by J. L. Beck
Looking over my shoulder and out the back window, I see Mack and Eli getting into the car behind us.
“This is fucking crazy.” The gun is still in my hand since I’m afraid to let go of it. It is the one thing that is keeping me sane and alive. I’m barely able to sit still as I grip the gun firmly in my hand. While my other is keeping pressure on the gunshot wound.
My gaze lands back on Enzo. Blood seeps into his white shirt, his blood-red tie is ripped and tattered just like my dress. My eyes glide down to my feet. The shoes are long gone from the rush to jump the wall. His face, though covered in a sheen of sweat and dirt, still looks as dashing as the first time I met him. I hate him for everything that he has done, for the person he is, but I also like him. I knew what he was doing as I felt his fingers slipping from my hand. He was going to save me, and even though when he wakes up, he won’t ever admit it, I know it in my heart.
“What happened back there?” Jared asks me, turning down the radio. The men will be after us. I’m surprised we even made it out of there. I want to tell Jared, but the truth is, I don’t really know what they were talking about, who the pig is, or what is going on. I know that Luccio was a bad man, and the FBI killed Enzo’s mother and came for him. I don’t know what I have to do with it, though.
“I don’t really know. There was some talk about someone being a pig, and Luccio accused me of being one. He told Enzo the FBI is onto him and that they will take him out if he isn’t careful. He also told us who killed Enzo’s mother.” I’m rambling because I’m scared and nervous.
Will I ever be safe again? Will I be able to go back to school? Back to my dad?
“Whoa, slow down…” Jared says, in an attempt to soothe me. His eyes shine brightly at me through the rearview mirror, and after everything that happened, I wonder if he can be trusted. Can anyone who Enzo works with be trusted? What kind of sick and twisted game is this? If Luccio was supposed to be family to Enzo and betrayed him like that, what could anyone else do?
I can save Enzo and us from all these people. I eye the gun, wondering what I should do next. Enzo must’ve trusted Jared at least a little bit if he called him over anyone else.
“Put the gun down, Amara. I know that look. You’re scared, and that’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you guys. Enzo is my friend. I’m his driver. I’m taking you to the safe house.” He is speaking calmly, and I stare at him and then look down at Enzo. He is still breathing, his chest moving up and down, and I know that if I want to save his life, I need to have Jared get us where we need to be.
“Fine,” I reply after hesitating for a moment. I put the gun down on my lap, making sure I can grab it if need be.
“Now, what happened?”
“They wanted to kill him,” I huff out, my head landing on the headrest. My eyes and skin hurt so badly. My head is pounding from all the noise, and my body aches as if I have run up a hill fighting a bear.
“Kill him? Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.
I blow out a breath and take a deep one in, trying to calm myself. My stomach is still in knots, and no matter how many times I look over at Enzo, I can’t help but wonder if he is going to make it. I know it’s only a shoulder wound, but people have died from less serious injuries. Getting shot isn’t to be fucked with.
“They said he was dangerous, out of control. They think I’m working with the FBI or something.” I sound just as Luccio did, and I understand the look on Jared’s face as he absorbs what I have said. I had that same look on my face when Luccio told me.
I watch cautiously as his hands grip the steering wheel harder. “He’s dangerous, Amara. I know I don’t have to tell you that. I know you’ve seen him at his worst. However, he’s not out of control. He’s doing what he is meant to do in life. Luccio wanted him dead for an entirely different reason, I’m sure.”
I hear his words, but they mean nothing to me. The pure fact that Luccio wanted Enzo dead is enough for me to gather that I ended up in the middle of something that is sure to kill all of us. Hell, Enzo is already on the verge of death. Even I am. Being shot at isn’t something I plan on doing daily.
“It doesn’t matter because now Luccio is dead, and all of his men are going to come for us. Plus, there’s some fucking FBI agent in on all of this.” My voice is growing louder and louder. I am scared and panicking. Where do we go from here?
“Just calm down. When Enzo wakes up, I’ll get the full story. You’re in shock, so just breathe and try to calm down.” My eyes grow wide. Is he fucking insane? Somewhere in my mind, I know I need to listen to him, but I just shot a gun. I just killed someone. I fucking killed someone!
“I killed someone!” I cry out as if I am admitting my deepest sin. The gun slips from my lap and to the ground. I have seen death, my mother had died at the hands of cancer, but I have never killed someone. I feel the worst kind of hate eating away at who I am.
“You had to. It was you or them.” Jared doesn’t sound remorseful at all.
