My girl. My sweetheart.
Three men run out with guns firing, and a bullet hits me right in the chest. I fire off both guns. One man’s downed immediately but the other two move off to the side to take cover behind an old rusted car. Tommy and Anthony go up the right side and duck as the guns come up and fire aimlessly. I take a step forward and aim. I hit the hood right where the hand was and hear the bastard swear. That’s not good enough. If he’s talking; he’s breathing. I walk forward and watch my guys go up the right side, sneaking behind. I’ll distract them. I run up close and fire continuously. Four more shells each. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! They sound off one after another, after another, until I’m firing blanks. I keep pulling the trigger, letting the empty clicks fill the air. I want them to know I'm empty. I'm counting on them to stand up and fire at me. And they do. As soon as they’re visible, shots fire from behind them and both men only get a single shot off. One just misses me. But the other lands on my chest, close to the first shot that hit me.
It hurts like hell.
I look down and make sure the Kevlar held up and there’s no blood. I’ll fucking live. But not without my girl. I take the pain and keep moving as I reload my guns. I need to find her.
I know there are rooms in the back. She’s got to be in one of them. My phone’s in my pocket. It’s silent. I don’t know how they’re doing at the clubhouse. But until it goes off, I've got to assume she’s here. My eyes raise and my guns point at a door as I hear bullets firing in the distance, somewhere in the back, and a terrifying scream.
Elle!
All at once we run down the hall, my only focus on the door. I need to get to her. She’s here. I heard her.
Gunshots fire over and over. Three shots, four shots, five shots. No!
I kick the door and it flies open. I run through ready to fire, and instead I stand in shock.
Anthony and Tommy stop behind me. I hear Uncle Enzo yell something from the back, but I don’t know what. All my focus is on my girl.
She’s got blood on her face. A nasty bruise on her chin. And she standing, breathing heavy, with her arms straight, holding a small gun. It’s pointed down at a short, bald man lying face down on the floor. His leather jacket is speckled with bullet holes and blood. So much blood, pooling around his body.
“Elle,” I call out to her, and lower my guns. I see Anthony and Tommy searching the room. I hear a yell clear outside the room, it sounds like Pops. But I’m not paying attention like I should. I walk to my girl. She hasn’t moved, except for her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath as she keeps the gun still pointed at the dead man.
“Sweetheart?” I try to get her attention, and it works. Her startled eyes find mine, and her body relaxes finally. She drops the gun to the ground. It falls to the cement floor with a loud clank and she runs to my arms.
Her small body wraps around me and she holds onto me tight. I hold her to me, loving how she’s clinging to me. But hating that she had to do this. Hating that she went through this.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” I finally ask her. She doesn’t pull away and doesn’t answer.
“We gotta go, Vince,” Tommy says to my left. I turn, still holding her to me and see all the guys looking at us. I nod my head and kiss her hair.
“Sweetheart, are you alright?” I ask again. My heart won’t beat right until I hear her talk. I know it won’t. I just need to hear her say it. I need to hear her voice to really believe I’m holding her in my arms.
She nods her head in my chest and pulls back. Tears run down her face. “I’m okay,” she answers me, and then wipes her face. My lips crush hers in a passionate kiss. Her hand wraps around my neck and she kisses me back with the same ferocity.
“I was so scared, Vince,” she whispers with her eyes closed as she pulls away.
I kiss the tip of her nose. “I got you now, sweetheart.”
She hugs me close, molded to my side, as we walk over the dead body and leave the room. “I won’t let that happen again. I promise you,” I murmur into her ear. I see my men nod and walk around us. They’ve got us covered so I can just hold her and give her the comfort she needs.
She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “You'd better not.” She gives me a small laugh, but it’s accompanied with tears.
“I promise you, baby. No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” She buries her head in my chest and wipes her face on my shirt before looking back up at me. I wait until her eyes are firmly on me. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Vince.” She reaches up to kiss me again as we exit the warehouse and I have to stop to wrap my arms around her and kiss her back. “I love you so fucking much.”
Epilogue
Elle
“You look beautiful.” Vince’s mom mouths at me as I walk down the aisle of the church. I smile at her and mouth back a thank you. The church is gorgeous. It's more beautiful than anything I’ve ever imagined. St. Rose. The family church. The large stained glass windows and intricate frescoes on the walls give it an old-world feel. It’s a traditional wedding, during Sunday mass. So I don’t know everyone, but all eyes are on me.
My hands tremble and I hold the bouquet tighter. I love my wedding dress. It has a sweetheart neckline, with an A-line silhouette and it's covered in expensive lace. The gown hugs my baby bump and my curves before flaring out at the top of my thighs. My eyes focus straight ahead. Vince is waiting for me. His hair is styled neatly and he’s clean-shaven. His suit is perfectly fitted to his muscular form, and emphasizes his broad shoulders. His eyes travel down my body with lust, and I find myself walking faster. I have to really work to slow my walking to match the pace of the bridal chorus.
Everyone’s here. Even my mother came. She’s in the back, and I’m not sure if she’ll speak to me, but it’s a start.
