Saving Her: A Dark Mafia Duet

by Eden Summers

  No. There’s no room for chatter. I don’t want him weaving his manipulation into my brain again.

  “We’re not here to talk.” I shuffle closer, bridging the distance between us so there’s only a breath of space. I look up at him through my lashes and try my best to appear meek. “You heard Luther. I’m a gift.”

  I’m not a viper coiled to attack. I’m an object. A slave.

  Believe me, Satan.

  He stiffens, his jaw twitching a fraction. His eyes narrow, the intensity of his stare making my heart skip a beat.

  I wait for him to comply. To finally steal what’s right in front of him.

  “You’re not a fucking gift,” he snarls. “You’re not a fucking slave. All that is over.”

  A twinge of yearning plucks at my heartstrings before I quickly shut it down.

  “Whatever you say,” I keep my voice meek, testing to see if he prefers weak and vulnerable to my usual strong and combative as I avert my gaze like a true submissive. “I’m yours to command. Just tell me what you need.”

  A growl emanates from his chest, the low rumble inspiring goosebumps along my exposed arms.

  “What I need,” he grates, “is for you to understand that I don’t want to fucking touch you. Not now or in the future. I’m not Luther.”

  No, he’s not.

  I’m well aware he’s an entirely new monster. One with different intricacies and fetishes.

  “I understand.” I keep my head lowered, the tube burning hot against my belly. “You’re not like other men. You’re special.”

  He scoffs. “No, I’m not. I’m just a guy who wants to fucking help you.” He reaches into the back of his jeans and pulls out a cell. “Look.”

  He presses the screen a few times, then holds it up to me. My heart stops as he scrolls through images, picture upon picture of an innocent girl with a dazzling smile.

  “This is you, right?”

  It takes long seconds for me to shake my head, denying my past. The woman on the screen isn’t me. Not anymore. I look nothing like her. The light left my eyes long ago. The natural exuberance no longer exists. What took its place is the polished beauty paid for by a wealthy sex trafficker. The perfectly waxed skin. The regularly manicured nails and tinted hair. With all these services dished out by people who ignored my plight for freedom.

  “I know who you are,” he continues. “I know your brother. Decker and I work together. Believe me, I won’t do a fucking thing to hurt you. I’m here to help.”

  Decker.

  My surname slices through me with the force of a steal blade.

  Neither one of my brothers has ever taken our last name as a nickname. This man is making assumptions. Playing games.

  He found my past online and is using the information to continue his trickery.

  “You’re confused,” I whisper. “That’s not me. I have no brother.”

  I focus on letting all emotion slip through me. I don’t dwell on the aching memories. I shove everything from my mind, growing hollow… all except for the tiniest flicker of light beginning to creep its way through the darkness of my solitude.

  What if he does know one of my brothers? What if he knows the woman I used to be?

  I clear my throat, dislodging the instability trying to ooze its way back into me.

  I’m not that woman on the screen anymore.

  That life belonged to someone else.

  There’s no family waiting for me.

  No love to welcome me home.

  “What?” His brows pull tight, his confusion heavy. “Why are you denying it? This is obviously you.” He taps the cell screen, scrolling through more triggers, weaving more manipulation.

  I can’t let him continue.

  This has to stop.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re confused.” I step into him and reach for his arm to lower the phone from view. “And besides, who I am doesn’t matter when you’re here to teach me the ropes.”

  I grip the softness of his T-shirt and maneuver my hands beneath the material to place my palms on his stomach. His muscles tense at my touch.

  “Penny,” he warns. “Stop.”

  My pulse increases. My chest tightens.

  I wait for the usual revulsion to overwhelm me, but the nauseating protest doesn’t appear.

  For some reason, there’s no humiliation. No sickening disgust.

  Instead, there’s apprehension. Thick and cloying concern.

  He’s not acting the way I’ve come to expect from Luther and his men.

