Bang Bang

by Rachel Van Dyken

“I highly doubt anything stuffed or human would complain if they were sharing your bed.” I arched my eyebrows and unlocked the car, opening her door for her.

  “You did.” She tilted her head. “Every night.”

  “Exaggeration.”

  “Don’t think so.”

  I snorted and shut the door then made my way to the driver’s side. Once I started the car I tugged her braid and whispered, “Well, here’s a little secret… sometimes guys mean the opposite of what they say. Spending the night with you was my heaven, and it was also my hell.”

  Her cheeks lit up with red. “Your hell?”

  “You were underage,” I explained pulling out of the parking lot. “It was my heaven because you were by my side, because I knew you were okay, because even though I knew I couldn’t or shouldn’t kiss you, that didn’t mean I couldn’t hold you, it didn’t mean I couldn’t feel your skin against my fingertips. Yeah, my heaven and hell, but worth the hell to get to heaven.”

  Her eyes were wide; she opened her mouth then shut it. After a few minutes of silence she said, “I’m not seventeen anymore.”

  “I’m well aware of your age,” I said hoarsely. “Just don’t remind me or I’m going to take advantage of that fact.”

  “And if I want you to?”

  I groaned aloud. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, an hour ago you were slapping me and yelling in my face.”

  “Right.” She licked her lips. “Right, sorry I don’t know why I said that.”

  Why the hell did it feel like I just rejected her when all I was doing was protecting her? Damn Campisi. I was not the man for the job. The right man would do his job without wearing his heart on his sleeve; he’d do his duty, report home, and wash his hands of it.

  That wasn’t going to happen with me.

  She was a part of me again.

  And I wasn’t letting her go.

  I just needed to give her time to realize I wasn’t abandoning her — and I couldn’t do that by pressuring her before she was ready, even if she thought she was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amy

  TEARS THREATENED — AGAIN. I was so embarrassed that I’d been ready to cry because of what Axton had said.

  What was wrong with me?

  He’d found me in a strip club — then kissed me, then rejected me all over again, and I was wondering why?

  The more I thought about it the more it made sense. Five years is a long time and if there was one thing I knew about his family or the real “family” he was a part of? They were loaded. Like Richie Rich — I own several jets and can rent out Disneyland a million times over and still end world hunger — loaded.

  No wonder he didn’t want my money.

  I barely had any pride left, but what I did have still demanded that I pay him back for whatever he spent on me.

  Lost in thought I didn’t even realize we’d pulled up to the hotel until he turned off the car. “You okay?”

  “Great.” I lied. I wasn’t great. I was going back to Chicago, the last place I wanted to be, and my best friend was suddenly alive, which should make me happy but all it did was make me feel so terribly rejected. My heart hurt so bad that it was hard to breathe. He had connections — he could have found me, did he and Sergio even talk?

  I had to know.

  It was killing me and I had a right to know. Even if I knew the truth already, I had to hear him say it.

  “Ax, before we go inside…” I met his gaze even though I wasn’t feeling very brave. He tilted his head to the side, his crystal blue eyes drinking me in, swallowing the darkness. “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive? Why didn’t you… call?”

  “Ames.” His face contorted with pain. “Let’s not talk about this now.”

  “I need to know.”

  “Damn it, Amy.” He jerked the keys from the ignition. “By the time I was out of the hospital, you were gone. Already in foster care. Sergio wouldn’t help me track you down… I finally found you and I couldn’t… I couldn’t just walk up to you and say ‘surprise!’ I freaking helped ruin your life, who does that? Who just ruins someone’s life and then asks for forgiveness? Or expects a damn hug? I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t put you through the pain again. I convinced myself you were fine because I was too afraid to believe otherwise.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s it?” he roared. “You’re just going to say okay? After I tell you I’m the worst type of human being on the planet?”

  I shrugged. “What do you want me to say? That it hurts? Because it does. That it sucks? It really does. That I understand? Well, I don’t, not even a little bit, because if the positions were reversed I’d spend every waking moment tracking you down and when I found you, regardless of what was in the past, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. That’s love… that’s friendship. What you did was self-serving, and I can’t love that person, the person you are now? I can’t love him — because the Axton I used to know was the most selfless person in existence.”

  “Ames.” His voice hitched, like he was on the verge of tears. “I wish you could see how sorry I am.”

  I smiled sadly. “I wish I could too.”

  A valet chose that awful moment to walk up to the door and knock. Cursing, Ax opened the door and gave him the keys. “Try not to scratch it.”

  I got out of the car and waited.

  The valet’s eyes bugged open. “Um, sir… you can’t… I mean…” He shook his head. “You can’t take prostitutes into the hotel.”

  Ax froze. His face going from someone I recognized to a complete stranger as he slowly turned around and grabbed the guy by the throat. With a heave he shoved him back towards the cement pillar and then punched him in the stomach. “She’s not a prostitute, you bastard.”

  “My mistake.” The guy doubled over, his breaths coming out in short gasps. “Apologies, I’m so sorry—”

  “Sorry?” Ax repeated then punched him in the stomach again. “Don’t apologize to me, asshole, apologize to her.”