I take a step up the stairs and feel my heart swell with happiness. It overrides my nerves and I take another, to stand with him in the center of the room in front of everyone.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Vince says, as I turn and pass the bouquet to Clara. I feel my cheeks heat with a blush. Behind Clara, Becca’s holding her little girl. I insisted she still stand up here as my bridesmaid, even if Cloe was being a little Velcro baby. My heart swells and tears prick at my eyes.
I can’t wait for the vows, or any of the readings. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion.
“I love you, Vince.” I lean forward and give him a quick peck on the lips.
Vince smirks at my impatience. His hand wraps around the back of my head and the other around my waist and he pulls me in for a kiss. A real fucking kiss. My lips mold to his and my body bows under his touch. The cheers and catcalls from the members of the church make me wanna pull away, but I know better.
“Alright, alright, you two,” the priest says, and Vince finally loosens his grip on me. I know my cheeks are bright red and I’m slightly embarrassed, but Vince takes my chin between his thumb and his forefinger and makes me look him in the eyes. I’m lost in his look of pure devotion.
“I love you too, Elle,” he whispers, and plants another kiss on my lips before taking my hand in his. My heart beats louder in my chest. There’s not a doubt in my mind. I know he loves me. And I love him.
The End.
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Rough Touch
Synopsis
From USA Today bestselling author Willow Winters comes a HOT mafia, standalone romance.
I thought I was safe.
I still remember smoothing my dress and putting on my earrings the day it all happened.
The day my family was murdered and I was taken.
The chain around my neck won’t ever leave me, but I won’t stop fighting.
I’ll have my revenge at any cost so long as I can remember t
he girl I used to be.
But I didn’t expect Kane. A man of power and fear, yet he shows me kindness.
Kindness I desperately need.
Kindness that will break me.
Prologue
Ava
Kane
I was the mafia princess. I thought I was safe.
I was the muscle and moneymaker. I was supposed to be untouchable.
I still remember smoothing my dress and putting on my earrings the day it all happened.
I remember wiping the blood off my face and feeling the heat of the fire the night it all went down.
I pull at the chain around my neck and hate what I’ve become.
I wrap my knuckles with tape before laying hit after hit, hating what I have to do.
They’re all dead. Now I have no one.
They’re all dead. Now I have no one.
I feel so alone, but I won’t stop fighting.
I feel so alone, but I won’t stop fighting.
They want me to be scared of them, so I’ll play the part. I can use that to my advantage.
They’re terrified of me, and that’s good. I’m going to need that fear to survive this.
The plane descends and lands with a loud thump that shakes the cargo hold, but I keep the sick feelings at bay. I hope that bastard’s here.
I hear the plane land and I know it’s almost time. I hope it’s him this time and not just another shipment.
He’s the reason I’m shackled and beaten. Used and degraded. I won’t stop fighting to breathe until I have my revenge.
He’s my chance at redemption and a new life. I’m not gonna lay down and die; I’m making a name for myself.
They keep saying I’m a good girl.
They think I’m a bad boy.
None of them really know who I am.
None of them really know who I am.
They can keep calling me a good girl though, right up until the moment I slit their throats.
Kane
My fist slams against the bag. I see my uncle’s face. I throw a right hook. Next, a left jab. Over and over I slam my fists into the leather until my muscles scream with pain. And then I push myself harder. I feel my knuckles crack under the weight of my hits. The sound of my fists making contact with the heavy bag doesn’t do anything to relieve this tension, though. I want to hear the crunch of his jaw. Fucking rat. That coward destroyed my family, and ruined my life. And I can’t do shit about it. I can’t turn back time.
I hit the bag again and again, trying to get this weight that’s crushing my chest to leave me. I hear my father’s voice, the screech of the tires. The gunshots. I grab the bag and slow my racing heart. A deep breath fills my lungs, but it only serves to fuel my anger further. They hunted us all down because of my fucking coward uncle. And I can’t do shit to change any of that.
“Kane!” Marco shouts; his voice echoes in the empty room. I hear the door swing shut and his boots smack against the concrete floor of the warehouse. I wipe the sweat off my face.
I needed to get out some aggression, but I have to be presentable for the meet, so I grab the towel on the pile of boxes next to me and wipe down quickly. I hear Marco walk toward me as I pick up my shirt and slip it on. I button it up, concentrating on keeping my anger at bay. Aggression would not be good right now. Not when I’m on my own, completely outnumbered, and about to meet the new boss of the Marzano Cartel.
Abram Petrov. He's become notorious for taking over the industry quickly, and with lethal force. Recently he's acquired the lead cartel in Mexico as well as heavy hitters in France and Russia, where he’s from. He’s a new force that’s not scared to play dirty, and now he’s on my doorstep.
“I’m ready!” I yell over my shoulder, and stalk toward him. Time to meet the new famila, or Bratva as the Russian fucks keep calling it. Or whatever the fuck he calls his crew. I have to try to earn a position with a mob that’s willing to take in the nephew of a rat. I swallow thickly. I’ve been waiting for a few weeks for this meet-up, staying in the warehouse and lying low with a target on my back. This place used to be a safe house for my family. Now it’s my bargaining chip to get the attention of Petrov.
