Inevitable : Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance (King Crime Family Book 2)

by C. Hallman

  What if he pushes me back down? I clamp my jaw closed, forcing the thought away. If this fucker pushes me...

  The man steps back, allowing me to move upward on the ladder until I am almost out. Leaning forward, I pull myself out of the hole and through the dirt and grass, but there is nothing to hold on. My foot slips from the top step, and I start to slide back down.

  A shriek rips from my chest as I dig my fingers deep into the dirt. For a moment, I think I’m going to fall back into the hole, breaking my fucking neck for sure. My heart stops, and pure terror paralyzes my body.

  In a flash, the new guy lunges for me and grabs my arms. He pulls me up like I weigh nothing, and releases me in the next instant. I slump to the ground, trying to catch my breath.

  As relieved as I should feel, my muscles ache, and fear lingers as I find myself in a compromising position on all fours. I pull myself from my knees, getting my footing ever so slowly.

  “Oh, no, you don’t…” Asshole smirks as he grabs my shoulders. My knees wobble as his hands push me down, keeping me in place.

  “Let go of me,” I grit through my teeth. I’m so over being treated like dirt. Crouching down on his heels, so we are eye level, I take in his familiar-looking eyes. They are a deep green, and within them are the answers to the questions I long to know.

  One of his hands leaves my shoulder and reaches for my face. His thumb grazes the bottom of my chin. I flinch away, turning my head away from him.

  “I know why he wants you… Your defiance can be smelled from miles away.” His breath is cool against my face, and all I want is to turn and spit right into it. My emotions are all over the place, but one thing hasn’t changed—I’m mad as all fucking hell.

  “I’m not defiant, asshole. I’m just not one for being held in a hole in the ground, having buckets of water thrown on me, and being talked down to like a fucking dog. Defiance isn’t even the word to describe how you make me feel.” I’m seething.

  Shaking his head, he grabs his mask and pulls it off.

  “Eli…” I gasp, not sure if I am happy or scared to see him. Did Enzo send him? Or is he working with Mack? He seemed surprised by Mack’s betrayal, and he was shot, but he seems fine now. Was that all an act? Did he betray Enzo as well? Shit, I don’t know what to believe.

  I watch as the side of his lips lift into a half-smile.

  With a blink of my eye, he is standing again, his voice raised as he laughs at me. Confusion settles into my bones. What the hell is he doing here?

  “Your face. It’s hilarious.” I listen to him talk while coming to a stand as slow as possible.

  “Do you even know why you’re here?” Eli asks as if that is the most prevalent question right now.

  “I think we went over this already, but let me tell you why I think I’m here.” I pause a moment surveying the land. There is a clearing with trees on all sides, and we are deep in the woods. My breaths come in as pants as my eyes catch on an old rotting stump off in the distance.

  “You were saying…” He mocks, his eyes glittering with amusement, and though I can see this is all funny to him, there is a darker secret being kept in his eyes.

  “You know why I’m here. You know something…” I growl, not caring if my accusation gets me thrown back in the hole. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks down at me.

  “And you know nothing…”

  “Tell me.” I refuse to let him taunt me. I need answers. I need to know why I’m here… here in this place I know so well.

  “Tell you what? That Enzo is dead, and your father is hiding you in a hole near your own home?” My eyes grow big, and my heart races as I take a step back. Did he say Enzo is dead? No! It can’t be. I heard Mack. Enzo is alive.

  “It’s shocking to see someone pulled from your life, isn’t it? Shocking to know your daddy isn’t the person you thought he was?”

  No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop a tear from escaping my eye. One single tear. One single fucking tear defines my life.

  “Enzo wasn’t pulled from my life, and my dad... he would never.” The words slip from my mouth, but does that make them true? Is my dad the person I think he is?

  Eli smirks, his body eating up what little space is separating us.

  “Stop. You know nothing!” I yell, reaching out to push him away with my hands.

