”

  “You’re not going to find the answers at the bottom of that bottle, Jess.”

  She’s right. I know this. Nothing good ever comes from trying to lose oneself to the bottom of a bottle of bourbon. Fuck, that shit goes down smooth, though. But hey, one could try.

  I’m not an alcoholic. In fact, I barely drink, but between my father and Alessandro, it’s either drink or fuck, and right now I can’t do the latter.

  “I should go,” I say, placing my glass in the sink. “Have to sober up before doing a job tonight.”

  “You’re not driving anywhere. Take the guest room.”

  A glance over my shoulder confirms that the deep voice belongs to Mel’s new husband and a royal pain in my ass. Okay, that’s not fair. Corey is a great guy, and he treats my best friend like a damn queen. But lately he’s been doing this whole protective-big-brother thing with me, and it’s starting to grate on my nerves. I’ve never had anyone look out for me, never needed it, and I don’t plan on ever needing nor wanting it. I look out for myself. Always have. Always will.

  You were mine the second you stumbled into my apartment.

  I shove the memory away. I’m not his. I don’t belong to anybody. I’m pretty sure if Alessandro knew the real Jessika Tomlinson, he wouldn’t be so quick to make good on his statement.

  “I’m good, Cor.”

  “You’re drunk at ten thirty in the morning, Jess. You’re not good.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Yeah? How much have you had to drink, then?”

  “Three drinks.” The minute the words leave my lips, I feel my body sway at the same time Corey morphs into two. Shit, okay, so maybe I drank a lot more than I thought. Fuck, what was wrong with me.