Roxanne (The Italian Cartel Book 2)

by Shandi Boyes

  “Where is he?” I ask, put off by the silence even with my hangover relishing it. Smith isn’t much of a talker, but when he’s paired up with Rocco, a girl can hardly get a word in. “I thought our flight left at eight?”

  Rocco shrugs. “It does, but I don’t know where he is.”

  I shoot my eyes to Smith. He can’t brush off my inquisitiveness as easily as Rocco. He knows the insides of a monkey’s butt.

  When my glare becomes too much for Smith to bear, he gabbles out, “He told me he didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “So,” I snap back with a grimace. “This isn’t a standard day. It’s important.” From what I gathered from eavesdropping on Rocco and Smith’s conversation the past forty minutes, our arrival at Hopeton this morning will be quickly followed by a trip to my family ranch. If it’s the dumping ground Audrey was taken to, we’ll know by the end of today.

  “He only requests not to be disturbed when he needs a few hours away from the hell-hole he’s been living in the past two years. If he doesn’t take a breather, Roxie, he’ll crack.” Rocco intertwines his tattooed fingers. “This is only his second timeout since Fien was taken. The first was the night you wined and dined his guests.”

  “The night you took me to his office?” I’m not stupid, I can feel the nervy edge pumping out of Rocco, but I want to get my facts straight before I exert myself in a way I’ve never done before.

  When Rocco lifts his chin, I lock my eyes with Smith’s. “Find him.” I hold my finger in the air when he attempts a rebuttal. “Did that sound like I was asking?”

  He smiles a full-toothed grin, loving my gall. However, he doesn’t give in. “If I disturb him when he asked not to be, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “Will it be worse than the hell he’s been living in the past two years?” I don’t wait for him to answer me. I can see the truth in his eyes, smell it slicking his skin. “If he cracks it, I’ll take the blame. I’m the reason he’s AWOL, aren’t I?”

  Their lack of denial stabs tiny knives into my chest. Mercifully, they don’t cause me to bleed out before I see Rocco give Smith the go-ahead in the corner of my eye.

  “All right,” Smith breathes out as he grabs his laptop bag from the floor of the Range Rover. “But I’m denying any knowledge of this when the proverbial shit hits the fan.”

  Not even two seconds later, his face screws up in shock. “He’s not on-site.”

  He isn’t the only one surprised. This compound was designed to ensure Dimitri’s guests have everything they could possibly want. They don’t need to leave for anything, so what possible reason could Dimitri have to abscond these four walls?

  Too inquisitive to listen to the warning gurgles of my stomach, I lean over to Smith and Rocco’s half of the cab, so I can peer at the monitor of Smith’s laptop. A state-of-the-art tracking software program reveals Dimitri’s phone was last pinged in an industrial estate way too sleazy looking for a man with a lot of cash to burn.

  Ignoring the pang in my chest warning me that this is a bad idea, I instruct the driver to take us to the location Smith honed in on. When he places the address into the GPS’s mainframe, it advises us that Frosty Kinks is two point four miles from the airstrip we were supposed to arrive at ten minutes ago. It also highlights the services we could obtain once we arrive. They all point toward one field—the adult entertainment industry.

  When the wheels on the SUV start churning over the miles, I sink back into my chair before connecting my eyes with Rocco’s. “When did you last talk to him?”

  He shakes his head at the accusation in my eyes, wordlessly advising me he had no clue Dimitri was at a strip club, much less the fight we had before he went there. “Last time I saw him, he was with you.”

  Smith raises his hands in the air like he’s about to be arrested when my narrowed gaze snaps to him. “Same as Rocco. I had false admission papers to a rehab clinic to lodge. I didn’t have time for snooping.”

  “So he went to a strip club by himself? Sure he did…”

  My teeth grit when Rocco has the audacity to laugh. I don’t know what the hell he thinks is funny. I’m anything but amused. “You’re super cute when you are jealous, Princess P.”