  He’s not devouring this opportunity like a stereotypical predator.

  “You don’t want me?” I ask, sounding offended. “Aren’t I as tempting as your little fox?”

  The reminder of the other woman is for my benefit. I need to remember he’s not innocent.

  “You’re a temptation, but not in the way you think.” His tone is gentle as he steps back. “You don’t need to do this.”

  He’s wrong.

  This is exactly what I need to do. I have to get closer. Distract him further. Add more confusion.

  “I’m a gift.” I grab his belt and begin to pull it from its confinement.

  “Jesus Christ. Stop.” He pushes at my wrists. “Just fucking stop.”

  He’s revolted by me and somehow this humiliation is far worse than what I’m used to.

  I’m not good enough for him.

  Or maybe I’m too used. Too abused. Too broken.

  He has the opportunity to take anything he wants and he hungers for nothing. There’s no perversion in his eyes. No deviance.

  I don’t know what to do. I need to be close. I can’t strike from this distance. “Luca, I…”

  Words fail me as my cheeks heat in shame.

  Has my life sunken so low I now need to beg for violation? Is that where this hellish existence has led to?

  “Please,” I plea, my humiliation plunging marrow-deep.

  “I don’t want to fuck you,” he snarls. “I want to help you.”

  “Then help me by letting me do my job. Let me make up for hitting you yesterday.”

  His nostrils flare. “As far as I’m concerned, I deserved your aggression. And I deserve far more for leaving you behind. But for now, you’re going to wait in here while I go back out there to keep an eye on Luther.”

  No. Jesus Christ, no.

  He can’t distract Tobias from his mission. He can’t stop me from succeeding, either.

  Luca stalks around me, heading toward the door as undiluted fear sweeps through me.

  “Wait.” I pluck the hidden device from my waistband and tuck it into my palm, keeping the weapon out of view as I scramble to catch up.

  He doesn’t pause. He gets to the door and reaches for the handle.

  This is it. I have to strike.

  I run, raising my hand high, then launch myself at him.

  5

  Luca

  Her frantic footsteps approach, her shadow quickly climbing across the door in front of me.

  I wait until she closes in, her rampant breathing reaching my ears, before I spin around and grab the arm violently charging toward me.

  She’s got a weapon—some sort of plastic device—but I ignore it for now as I sidestep, forcing her to follow with a jolt of my wrist. She turns with my harsh movements, her lithe body malleable to my direction when I shove her toward the door.

  A quick palm against the wood is all that saves her face from sudden impact as I twist her other arm behind her back.

  She doesn’t cry out. There’s no plea for help or scream for salvation.

  Instead, her breathing increases, her panic only shown in the short, sharp rasps for air.

  “What the fuck?” I snarl in her ear as I focus on the cylindrical tube she clutches in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell is this?”

  She doesn’t respond. There’s no struggle or fight, only tightly coiled hostility.

  “What the fuck?” I repeat, sliding my hold to her fingers to wrench
the device from her grip.

  “No,” she begs. “Don’t.”

  Her plea kills me, fucking strips me bare. I can’t believe what I’m doing to such a fragile, vulnerable woman. If only it wasn’t clear she was trying to take me down.

  “Then start talking.” I place my forearm against her back, loosely keeping her trapped as I inspect the weapon. “What is this?”

  “Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

  I snicker a scorn-filled laugh, attempting to gain answers through aggressive taunts so I don’t have to take alternate measures. “Nice try. But no dice. Tell me what’s going on before you get yourself in more trouble.”

  “Please.” Her voice cracks. “You said you want to help me. So help me. Give it back. Let me walk out of here and pretend this never happened.”

  “No way in hell, shorty.”

  For starters, I’m not letting her go anywhere near Luther. Not again. Not after I made the mistake of following Cole’s instruction to leave her kneeling on the kitchen floor yesterday. And I sure as shit won’t be handing over the instrument she felt inclined to stab at my neck.

