He reaches in to assist whoever sits inside. A small hand grasps his, and I yell like a fucking pussy.
Thin delicate fingers.
Huge diamond ring.
Sheer purple sleeve.
Viviana.
Fuck yes. Slow and precarious but she climbs out of her own accord. Allowing him to guide her inside. She limps. And hides. Under an old-fashioned broad rimed hat pulled low to cover part of her face. Can’t let anyone see the bruises. Fury coils in my belly. Better not be fucking new injuries.
As soon as they step inside the narthex, I fly out of my stolen Taurus and sprint to the side door. Jimmied on day one of my surveillance to guarantee access when I was ready. After more than a fucking month without her, I’m beyond ready.
No one walks the corridor, and I hustle to the back of the church unimpeded. Ducking inside the sacristy, where right on time, at six fifty-five, the priest hangs a long green stole from his neck. The heavy cloth reaches almost to his knees. Wide blue eyes meet mine when he looks up from straightening the hems. A hint of confusion before his expression softens. The deep lines worrying his forehead relax below his wispy white hair. Lots of assumptions being made from my presence. All of them wrong.
“Confessions begin in five minutes. I’ll meet you at the confessional, right through there.” He points to the open door leading toward the altar. “Unless there’s something else you need?”
“I need to help Viviana Moretti.”
A severe bob of his Adam’s apple accompanies his huge swallow. Even a man of the cloth smart enough to be fearful of the family. “I…I’m not sure I understand.”
Of course he understands. No one fucks with the new crime boss. “She’s coming in for mass, and she needs to leave with me. Otherwise Dante will kill her.”
His head shakes. Brusque and incredulous. Disbelief curling down his thin pale lips. “Surely you don’t mean–“
There is absolutely zero time to hold this guy’s hand. “Yes, I do fucking mean it. I won’t let her die. Help me or don’t. It’s your choice.”
Elderly but not feeble, he steps back with shuffling feet. Retreating from my menacing tone and unspoken threat as I corner him in this small room. The pungent scent of freshly struck matches lingering in the stagnant air. As distinct as the tension stiffening his body. The fight or flight response looming in his strained muscles. I could easily defeat him, but I don’t want to hurt him. Cooperation would be so much better for both of us.
“I’ve known Viviana since she was a child. I care about her.”
“Me too.” I keep my tone agreeable and gesture to the chair. He seems to understand, shuffling over and slowly sliding down to the yellow cushion. Never taking his eyes off me. Only flinching when I tug the scarf from his neck and yank his hands behind the wide spindled back. Awkward but not painful. I quickly bind his bony wrists together. Ensuring his safety. No one can blame him for a kidnapping when he’s been assaulted himself. “I promise I won’t ever let anything happen to her.”
Doubt frowns his long face. Not that I can blame him. Difficult to believe the assertions of a man tying you up and admitting to plotting the abduction of a mobster’s widow.
I jet through the doorway he pointed to earlier and duck inside the confessional. Barely catching a glimpse of Viviana and her bodyguard striding together down the side aisle. The echo of her black heels tapping on the beige tile between pumps of the organ. My pulse quickens almost more than I can tolerate to be so close. To see her exquisite face and smell her delicate perfume. God, she’s so fucking beautiful.
Dropping down onto the dark wooden bench, I slide the sheer green curtain across the brass rod. Anxious for my princess. She barely closes the door behind her before she falls to her knees. Trembling fingers folded in a punishing grip as her head bows. Gorgeous cocoa eyes clenched shut. “Viviana–“
“Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
She doesn’t react to my whisper. Doesn’t wait for me to finish. Doesn’t pause to listen for the words the priest usually recites. Just launches in to admit some unnecessary guilt weighing on her.
“It’s been…too long since my last confession, and I’m struggling so much. I don’t mean to be weak in my faith. I know it’s wrong to question God’s plan but I miss him. I miss him so much, and I don’t understand why he was taken from me. I just…”
The break in her voice breaks me. But I’m too fucking selfish to stop her. I can’t find the words to prevent her needless confession. I have to hear what she deems so terrible. Desperate to know who she misses.