  “Jealous? Please. I’m hungover and frustrated you dragged me out of bed for this.” I’m such a liar. I could only be more jealous if I were green. Furthermore, I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I was too busy pacing the room awaiting Dimitri’s return. The only reason I stopped wearing a hole in the rug was because Rocco advised our transport was ready. I threw on clothes in under ten seconds and bolted outside, certain I was moments away from apologizing to Dimitri in person.

  Alas, the only thing hearing my regrets this morning is my grumbling stomach.

  Upon spotting the lie in my eyes, Rocco’s grin doubles. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  Too tired to lie, I shake my head.

  My fast switchback to honesty doubles the smug grin on Rocco’s face. “How many women do you think Dimitri slept with the week he found out Audrey was pregnant?”

  “I don’t want to know,” I reply before I can stop myself. Just considering the many ways Fien could have been conceived has me all types of jealous. I don’t need more insanity added to the mix.

  Although Rocco’s lips remain tightly locked, the gleam in his eyes tells me it’s a number I don’t want acknowledged. It makes my stomach swirl with more intensity than my wish to fall into a drunken stupor last night. I feel seconds from barfing.

  Eager to test the durability of my stomach, Rocco asks, “How many women do you think he’s slept with since you arrived on the scene?”

  My words are barely audible through my clenched teeth. “If you say more than one, you better hope your gun isn’t loaded, or I may blow someone’s brains out.”

  I don’t know whether to gleam or cry when Rocco’s boisterous laugh vibrates through my chest. It doubles the thump in my head while adding to the twists of my vodka-sloshed stomach. “Chick, chick boom! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so fucking under, even with the blood of your mommy on the cuff of his shirt, you still wanted to take his dick between your lips.”

  His chuckled words are like a cold, hard slap to the face. They bring me back to reality even more than the jab my heart was just hit with. “He tortured my parents.”

  “To save you being buried in the same ditch his wife is most likely in.” As quickly as Rocco’s laughter arrived, it vanishes. “Why do you think he didn’t kill them?”

  Although I know the answer, I’d rather he spell it out for me, so instead of nodding, I shrug instead.

  “Because the man is snowballing for you. You’ve got him so twisted up, he doesn’t know which end is up and which end is down. He’s got guilt by the bucketloads, remorse that won’t quit even when he works to the bone for twenty-four hours a day, and a hard-on for you that stays firm no matter how much you piss him off… but he has no clue how to deal with any of it. He thinks that by giving you an hour, he’s taking an hour from Fien, so imagine how fucked-up he feels when he realizes he wants to give you more than an hour.” He scoots to the edge of his seat before tapping his tattooed index finger on my knee. “He wasn’t like this with his wife. He didn’t beat her father because he hurt her or offer mercy to her mother to save her from being hurt. He didn’t care about her enough to even ask if she’d been hurt. That should say something, and it should have you playing on the same team.”

  Although I agree with him, there’s one part of his statement I can’t fix. “I can’t ease his guilt, Rocco.”

  He brushes off the genuine concern in my voice as if it’s fake. “Yeah, you can. You’ve just got to stop thinking you need to save him. He doesn’t need saving. And neither do you.” He lets out a chuckle. Even only knowing him for days, I know it isn’t his real laugh. “You can’t save someone who’s drowning if you don’t know how to swim.”

  My chance to reply is lost when the driver pulls in to the cu
rb at the front of Frosty Kinks. As the 3D imagery on Smith’s computer showed, it’s a seedy, low-grade establishment that would have lost clientele when they stopped accepting pennies.

  Rocco throws open his door before locking his eyes with mine. “Wait here with Smith, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “No,” I reply while shaking my head. “I can’t learn to swim if I’m not willing to jump into the deep end.” After scooting across the bench seat and slipping out onto the sidewalk, I shift my focus to Smith. “Call the airstrip and advise them we’re on our way. Offer them an incentive to ensure our time slot is held. If snow arrives early, our fastest transport home will take days. Dimitri will never forgive himself if his first slip-up in years delays the search for Fien for days, even if the weather is to blame.”

  “Now she gets it,” Rocco says with a smile as he slings his arm around my shoulders. “Now bring that bat to the game, so we can knock some sense into this neanderthal before he crawls into his cave for another long hibernation.”