His crew came and set up yesterday, but I kept my distance. They know it’s my place and they came to do business here, which is great. But I’m not a part of their crew. I’d rather give them the space they want and a warm welcome without getting involved in their shit. I can’t fuck this up.
“This is gonna be great. I know it will.” Marco grins at me and slaps his hand on my back. His arm has to reach up to hit me square on my shoulders. I’m six-foot-five and all muscle. Next to Marco I look like a fucking beast. I was the top earner in the famila for a reason. I’m a terrifying fucker to go up against. People tend to pay up rather than piss me off. But even with all the money I was bringing in, they tried to have me killed. They tried, and they failed.
“Boss’s already impressed with everything you did to those pussies.” My gut twists and my chest tightens with pain. They should’ve known better than to come for me. That shit with my uncle had nothing to do with me. Or my father. And they sure as fuck knew my sister and my mother didn’t have shit to do with any of it. They fucking came for us all the same, though. They should’ve made sure we were all dead. Those fuckers left me alive. And they paid the price. Even if they were the only people I had in this world.
I grin at him and huff a laugh. I need the boss to like me. I need somewhere to go, someone to be. I grew up in this life. And everyone I knew turned their backs on me. If I hadn’t been so fucked up, I could’ve started the business myself. I have contacts. A few I still trust. But I made this call too soon. Now I need to go through with it.
I breathe in deep and walk through the hall to the hangar. The meeting’s going down here. I’m ready for this. It’s not an ambush, but they could easily kill me. It’s just me against all of them. They’re not here for that. No one’s touching me after what I did. Revenge will make a man crazy. Unstoppable. Untouchable. But it’s also left me alone. I’m ready to move on and get back to work.
There are a few small planes in the relatively empty hangar. Stacks of cocaine bricks wrapped in plastic are sitting on a folding table. It's not what I’m used to. I’m more of a blackmail-the-politician type. But shipping and selling will have to do in the beginning, I suppose. Onward and upward or some shit like that. I’ll prove my worth.
Four men in black and grey suits surround the table, watching the two workers weigh and bag the product. As they hear our footsteps, they turn to face us. The boss, Abram, walks toward me. His underboss walks next to him, but a step or two behind. The other two men with them are obviously soldiers, judging from their broad shoulders. One has a scar across his face. It looks like it came from a slash that should’ve taken his eye out. The other has a tattoo scrolling up his neck. Both of the soldiers read as highly dangerous, nothing like Abram himself. Their dark eyes stare back at me as they put their arms behind their backs and square their shoulders, waiting for orders. Marco walks behind them and back to the table. He’s just a soldier. And he’s completely happy with that. He’s a dumb fucker.
“Kane,” Abram greets, as he extends his hand to me. He's a tall, slender man, with black hair that's slicked back with oil. I shake his hand firmly and stare into his eyes; they’re so dark, they appear black as well.
Abram’s a deadly boss. I heard about what he did to the cartel in Mazatlan. I’m not all that happy seeing how he cut ties purely for business reasons. And by cut ties, I mean demolished their businesses, stole everything they had, and murdered them. To call him ruthless would be putting it lightly, but beggars can’t be choosers. I know there’s a target on my back. I need to find a place and lie low. And this is the only option I have right now. So I’m making a deal with the devil.
“Abram. Or should I call you Boss?” I ask, with the hint of a grin on my face.
He smiles back broadly. “Boss, I think.” Hearing that all
ows me to breathe, but I don’t show my relief. He turns and wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the group of men. It’s an awkward hold on me, because I’m so much taller than him, but I allow it. “Thank you again, for making this transition easier on us. I appreciate the gesture.”
“No problem.” I nod my head and take a look at the product lined up on the table. That’s a lot of coke. No doubt using my hangar was a decent option for them. And a sign of trust that they accepted my offer.
“I’d like you to meet Vadik, my second-in-command,” Abram says. I reach out my hand to the underboss and he’s quick to take it with a smile. Another good sign. This man is older. Vadik looks to be somewhere around my father’s age, whereas Abram can’t be any older than 35. Abram’s face has the hint of wrinkles around his eyes. This man, however, has earned his age. Grey hair that’s slicked back the same way as Abram's and deep-set wrinkles on his face. His pale blue eyes are like ice. So fucking cold. This man reads as deadly. Abram could easily fool you into thinking he's less dangerous than he is, lulling you into a false sense of security. Based on everything I've heard about him, he's succeeded in doing that multiple times in the past with former rivals. But this man, Vadik, looks like a killer.
“Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. He puts his other hand on top of mine.
“It is indeed, Kane. I’ve been anxious to meet the man who took down the entire Armeno family in one night.” He smiles wickedly as he says, “You’ve made quite an impression.”
Those Boys Are Trouble: Valetti Crime Family Box Set Page 33