  “I do know something…” he barely whispers as he grabs my wrists, stopping my attack on him. “I know these men were given direct orders to let you rot in this hole. To let you die. And those orders came from your father.”

  “Liar,” I say between clenched teeth and with narrowed eyes.

  “You know I’m not lying. You know this is your property. You know your father put you here... and now I’m letting you go.”

  “Letting me go?” I whisper, taking a couple steps back. He is letting me go? This must be a joke.

  “Yes. Letting you go, but first, you have to do something for me.”

  “I’m not doing anything for you.” My voice squeaks with anxiety as he reaches for me again.

  “Yes, you are…” he yells, his hands biting into my shoulders.

  “Get your fucking hands off me.”

  “Hit me,” he growls.

  “What? No.” Now, I know this is all a game to him. He is not letting me go. He wants me to fight him.

  He smirks, and the look alone causes my belly to roll. “I bet I could get you to hit me. All I would have to do is slide my hand between those pretty little…”

  “STOP! Leave me alone,” I cry, taking a step away from him. I can’t tell if he is being serious or baiting me.

  “Make me…” His voice holds a darkness I want to run from. The green of his eyes grows darker in that one single moment. My eyes slide over his body, landing on his feet as I watch him advance on me. Every step he takes, I match with a step back.

  “Just let me go. I’ll run as fast as I can, and you can tell them whatever you want.” Real fear burrows into my mind.

  “Your dad is a fucking monster, just like the man you claim to love. Neither one of them wants you anymore. I mean, seriously—if they did, don’t you think they would have come for you already? You are nothing more than a fucking bargaining piece to them. They used you! Used you to bring the other one down... and after I see how sweet that cunt of yours is, you are dead.”

  He is lying. I know he is.

  “Stop lying to me,” I scream as he reaches for my hair. Grabbing a fistful, he pulls on it roughly, making my head snap to the side.

  Fighting myself for the last bit of sanity I have left, I grab his wrist, trying to make him loosen his grip. Before I can convince myself this is a part of his game, I whip my free hand out and slap him across his face. The instant burn soothes the raging storm inside of me as I watch a smirk come across his face.

  “That’s it, darling. Get mad, get fucking angry,” he spews at me right before he stretches his arms out as if he is the king of the fucking world.

  “Look around, take a good look. It’s not a lie. All the proof you need is in front of you, behind you. It’s surrounding you, for fuck’s sake, if you would only open your eyes,” he whispers, his breath against my cheek.

  “Stop. Just stop.” I hold my hands out, stopping any further assault by him. His hard chest brushes against my fingers. The warmth of his skin against mine sparks something in me.

  “If I threw you on the ground right now and fucked the daylights out of you, what would you do? Would you scream?” He taunts, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Better yet, I bet you would love it… You would love my cock. I’ve been thinking about your cunt since that night in the basement. I know you wanted it. Fucking maid ruining the moment.”

  My already clenched fist reaches out, slamming into the side of his jaw. My skin stung with the connection.

  “That’s all you got?” he grits out. Giving him a you’re-fucking-crazy-and-you-know-it look, I pull back and kick him right in the shin. Then I do it again for good meas
ure.

  “Fuck!” I hear him mutter under his breath. “Now run…” Run? He wants me to just run away? I’m never going to make it. Why can’t he just take me to Enzo?

  “But...”

  “No buts, fucking run. Run until you get to your old house.”

  “If my father is behind this, why would I go there?” I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I believe Eli. I believe that my father has something to do with me being here.

  “Go there. Enzo will be there. Tell him he owes me one.”

  He winks at me as he crawls around on the ground as if I had actually kicked his ass. Inside, I smile, but deep in the bottom of my belly, a snake of anxiety slithers its way through me. What awaits me once I get to the house? Is Enzo really there, and what about my father? I don’t know the answers, but I’m about to find out.

  I take off in a dead run toward the house. I will find out what my father’s intentions were all along. The pain in my limbs and the harshness of the ground beneath my bare feet almost makes me stop running, but I don’t—not when my life depends on it.