“That’s not me, though. I wouldn’t ever kill someone. I don’t even know who I am anymore…” The last part isn’t meant to come out of my mouth, but I can’t believe what I’ve done. I knew the moment I pulled the trigger, someone would die.
“It was either you or him. I can promise you, he wouldn’t have felt anything if he shot and killed you. He deserved it.” My body trembles. Shouldn’t I be crying? Am I really in shock?
“That doesn’t matter. I killed someone.” The words are tumbling out of my mouth.
“You had to.” The way he says it makes it seem final. His stare is gentle, and I know he understands what I am going through. When I said I would pay my father’s debt, I didn’t think I would actually be doing this.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my eyes going back to Enzo. He is still breathing, but his body isn’t moving. When I touch his cheek, it’s hot to the touch. I keep my hand against his fevered skin to remind myself that he’s still here with me. Hot skin is better than cold.
“The safe house is up in the mountains. It’s about an hour and a half drive. We need to get the code for the security system from Enzo, and we can get in the house.” His eyes go from me to the road to the rearview mirror to check what I’m doing. I wonder if he thinks I am going to shoot myself or something. I didn’t survive that just to end my own life.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, unable to stop myself. A smile pulls at his lips, and I wonder what he thinks is so funny. My body is still shaking, my hands sweating, my breaths still harsh. I don’t find any of this fucking funny. Plus, Enzo is bleeding out next to me even as I press against the wound. Nervousness fills my belly.
“Enzo clearly has his hands full with you. You don’t seem like his type, by the way,” he says. I know I’m not Enzo’s type. He likes submissive girls who obey, know when to keep their mouth shut and don’t talk back.
“By type, you mean, he doesn’t usually go for the women that do whatever the fuck they want?” I ask, eyebrows raised. He laughs gruffly, and the tension inside the SUV eases. I’m still scared shitless, but my blood stops pounding in my ears.
“By type, I mean he generally doesn’t have a woman I can judge as his type. He doesn’t usually keep anyone longer than a night.”
“Fantastic. I’m going to end up going to jail with a mob boss who is also a manwhore, which I already kind of assumed.” Leaning over, I run a hand through my hair. My curls are everywhere, I’m sure, and I don’t even want to catch a glimpse of my face.
Laughing softly, he says, “Just try and relax. Once we get where we need to be, I’ll let you know.” I nod and return to my thoughts. All sound is non-existent in the SUV except for Enzo’s soft breathing and a small amount of radio noise.
I watch out the window, afraid that if I close my eyes, I will relive this horrid again. I killed someone. I fucking ripped him from his family and friends without even knowing him. I know nothing about him, and yet I put a bullet in his head, ending his life.
&
nbsp; Enzo has been a douche nugget of all kinds of sorts, but I don’t want him to fucking die.
“Get some cloth and water,” Jared orders from the bedroom. I’m in the kitchen pacing like a maniac. He is just going to take the bullet out, clean it like a goddamn scraped knee, and stitch it up. Something about that doesn’t sit well with me.
Filling a small bucket with water, I bring it to him. Enzo is just starting to come around since being shot. The only words having been said from him were the ones where he told us the code to get into the house.
“Get this fucking bullet out,” he growls at Jared. He is thrashing back and forth on the bed as Jared uses a pair of tweezers to dig around in his shoulder. A hiss leaves his lips, and his eyes seek mine out.
“Whiskey…” Jared asks, pulling me from Enzo.
“Whiskey?” He didn’t ask for whiskey, did he?
“Yeah, I need it to clean the wound.” I get up, running to the kitchen again. I have no idea where the whiskey is kept here, and if it has anything to do with Enzo, it’s probably all gone.
I search the many cabinets that line the kitchen walls, only finding plates, food, and silverware. I pull on a small drawer only to discover it’s filled with guns. Then it clicks. Maybe he has some at the small bar I noticed earlier in the dining room. Closing the drawer, I run to the dining room, my feet slipping on the wood floors. My eyes search the small bar shelf from a distance. BINGO. My eyes land on the bottle of bourbon. Enzo’s favorite, I assume since it’s the only one I’ve ever seen him drink. He will hate to see this go to waste.
Hurrying back to the room, I hand the bottle to Jared. “Took you long enough…” Enzo almost screams at me. His eyes are soft, and I understand his words aren’t meant to be mean. He’s in pain.
“This is going to hurt…” Jared mumbled and then pours a liberal amount into the wound, his hands, and tweezers. Enzo lets out a loud scream, and a lot of curse words follow. Sweat forms on his brow, and he clenches his teeth. I watch as Jared digs around in his shoulder some more.