  Five

  Dimitri

  As I make my way through the dimly lit space that gets shadier for every tanked step I take, I scan my eyes over the flurry of women vying for my attention. I’m drugged-out on the good shit I usually reserve for ‘guests,’ too drunk to feel my legs, and I’m reasonably sure I look like a pimp since I switched out my suit for a pair of gray sweatpants and a black baseball jacket, but the women lining the walls of the back room at Frosty Kinks still look at me like I’m a god.

  Although the outside of this establishment is as shoddy as hell, I’m reasonably sure I’m not the only high-end john they cater for. No one pays attention to the packaging when ordering a steak to devour. It’s all about the quality. The women eyeing me with hungry, wanton gazes aren’t as high-class as the ones who prance around my compounds, but they’ve definitely piqued the interest of my cock. He’s almost at half-mast. Another line of coke should see him reluctantly joining the party.

  He’s pissed at me, frustrated I won’t let him finish what he started two nights ago. He’s not the only one annoyed, but since I’m miles from my compound, spaced out of my brain, I’ll keep that story for another day.

  Right now, nothing but forgetting my pathetic life for a few hours is on my mind. I’ve snorted the drugs and sculled the whiskey, now I just need a plump set of lips to seal the deal.

  When I spot a woman who matches the one who won’t leave my fucking head, I stumble to her half of the room. The bottle I chugged down in the dusty lot has finally reached my veins, meaning it isn’t just my footing that’s a little unsteady, so are my words. “How much?”

  She bats her fake lashes, ignorant to the fact I’m already sold on what she’s selling. “For you, I’ll work for free.”

  “How much?” I repeat, shouting. I’m not seeking a relationship, commitment, or any of those other fucked-up things women seem to think they’ll get from a casual hook-up. I want my dick sucked, and I’m willing to pay for the privilege.

  When the blonde spots her competition hovering close, she pushes out, “Five hundred.” Her fee is much less than I expected to pay. I would have forked out five thousand if that’s what she requested.

  After pulling my wallet out of the pocket in my sweats, I toss a handful of hundred-dollar bills onto the floor before pivoting on my feet and making my way to the room the manager of Frosty Kinks set up especially for me. I rarely branch outside of my industry for services like this. However, his respect won’t go unnoticed. His girls will give my guests a pleasing array of new faces next month.

  Because the blonde had to collect her earnings from the floor, it takes her a couple of seconds to join me in a pod similar to the one I spanked Roxanne in days ago. Just recalling the heat of her skin when my palm connected with her ass has my cock rising to the occasion. I’m almost as thick as I was when I stuck my dick in her for the first time, although nowhere near as firm.

  Even fucked out of my head, my words still crack out of my mouth like a whip. “Close the door.”

  The blonde shudders from my roar before doing as instructed. My family name doesn’t have the notoriety it once had, but my reputation is well known. I don’t want my desperateness to get a feisty bleach-blonde with gleaming green eyes out of my head circulated amongst my enemies. Those fuckers are already riding my ass. I can’t give them more fuel.

  Pissed, my next lot of demands are almost abusive. “Remove your skirt and bra but leave your panties on.” I don’t want her for her cunt. I want her for her lush green eyes and fuckable lips. “Once you’re done, get on your knees.”

  Disappointment makes itself known with my gut when the removal of her skirt reveals her sheer panties. I can see her cunt through the scant material. She’s a natural blonde. The knowledge will make it harder for me to pull off my ruse, but I’m so desperate to lose myself for a couple of hours, I’m willing to give it a shot.

  When she lowers herself onto her knees, I pull her hair back into a low ponytail, then wrap the glossy locks around my fist. She may be about to suck my dick, but I’ll maintain all the control. One blonde has already caused me to lose my cool tonight. It won’t happen again.

  “Slower,” I demand when she tugs on the waistband of my sweatpants with too much eagerness. I want her fumbling like she doesn’t know what she’s doing, somewhat naïve. I want to pretend she’s Roxanne for just a minute.