  4

  Enzo

  My body is begging for me to kill someone, something, anything. I want revenge, but more than that, I want answers. I want to know what the fuck happened. Why Mack betrayed me, where Amara is, and if her father actually killed my mom.

  Eli called out of the blue this morning, telling me to meet him here today. He has been acting strange, and I’m not sure what to expect. After Mack’s betrayal, my level of trust has dropped substantially, which includes believing anything Eli says. This could be a trap, which is exactly why I didn’t tell Jared to come with me.

  Even more suspicious is where I am. John’s house. Amara’s childhood home. As I park the SUV at the end of the driveway, I look down the long dirt road. My leg is still fucked up, but I swallow the pain as I start walking, dragging my leg behind me, a trail of dust in my wake.

  I wonder if John is here. I’ve been keeping eyes on this house, and he hasn’t been here in weeks.

  If he is now, if he really did kill my mother, I will end him. I will kill him today. I may love Amara, but if her father really killed my mother, there will be no amount of love to make up for the hate surging through me. I would kill her father in a heartbeat, not caring if I hurt her in the process.

  My mind wanders. I start thinking about all the things I shouldn’t. Like how many times Amara had walked down this same road as a child. Had she run and skipped or simply walked with her head held high?

  In no time at all, my mind snaps back to the present as I come around the bend and catch the first glimpse of the dilapidated farmhouse. It needs work, like serious work. The gutters look as if they haven’t been cleaned in months, and the shutters are falling from the windows. The once white paint is peeling away, making the house look like a grayish speck.

  If he was nothing more than a farmer, why does his house look like this? Why does all of this seem ridiculous? Unless Mack was right, and he isn’t a farmer at all. My mind whirls as I get closer to the house.

  There is one single vehicle parked in the driveway. Surprisingly, it’s not John’s rusted old truck. It’s a sleek black Lexus.

  Slowly, I walk up and around the car, my hand on my gun. I creep up the front steps of the porch. I know the fucker is here and probably sitting in this house, watching and waiting.

  The boards underneath my feet creak with every step I take, giving away my presence. Cursing under my breath, because I just lost the element of surprise, I open the front door.

  “I knew you would come eventually.” His voice is raspy, and cigar smoke fills my nostrils. I’m not even all the way through the door, and my gun is drawn. Small talk isn’t my thing.

  Stepping over the threshold, I take in the house again. It looks very much the same—no one has cleaned up since we left. John’s blood is still staining the floorboards.

  “If you knew I was coming, then you should’ve prepared yourself.” My voice is full of anger. Not just because of my feelings toward him—for something he may or may not have done, but because of the situation he brought Amara into. He was reckless, careless, and it was a fucking load coming from someone like me, but even I knew it.

  “Prepared for what exactly?” he retorts, smirking at me as he blows a puff of smoke out. I stand at the entrance to the living room. He is dressed in a suit, sitting casually as ever. Long gone is the poor, helpless farmer. Fuck, I should just kill him right now—after all, this is all a ploy.

  “You’re dressed for the occasion now, aren’t you?” I mock back. “Black suit for your funeral.”

  His eyes grow large as he sets the cigar down on an ashtray. “Why would you be so foolish and kill me when I know where Amara is?”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I’m torn, feeling like I’m being ripped in two directions. I need to find Amara, but the desire to avenge my mother runs deep. That’s what has been the essence of my life for so long. I need to know. I need closure before I can find happiness.

  “Because you took more from me than your daughter. Tell me what you know about my mother’s death,” I demand.

  “You know then, don’t you? You know I took your mom’s pathetic fucking life while she hid you from us.” He laughs, and the sound causes my insides to quake with anger. My finger is getting really fucking trigger happy.

  “Why? Why did you kill her? Who do you work for? Tell me the truth, or I’ll put a bullet through every bone in your body until I get an answer,” I spit at him, my gun aimed and ready. I’m gonna kill him either way… how quickly that will happen is up to him.