  “Was this your idea or his?” I grip the crook of her arm and turn her to face me, her wide eyes blinking up at me in panic, her skin pale, those ruby lips parted. “Talk,” I growl.

  “Please don’t say anything.” Her delicate throat works over a heavy swallow. “It was my idea. Luther doesn’t know. He isn’t even aware I stole the syringe from him months ago. I just wanted to pay you back for taunting me yesterday.”

  “Pay me back how? What was the desired outcome? Is this lethal?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “It’s only a sedative. You would’ve fallen asleep instead of…” She glances away, her brows pinching.

  “Instead of raping you?”

  She nods, the movement gentle.

  She’s such a pretty little liar.

  We both know I wasn’t about to assault her. I was leaving the fucking room, for Christ’s sake.

  “Please, can I have it back?” She grates her teeth over her lower lip. “I promise I won’t use it.”

  I hold in a scoff as I remain against her, so close I can hear the gentle rasp of her breath.

  She’s a contradiction—her body soft yet ready to strike, her dark eyes gentle even though trepidation lingers beneath.

  “Please, Luca, it was a mistake.” She grasps the top of the device, her fragile hand clasped over mine. “He’ll kill me if he finds out. He’ll probably kill me when he realizes it’s missing from his stash. Let me take it so I can put it back.”

  I grin, the curve of my lips far from friendly. “But you’re a gift, remember? There’s no going back.”

  She should be fully aware there’s no returning to Luther unless something else is at play.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” I shove the device in my back pocket, not allowing her an inch of freedom. “Now, Penny.”

  A ragged exhale shudders from her lips. “You don’t understand.” She implores me with her frantic tone. “He’ll kill me.”

  “He’s not going to touch you.”

  “Yes, he will. And he’ll hurt my friends, too. My sisters. You can’t save me.”

  “Bullshit.” I get in her face, eye to eye, almost nose to nose, making sure she’s got a front row view to my sincerity. “I will save you.”

  There’s no doubt in my mind. She won’t leave this island a slave. Not while there’s still air in my lungs.

  Her gaze hardens, the deep brown turning punishingly dark. “And what about the little fox you’ve beaten? Will you save her, too?”

  She tilts her chin, showing defiance. Spite.

  She thinks she knows me, thinks she’s got me all figured out.

  “The beaten little fox isn’t a prisoner.” I back off, giving her animosity room to breathe. “She’s on our side. Your side.”

  “Is that why you beat her?”

  “I didn’t,” I grate. “Robert is responsible for hurting her, but he paid for that mistake with his life.”

  Her eyes flare.

  For a second, the slightest glimmer of hope brightens her features, increasing her beauty, before it’s quickly suffocated by suspicion.

  “I don’t believe you.” She shuffles out from between me and the door. “Robert isn’t dead.”

  “I think the bullet that took his life would disagree.”

  She blinks and blinks, her disbelief lingering. “She killed him?”

  “No, Luther did.”

  “I don’t understand.” She screws up her nose. “Luther would never—”

  “He had no choice. That asshole’s death is the only reason Cole is still civil with his father. It’s the price he had to pay for what his goon did to Anissa.”

  “Anissa?”

  Fucking hell, I don’t have the patience or the time for this. “The little fox,” I snap. “Nobody hurts one of ours and gets away with it.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth forms a pouty circle. “I…”

  “What?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know… I… I want to trust you. Really, I do.” She raises her focus to mine. “I’m just not sure how.”

  I don’t buy it. She’s still got tricks up her sleeve and I’m running out of time to figure them out.

  “What if I gave you back your weapon?” I hedge. “Would you trust me then?”

  Her tongue snakes out to quickly swipe her lower lip. It’s devious. “You’d do that?”

  I’m fucking tempted that’s for sure.

  It’s those eyes. The strength. She undoes me with her determination despite the shattered pieces of her psyche I itch to place back together.