  He lifted the guy up by his shirt and dragged him over to me.

  Shocked, I could only stare as the guy trembled in Ax’s grip. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for my error, please forgive me.” Ax squeezed the guy’s neck. “It was a horrible, mistake.” His voice came out hoarse as Ax continued putting pressure on his windpipe.

  Ax nodded to me.

  “It’s um, it’s fine.” I said in a cheerful voice so the guy didn’t report us to the cops or anything. It wasn’t like we were in Chicago; they would call the cops here. Then again maybe the Abandonatos were famous everywhere, it wasn’t like I really kept track of mafia dealings.

  “Remember,” Ax whispered to the guy. “No scratches.”

  The guy collapsed onto the pavement clutching his stomach as Ax ushered me inside the huge building. It was the most expensive hotel in town — I only knew because I’d tried to get a job bartending only to find out that they only hired people who’d gone to actual bartending school. Yeah, I didn’t fit that profile at all.

  “Wait here.” Ax motioned for me to sit on the couch while he went to the front desk and checked in.

  Minutes later he returned with one of the hotel employees. Ax wrapped a possessive arm around my shoulder and led me to a dark hallway where a single elevator was located.

  “Just let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Abandonato. The only guests who can use this key are ones staying on the penthouse level.” She handed him the key card, didn’t make eye contact with me at all, and walked off down the marble hallway.

  Too busy gawking, I didn’t even notice the elevator had opened until I almost tripped as Ax pulled me inside. In a whoosh it took off, within seconds opening up on the top floor where only two doors were located.

  Ax swiped the card again and opened one of the doors, stepping back so I could enter the room first.

  It was huge.

  Not just, oh wow, this is a big hotel room, but it was massive, like
its own apartment. It had a full-sized kitchen with granite countertops on the right, a long hallway that led to what I’m guessing were multiple bedrooms, and a beautiful view of the river.

  “Now—” Ax put the card on the table and reached for the phone— “We feed you.”

  My stomach grumbled on command.

  “Go take a bath.” He nodded towards the hallway. “I’ll order you some food, but you probably want to relax for a bit.”

  “Are you going to be barging in and waving your gun?” I asked. “Or beating any more hotel employees up?”

  “If you stay dressed like that?” He eyed me slowly up and down. “Yes. Now, go.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Axton

  THE SLAM OF THE bathroom door gave immediate relief. Muscles I wasn’t even aware I’d been flexing, relaxed as I slumped against the countertop. I was less than half a day in and I was already strung so tight that even alcohol wouldn’t bring me down.

  It was the outfit.

  And the braid.

  Maybe even the legs.

  Hell, who was I kidding, it was everything.

  I gripped my cell in my hand and punched in a quick text to Nixon.

  Me: Safe, at hotel, her room was destroyed.

  Nixon: Did you find it?

  Me: What is it?

  Nixon: You’ll know when you see it.

  Me: Vague, thanks.

  Nixon: Just get her to Chicago, that’s all you need to worry about.

  With a grimace I set the phone away from me and leaned against the counter, half tempted to bang my head against the granite just to see if it would knock any sense into my brain. Then again, it wasn’t my brain having issues but every other cell in my body. It was like I had lost complete control over my hands, my damn heartbeat, my breathing — everything was fixed on her and her alone. Which made doing my job without getting emotionally attached, damn near impossible.

  Clothes. I needed to get her some clothes, preferably a turtleneck and a pair of sweats, maybe a floppy hat, some sunglasses.

  Not that it would help, but one could always hope.

  “Aaaaagh!” A scream erupted from the bathroom. Gripping my gun I ran down the hallway and burst through the door, hand raised, ready to shoot anyone who dared touch her.

  Amy was lying in the giant bath tub, bubbles surrounding her body making it impossible for me to see her completely naked but giving me the suggestion that it was my loss I couldn’t.

  “What’s wrong?” I lowered the gun, my heart rate finally returning to normal. “I thought someone was attacking you.”

  Amy blushed, the pink color traveled down her neck to her chest, where my eyes stayed for longer than they should have.

  “A bad dream.” She shook her head, pieces of wet hair stuck to her chin and cheeks. I had to bite my lip to keep from telling her how beautiful she looked and how badly I wanted to kiss her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how tired I was, I laid down and closed my eyes and then—”

  With a sigh I glanced away — not because I was trying to be polite but because I was tilted on my own axis, a stranger in my own body, unable to actually look at her and speak at the same time. “Do you want me to stay in here?”

  “No!” She lurched forward as if to stop me from staying. Water lapped over the edges of the bathtub.

  Bubbles moved around her.

  And I stared like a man who’d never seen water before.

  One bubble remained near her chest.

  I stared it down. Willed it to move to the right, the left, or to disappear altogether, and when that didn’t work I argued with it in my head, alternating between telling it why it shouldn’t exist and why it should.

  Yes, my speech was quite extensive, well researched, well thought out. I would have probably won an award. And that award would have been for stupidity, but… there I was, still staring, still arguing, still telling myself it was okay to want what I’d given up so long ago — what I didn’t deserve.