“I don’t know how I can go on without him.”
“Who?” Please fucking god let it be me. Let her be crying for me. Let her say my fucking name.
“Roan.”
Fucking god damn. I swear to god I can taste the saltiness of her pain from here. I can barely push out the word. “Princess?”
A gasp, razored and piercing as my own pulse, answers me. Fluttering pink tipped fingers smash flat against the railing, steadying herself as she looks up. Her gorgeous face fills my gaze. Marred only by the huge drops plunging from her enormous chocolate eyes and trailing down her pale cheeks.
“You’re alive.”
Pure joy explodes in her expression as she hurls herself forward. Scrambling through the narrow window to engulf me. Losing her lavender and black hat when she clambers to get to me. The first time I’ve ever held her like this, and I practically squeeze the breath from her tiny frame sobbing into the crook of my neck. My body on fucking fire to have her sheathed against me. Shrouding me with long silky hair tickling my arms. Engulfing me with the flowery innocence floating on her satin skin. Singeing me with her panting breaths from my ears to my tightening balls.
“I can’t believe you’re alive. They told me you were dead.” Shock swirls with relief in her repeated assertion. Wet lips brushing against the side of my throat. My shirt twisted in her small fist as if I’ll disappear again. “I thought you were dead.”
Fuck me if I don’t want to lift her little skirt, impale her on my hungry cock, and hold her tight while she admits everything I want to hear. Watch her glorious body, exposed and bare, ride me while she confesses her true feelings for me too. Fucking never let her go from my arms or my bed. But fuck if we don’t have fucking time for any of that. Yet.
I force myself to untangle her fierce grip around my around my torso and clutch her trembling shoulders. Her wild eyes search my face. Scanning me from forehead to chin. Proving to herself I’m real. “I swear I’ll explain everything to you. But, right now, you’re in danger. I’ve got to get you the fuck out of here.”
“What? I—I don’t understand.” Her head shakes furiously. Long hair brushing over her slender shoulders in her confusion. “Arturo’s…he’s gone. I’m safe now.” Insistent fingers splay across my chest. “Because of you.”
Because of me. An appreciative smile I fucking love lights up her sweet face. That I fucking hate having to steal from her plump lips. Convincing her is going to be so much harder than I thought. “You’re not safe with Dante.”
Scarlet races up her cheeks, and she squirms in my grasp. “Dante said he loves me and wants to marry me, after a respectable mourning time. Then I’ll be able to keep my father’s promise.”
Not a promise but a fucking debt. Her father’s fucking debt. God damn it. And god damn him. For saddling her with this fucked up burden. She actually seems fucking pleased to have the chance to redeem herself for the failure she thinks she is.
Forcing me to prove the truth she refuses to accept. As well as crush her more with a harsh reality her innocent mind can’t comprehend. Arturo punished her out of anger and impatience and frustration. Cruel because he could be. His brother…fuck. Dante’s a fucking sadist. Cruel because he wants to be. He’d fuck her up even worse and enjoy the torture so much more. “You don’t owe him. Your obligation ended with Arturo.”
“No it didn’t.” Falling back to her knees, she huddles i
nto herself with shame. “I didn’t give him a son.”
Thank fuck for that.
I may have lost her physically. I can’t risk her denying me mentally. I take a deep breath. Attempting to calm my voice. Straining to not frighten her. Well aware her guard stands right outside the door. If she tries to take off, there’ll be a massacre in this church that she’ll never forgive me for. “We don’t have time to argue. Please come with me, and I’ll tell you the entire story. You can decide for yourself. But you have to give me a chance to help you.”
“I’m sorry but I can’t leave.”
Seconds tick away. Sweat beads roll down my back despite the cool air blowing from the vents at our feet. I’ve got to convince her. She has to agree before someone knocks. Questioning what is taking so long. Inquiring why she hasn’t come out yet. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll bring you back. Straight to the mansion and Dante.” Which will never fucking happen but she doesn’t have to know that. “Just come with me.”