  “That’s better,” I growl on a moan when she lifts her eyes to mine while sliding the elastic waistband over the bulge in my pants with painstaking slowness. Her eyes are a shade darker than Roxanne’s, but my coked-up head has a good imagination. “Take it out.”

  When her hands move to the waistband of my trunks, I scrub my thumb along her jaw, preparing it for the exhaustive activity it’s about to undertake. This occasion has been on the backburner for months. It won’t be a done-and-dusted event.

  The hooker’s submissiveness is hardening my cock, but it has nothing on the raging boner I get when the door of our private suite shoots open, and Roxanne steps into the sex-scented space.

  Six

  Roxanne

  Tension hisses in the air when my eyes bounce between Dimitri’s naked backside propped against a sturdy desk and a virtually naked blonde on her knees in front of him. She has his erect cock in her hand, and her red-painted lips are narrowing in on the bead of precum on the top. Not even my unexpected interruption has the bitch taking her eyes off her target. Her mark is locked and loaded, and she isn’t giving him up for anything.

  Like fucking hell she isn’t.

  Acting as if I’m double my height and weight, I scoop up the blonde’s clothes that are barely scraps of material from the floor, march across the room, then drag her away from Dimitri by the strands of her pretty little head. Her squeal at her hair being wretched out of her scalp has my heart falling from my chest, but it does little to slow me down. My anger arrived with barely a second to spare. Her mouth was a mere hair’s breadth from Dimitri’s cock. She was a second from tasting him how I never have.

  That’s unacceptable.

  “Get out.” I thrust her clothes into her silicon-filled chest before nudging my head to the door, my orders delivered with a vicious glare.

  “Rox—”

  “Don’t!” My nostrils flare as my squinted gaze shifts to Dimitri. Since the blonde is still on her knees, his erection is almost gouging her eyes out, and the blood of my father is still on his neck. Now is not the time for him to test me. And don’t get me started on how intoxicated this man is. Dimitri isn’t leaning against the desk for no reason. He can barely stand, for crying out loud. Payment or not, the blonde is more fucked in the head than my mother if she thinks this is acceptable.

  “You have a plane to catch.” I return my eyes to the blonde staring at me with a smidge of shock and a bucketload of annoyance. “We have a plane to catch.” My words are possessive and brimming with unwarranted jealousy. They rip the blonde’s heart out of her chest as effect
ively as mine was removed when the horrendous thoughts bombarding me during my search of Frosty Kinks came true. Although I’m confident she only felt the weight of Dimitri’s cock, who’s to say that would have still been the case if my hunt was delayed by a measly two seconds.

  The thought alone has me the most furious I’ve ever been.

  “Leave before I show you what happens when you touch something you don’t own.”

  Hearing my threat exactly how I intended, the blonde stammers out, “I didn’t know he was take—”

  “Go!” My roar kickstarts both her heart and her feet. She scampers up from her knees before making a dash for the door, her brisk exit faltered by Rocco entering from the other side.

  He works his jaw side to side while taking in Dimitri’s slouched frame. He’s so far down the rabbit warren, he can barely hold up his head.

  “Help me.” My tone is lower than the one I used on the hooker, but Rocco acts as if it was just as stabby. He steps back with his hands held in the air and an arrogant grin on his face.

  I discover the reason behind his lack of assistance when he chuckles out, “I ain’t helping you while his dick is hanging out. We’re tight, but we’re not that tight.”

  Before I can issue a single scold bubbling in my chest, a much more dangerous situation unfolds. Dimitri hasn’t noticed we have company. While his cock thickens to the point it must be painful, he scrubs the back of his fingers across my ruddy lips. “I bet your mouth tastes like candy.” Only now does it dawn on me that we’ve never kissed. He’s gone down on me, blew his load on my chest, and been inside of me like no other man ever has, but we’ve never kissed. “Your cunt is as sweet as candy, so I bet your lips are too.”

  While dropping one hand to his cock to squeeze it, he weaves the other one through my hair. It feels like time stands still when he drags my lips to within an inch of his. The man I can’t stop thinking about is right here, directly in front of me, but for the life of me, I can’t act on the impulses burning me alive.