  “Ax?” Amy squeaked. “Is something wrong?”

  My body responded in the most inappropriate way, coming alive at the sound of her voice as if she’d just offered to let me lick her while pushing the damn bubble away.

  “Uh, yeah,” I snapped. “Sorry, just, next time don’t scream unless something’s really wrong, I could have shot you.”

  Romance was clearly lost on me. Of all the things to say, I could have shot you probably killed the moment more than anything. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bubble suddenly spontaneously split into two just to shame me for being such an ass.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “‘K.” I backed away, forgetting that I’d closed the door behind me, and collided with the doorknob. Wincing, I turned, gave her a salute, because that’s what mafia hit men do when they’re in a bathroom with a naked girl, they salute her like a freaking boy scout, and then leave.

  Once the door shut behind me I almost turned the gun on myself.

  What the hell was I going to do the rest of the time we were together? And how was I going to keep my hands from touching her when the need to be near her was almost painful?

  “Ax,” she called from inside the bathroom.

  I cracked open the door. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks… for coming… even though it was a false alarm.”

  “I’ll always come,” I vowed. “I swear.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time I want you to run in my direction — screaming works.”

  A grin spread over my face and I winked. “Just make sure it’s my name and we won’t have any problems.”

  Just the thought of her yelling my name in pleasure had my body going hot all over, my clothes feeling to tight and my trigger-happy finger ready to drop the gun and run towards her.

  “Okay.”

  I shut the door again and cursed under my breath as I made my way towards the room. When I opened the door I wanted to curse all over again, maybe throw a tantrum, or perhaps a chair? Yeah throwing a chair would make it all better.

  One king-sized bed.

  I walked back down the hall.

  Two bathrooms.

  And one bedroom.

  The next room was an office.

  Perfect.

  The couch and I were going to get real close because no chance in hell could I lie inches from her with the knowledge of what it was like to hold her in my arms haunting my dreams.

  Shaking the thought from my head, I tried to focus on something else, anything else. Food. I needed to feed her. I quickly picked up the phone and dialed room service. Maybe I’d just eat away my lust—right that would work, eat until was so sick I couldn’t do anything about the way I felt about the girl in the bathtub driving me to an early grave.

  By the time Amy was finished bathing I was ready to shoot myself in the hand just so I could be distracted by a little blood and pain. The entire bathroom smelled like girl, and not cheap girl. Not the type of girl that makes you want to cough and wheeze because there’s so much perfume.

  No. It was soap. Hotel soap. But I swear her skin had chemically altered it, making it smell better than anything I’d ever smelled in my entire life. Pathetic that she was probably already out like a light and I was in the shower smelling hotel soup and trying not to let my arousal get so out of control that I had a permanent problem dressing myself or covering myself enough not to look like some horny teen who just found out what his junk was for.

  I turned the spout to the shower as far as I could, the hot water pounded my back, and the more I stayed underneath it, the worse my thoughts became.

  Thoughts of her in the bath.

  The damn bubble again. I swear if there was a Mr. Bubble container I’d probably be groping it.

  Nixon would be doing me a favor by shooting me when I got back to Chicago. I was hardly acting like a man, let alone a man that tortured people for information and dropped bodies into the lake when I wasn’t satisfie
d with what they said. Then again that had been years ago—did I really know that man anymore? Did I still want to be him? Apparently going into hiding made a person soft.

  Ridiculous.

  Cursing, I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, then padded down to the bedroom, hoping the lights were off, hoping she was sleeping and hoping that I could throw on a pair of boxers and just be done with the whole painful scenario.

  As luck would have it, all the lights were on. Amy was lying across the bed, her wet hair kissing the pillow, her thumbnail in her mouth and her lips pressed against her thumb in such a tender way I damn near flinched beneath my towel.

  “Sorry.” She yawned, stretching her arms above her head. I’d given her a pair of my boxers and a white t-shirt to sleep in. They looked good on her, too good, better than the sexed up outfit she’d had on before.

  Suppressing a groan I smiled at her as politely as I could, which probably meant it looked like I was ready to rip her in half with my teeth, and reached into my suitcase for a pair of boxers.

  “Which side?” Amy whispered behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I panicked with how to respond.

  Slowly, I turned. “I uh…”

  “Middle?” She winked. “Or left?”

  My smile grew as her eyes lit with playfulness. It was the Amy I remembered, the one who let me wipe her tears, the one I wanted to save for myself.

  And if I was being completely honest, the face I saw when I was with other women, when I kissed them, slept with them, did anything with them, I’d always wished it was her.

  And now she was asking me what side of the bed I wanted. Life could be so cruel. Dangling her in front of me like a damn prize I’d never be good enough to get, let alone deserve.

  “Middle,” I croaked. “I like the middle now.”

  “Rock, Paper, Scissors for it?” She tilted her head. I couldn’t refuse that pout, those eyes. Damn it, a freaking gunfight wouldn’t be able to distract me from that face. Since when did I decide to even share the bed?

  She smiled again.

  Right, since she started holding my sanity captive.