Nothing. Her gaze remains on her folded hands. Praying for something that I hope isn’t Dante. Coercion isn’t going to work. I’m going to have to force her.
“I’ve never lied to you before.” I use the same commanding tone from when I found her starved and told her we weren’t going to church. The same dominant tone her compliant nature responds to. “I’m not lying to you now. When you exit the confessional, tell your guard you need to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you at the end of that hallway.”
Not a question. An order. She flicks a quick gaze at me before nodding. Thank fucking god. A shady trick playing on her desire to please to get what I want. I’m an asshole, yet my actions aren’t selfish. Well not totally anyway. “Good girl.”
A slight jolt from her slender body welcoming my affirmation of her obedience. I know I’m a sick fucking bastard, but I really want to see how she responds to other orders I issue. Watch how she reacts to more lavish praise. I adjust my twitching dick while she rises and slips out the door. Waiting a dime beat before I flip the switch to dim the green light overhead and exit the chamber myself.
Sorry folks, no confessions today. Luckily, no one waits nearby. Which hopefully earns me a few extra minutes more than I planned before they begin to congregate and figure out through strained whispers and musings that Father Ken is missing. The choir accompanies my jog to the main corridor, soprano voices reminding visitors that all are welcome in this place. Except for guests like me. But I don’t give a damn. This is my last time here. Hers too.
I slip behind the massive white column closest to the restroom. Less than ten feet from the exit. Adrenaline pumps in my veins when I catch sight of her. Slow yet decisive steps to her goal. The dumb ass following behind her appears indifferent to her destination or purpose. Unaware of her worry. Oblivious to her squeezing the rhinestone button of her tiny bronze purse over and over. I know you’re terrified, angel. Just keep walking. Just take a few more steps. Just one foot in front of the other.
Never breaking her gaze, I fucking try to mentally will her to come to me. Be the lure she can’t resist. A haven to the chaos. A refuge from the turmoil.
So close I can see the delicate divot above her quivering lip. So close relief floods my taut muscles, and I finally offer her an encouraging smile. That I feel all the way to my fucking bones because I am one fucking happy bastard.
Until she stops.
Forcing the man behind her to side-step lest he barrel into her, she pulses with uncertainty. He tips his head down. Murmuring in her ear. Sliding his hand onto her lower back.
Touching what’s fucking mine.
God damn it. Rage seeps through my pounding chest. Forget any intention I had of curtailing my temper. Of refraining from violence in a holy place. Because nothing will keep me from her. Including her. I hold out my hand, but she shakes her head. Slow at first until he tugs her closer, and she mouths the words I refuse to accept.
“I can’t.”
She wrests herself out of his arm, wrapped tight around her waist, and bolts to the ladies room, slamming the door behind her.
Fuck this. I jet into the janitor closet next to the lavatory and jump to catch the lip of the huge dark blue tube snaking through the ceiling. Ripping the cylinder down from the cables, I slide through the duct and hang from my fingertips before dropping to the tile.
The sight behind me when I spin around breaks my normally cold heart. Plastered against the wall, she trembles. Terror blazes in her eyes. Jesus Christ. She thinks I’m going to attack her. That I’m going to hit the woman I love. I step flush to her, only our clothes between us, and crouch down to her eye level, cupping her small cheeks. “I will never hurt you.”
Her forehead brushes mine when she nods. I can’t be sure she genuinely believes me, or she’s too petrified to do anything but agree. Either way, we don’t have time to discuss her uncertainty now.
“Mrs. Moretti? Are you okay?”
Concern grinds in the deep voice from the hallway. He won’t wait much longer for an answer. I give her a gentle shake. “Come on Viviana. We’ve got to go.”
Her delicate body shudders under my punishing clench on her arms. Damn it, I’m too fucking rough with her. But I can’t control myself. Or restrain my determination. She is coming with me.
“I’m scared.”
A burning whisper warms my lips, aching to taste hers. “I know princess, but you don’t have to be.”