  He shifts in his seat before standing. His eyes show nothing but hate and anger. Not an ounce of remorse, and for a smidge of a second, I wonder if this is what I look like. Shaking my head, I push the thought away—I’m nothing like him.

  Laughing, he says, “Why do you want to know? You’ll kill everyone? Every single person who may or may not have an answer? What about my daughter? She has answers. She knows shit, but yet you still wanted between her legs. Was it good?” What a sick fucker.

  Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him. “Amara has nothing to do with this.” I force out the lie easily. She has everything to do with this.

  “Oh, but she does. She has every fucking thing to do with it. The both of you are just too stupid to see it.” My anger is building to new heights. He is toying with me, and I’m letting him.

  “I don’t give a shit about Amara. I want answers, and I won’t be leaving here without them.”

  A loud gasp sounds behind me, and I hold my breath for a moment before stepping back and tilting my head enough to see her. My eyes land on her dirt-covered body, and I almost lower my gun. The urge to go to her and see if she is okay is slowly taking over. I have to keep up this facade a little longer.

  The condition she is in is enough to make me pull the fucking trigger and put a bullet in his head. Her hair is matted, dirt caked on her face, and her clothes are a mess. She looks as if she has been held up in a dirt pile.

  John mumbles something under his breath, making me drag my eyes back to him. He used Amara’s entrance as a distraction, pulling a gun out and pointing it at me.

  Fucking great.

  “Amara, how did you get here?”

  His statement has my stomach dropping, and I can’t imagine how deeply his words cut Amara. He is asking how she got here, not how she is or if she is okay. Clearly, he knew where she was all along.

  “How did I get here?” She repeats his words, agony dripping from her voice. “Why the fuck did you put me in a hole in the fucking field? Why the hell—” She stops mid-sentence, her voice cracking, unable to finish.

  “Amara.” Her father scolds her like a child. Like she is the one to blame for all of this. He sighs deeply as if he is about to explain himself, but the words never come.

  A moment of silence settles over us before Amara finds her voice again. “You used me. You put me in a fucking hole, and
you lied to me. Why? Why would you do this to me?” Deep betrayal is written all over her beautiful face as the words flow freely from her lips.

  Rolling his eyes, he smiles. “I was protecting you, child. Simple as it is, I knew you wouldn’t stay away from him.” What a sad excuse of a man.

  “Lies,” she mumbles again as if in disbelief. “All you do is lie.”

  “It’s not a lie. I’m trying to protect you. Did someone touch you? Hurt you while you were here? No, because I told them I would kill anyone who put their hands on you. I love you, and you heard it out of his own mouth, he doesn’t care about you. All he cares about is answers.”

  A small wave of relief washes over me as I listen to him, and I take in Amara. I can see the doubt in Amara’s features, which means he is telling the truth, at least to some degree. No one touched her while she has been captive. She might be dirty and upset, but at least no one broke her, no one raped or beat her.

  Amara looks conflicted. I know she is trying to figure out who to believe, and I can’t blame her. She has every right to be wary of both of us.

  My gaze is ping-ponging between John and Amara’s tearful face when I catch the smirk on his face. He wants to use her against me. He wants to hurt me even more than he already has.

  Still, I wonder if there is the slightest truth in his words. Did he really protect her from his men? Is there a small part of him that does care about her?

  More importantly, can I use that against him?

  I have to take the chance, even if I’m going to regret this later. Turning around fast, I reach out, gripping Amara by the arm. She trips, coming out of her trance as I pull her body in front of mine. I place the barrel of the gun at her temple and wait for him to say something.

  I can practically hear Amara’s heart beating out of her chest, her blood rushing through her veins. Does she think I would actually shoot her?

  Looking past her shoulder, I catch sight of John with a huge smile on his face.

  “You actually expect me to believe you would kill her? I know how you treated her while she was staying with you. You barely laid a hand on her. Now you’re threatening me with this?”