  “Here.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the cylindrical tube. “Take it. It’s yours.”

  She inches back, her disbelief a sweet price to pay.

  “It’s okay.” I nudge the device closer to her. “Take it.”

  Hesitation reclaims her features as she eyes the weapon, her attention moving from my hand, to my wrist, and farther along my arm.

  Fucking subtle.

  She’s devising another plan to jab me. She practically has Plan B written on her forehead in neon.

  “Thanks.” She steps forward, cautious.

  Those delicate fingers brush my skin as she claims her prize.

  But the thing is, her touch is worth the upcoming battle. The graze of her fingertips is the softest friction. A hypnotic fucking spell. And when her attention returns to my face I can almost pretend she’s peering back at me in sincerity.

  Unfortunately, I know better in that regard, too.

  She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, trying to play the timid yet thankful role. To get closer. To obtain the perfect vantage point to strike from. It’s so fucking obvious it plays out in my head like a movie before she even makes a move.

  “Really,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

  I keep my jaw locked and pretend every one of my nerves isn’t hyper-sensitive as I tell her, “Don’t mention it.”

  My sincerity doesn’t stop her from tightening her grip on the weapon, though. And the resulting twitch of my cock isn’t my proudest moment.

  Some sick part of me wants her to fight. Adrenaline floods my system at the thought of another reason to grab her.

  “How do you plan on getting me out of here?” She creeps closer. “Just because Luther handed me over doesn’t mean he’ll allow my freedom. It’s too big a risk.”

  “Let me worry about that.” I remain still, on alert, patiently waiting.

  I should warn her not to follow through with her attack. If I was the good guy I’m pretending to be, I’d tell her to think twice. But she’s made it clear she has no desire to give me the truth. Not in words anyway. I’ll figure her out from her actions.

  “Okay.” She nestles closer. “I trust you.”

  The jut of her hand is quick. Lightning fast. I almost don’t catch it in time as she aims for my stomach.

  “Too slow.�
�� I snatch her wrist before impact, pull her forward, and sweep out my leg to knock her feet out from beneath her. I push her off-balance, delight in her gasp, and keep clinging to her arm as she falls.

  I guide her slightly, making sure she doesn’t hit the carpet too hard. But then I’m all over her, pinning her body beneath mine and her hands above her head.

  “I’m done playing games.” I smother her with my weight. “This was never about payback, or getting the syringe to Luther.”

  She turns rigid, yet again refusing to call for help. It’s clear she knows she’s on her own. With no one to save her.

  Well, she has me now. If only she’d fucking realize it.

  “This is the last time I tell you—” I get in her face, her snarled lips a whisper from mine. “—I’m here to fucking save you. You hear me? You’re free.”

  She bares her teeth. Glares. Thrashes.

  Again, it’s not my proudest fucking moment when my dick enjoys the extravaganza. I don’t want to appreciate the way she writhes beneath me. God knows, Decker will kill me if he ever finds out.

  “Stop fighting. Stop treating me like the fucking enemy.” I keep her pinned. “That woman you think is here against her will is working with us.” I shouldn’t be telling her this. It’s too dangerous. For her and me. “We’re taking down Luther’s operation. We won’t stop until we succeed.”

  She lessens her fight for freedom.

  “It’s true,” I continue. “The nightmare is over. You’re going home. But I need you to tell me if this attack was you. You have to be honest and let me know what I’m up against.”

  She stares at me, those penetrating eyes scouring my face as if she’s searching for the Holy Grail. She’s starting to believe me. Finally, I’m getting through to her.

  “Do you want me to call your brother? Is that it?” Slowly, I release her hands, keeping my attention on her weapon as I grab the cell from my jeans. “If I get him on the phone so you can speak to him, will you finally quit fighting?”

  Her face pales, all the blood draining from her cheeks in an instant. “No.” She shakes her head. “I told you, I don’t have a brother.”

  Why the fuck does she keep saying that?