Despite my tight grasp, she jumps from the pounding on the blackened wood. “I’m coming in, Mrs. Moretti.”
“Please trust me.”
I don’t give her a chance to answer and twirl her around. Jerking her quaking back against my chest just as he busts through the door. Surprise jolts his body from her trapped with my bicep shoved to her throat. Well aware of Dante’s wrath if anything happens to his fiancée.
Her panicked cry kills me as I thrust my gun to her temple. I’ve got to get him all the way in here. She’d always blame herself if I hurt any other innocent parishioners. No collateral damage allowed this time.
Hard eyes meet mine while she struggles in my grip. “Get in the stall.”
Although he raises his hands up in agreeable compliance, a defiant smirk lifts his flushed cheeks. “No problem. Just relax man.”
“Roan, please–“
As much as I hate to stifle her, I coil my fingers over her mouth and hold her still. Fucking killing me to use brute force on her but I’m as gentle as I can be. “All the way motherfucker.”
“Okay, okay.”
With the nonchalance of a Sunday stroll he meanders between the metal partitions. I’ve been doing this for too damn long and sense his reaction before I see the movement. The widening of his shoulders, the calming intake of breath before his twists, sliding out his Glock. Too late asshole. He crashes backward against the concrete wall from the bullet in his heart and slams down onto the toilet. Water splashing onto his black pants from his hand jamming into the bowl. Germs no longer a worry for him.
She gasps behind my palm, and her knees falter from the violence. From the death. From disappointment in me. No opportunity to offer any explanations or request any absolution. We’ve got to jet.
I scoop her up and curl her against my chest. Too numb to resist, she allows me to control her. Pliable as I tug the wedding bands off her delicate finger and rip the thin sparkly necklace from her slender throat. Eliminating the possibility of trackers, I toss them to the floor and clutch her tight. With only one hand free, I fumble to click the lock behind us. Discouraging anyone from using the seemingly occupied facility. I stride down the corridor. Determined yet casual. Well as casual as a man can be carrying a limp woman in his arms.
Less than two hours before they’re missed from not returning home. Maybe one more hour before Dante’s men attempt to access the cameras in the area to track us down. Only to discover my tech friend, who’s been very well rewarded, has disabled or overridden all the recordings to keep that motherfucker from seeing me
, her, or the car.
Dante will soon figure out searching for her is fucking futile. I’ve planned out every meticulous detail of this rescue since I woke up in Nobbie’s van with a second chance I never expected and sure as hell don’t deserve. But she does. She deserves fucking everything, and I’m going to make damn sure she gets it. And Dante won’t ever be able to stop me. Or keep me from her.
Three and a half hours.
Hundreds of miles.
Two states.
And she hasn’t said one fucking word the entire time.
Hasn’t uttered a single god damn sound since I buckled her into the backseat and squealed out of the parking lot. Leaving her old life behind and now only five highway exits away from the lot where I stashed another car for a switch. I know she’s in shock, attempting to process what I’ve done. Struggling to make sense of me abducting her after I swore I wouldn’t harm her and then held a god damn gun to her head.
Which I fucking hate but can tolerate. As long as she eventually trusts that she’s safe with me. Otherwise, I’ll spend the rest of our journey —the rest of my fucking life if I have to —eliminating any doubt. “We’re going to stop and get lunch in a few minutes. Are you hungry?”
I’ve never seen a head lift so slowly. So gradual I have to glance back through the windshield twice before she finally breaks the blank stare fixated on the grey blanket she squeezes between her curled fingers. The thick fleece the perfect substitute for the little purses she normally kneads when she’s nervous. Unsure how the situation would play out, I prepared for all scenarios. Glad now that I grabbed the cover too.
“No, but thank you.”
Despite the circumstances, her manners never falter. She doesn’t seem to either. Never freaking out or melting down. Just remains quiet and deep in her mind, accepting what fate doles out to her. Consenting to the decisions made on her behalf. Probably the only way she’s survived the last few years.
192: A Dark Mafia Bodyguard Romance Page 5