Enzo doesn’t move or make any more sounds. His face is full of agony, and I feel bad for him. Yes, I feel bad for him. I have watched this man shoot and kill people. I have felt his hands around my throat, and yet looking at him now, I feel nothing but pain for him. I know deep inside, my reaction stems from more than just a sense of compassion.
Three minutes later, Jared pulls away from Enzo, smiling. “Got it. Strong fucking little slugger,” he says, dropping the bullet into a pan I brought him.
“Thank fucking God. I was about to get my gun out and shoot myself in the other shoulder,” Enzo mocks. I smile at him as he attempts to sit up.
“No way. Don’t move the fuck around. I need to get you sewed up. You’re lucky that it didn’t hit anything important,” Jared orders, moving back over to Enzo. I get up from the bed, not sure what I should be doing. I’m stuck here as much as Enzo is. Not that the safe house is bad. We have internet access, TV, and it is a cozy little cabin. Except, knowing why we are here, makes it seem like a jail cell all over again.
“Come hold him down!” Jared yells to me. I move to the side of the bed slowly. I’m not sure where Enzo and I stand after everything. I saved his life, and he saved mine. I’m sure the debt has been paid now.
Sitting down on the soft comforter, I ask Jared, “Where do you need me?”
“Just hold his arm on that side. Enzo, quit fucking moving. This isn’t your first rodeo.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the first fucking rodeo that hurt this bad.”
My mouth gapes open. I should have known he’d been shot more than once. Still, it seems weird to think about that. Placing my arms against his skin, I hold him securely.
“How many times have you been shot?” I ask, my face mere millimeters from his. His brown eyes warm as they pass over my face and then down to my lips. I know what he’s thinking. He wants to kiss me, devour me until there is nothing left of me. I know it because that’s how I am feeling.
“Yeah. I was shot in the leg when I was seventeen. Drug deal gone wrong. Then another time when I was twenty-one.” The way he refers to it makes it seem so nonchalant.
“Yeah, and I saved his ass then too…” Jared cuts in, sliding the needle and thread through his skin.
“You didn’t save me, fucker. You just patched me up,” Enzo growls as if someone else saving him doesn’t sit well with him. If that is the case, things between him and I aren’t going to go well. I won’t rub it in his face that I saved his life, but if he tells me he can’t let me go, I will remind him that he is standing here because of me. That is if I can even walk away from him.
“Shut up and stop moving,” Jared shoots back, and Enzo’s face turns to mine once again. I get the feeling that Jared and Enzo go way back. Not that Jared told me a lot about himself on the ride here. Aside from the small questions he had asked me, I know nothing about him.
“Are you okay?” Enzo asks, his voice is as smooth as butter. His hand that I am pressing against his abdomen strokes across my skin. My insides turn to mush, and though I am a mess… I still want him. He has that effect on people.
“Yeah, I’m fine…” I barely get out without a moan. I don’t want to make Jared uncomfortable, and I don’t really think that Enzo will be up for sex, so I just keep it to myself.
“Are you sure?” He is pushing his physical pain to the back burner. Why is he so concerned with me? Worry marks form on his face as he frowns at me. He thinks I am lying. I really am okay. I am shaken up a bit, and I will forever feel guilty for ripping someone from their family, but I will move on. I have to.
“I’m…. I’m okay. Really. I’m not the one shot,” I answer, smiling at him. This is something I haven’t ever seen in him. I have never seen him be gentle or kind. He is always dark and crude. It’s as if a switch flipped within him.
“Where are Mack and Eli?” Enzo asks.
“Securing the perimeter and picking up some supplies. They should be back soon. You’re good to go, boss. But no rowdiness.” He picks up the buckets and clothes and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Is it that obvious that we need a moment alone?
Silence passes between us as he stares at me. I can’t read him. I used to be able to tell what he was thinking or at least what kind of mood he was in.
“You saved my life,” he says softly, pulling me down toward his lips.
“Yeah, I did. Does that mean the debt is paid?” My own feelings are starting to come forward. If he tells me I can leave, will I? Will I ever be safe without him, or am I as damned as much as he is?
Anger flutters just under the surface. His mocha-colored eyes turn dark as his hand reaches up into the back of my hair, holding it tightly, holding me securely.
The sting of pain as my hair pulls makes me smile. “That debt is never going to be settled, piccolo.”
The smile is wiped from my face as dread settles deep into my bones. It has to be settled. We have to be even now. I saved his life!
“Why?” I cry out as he pulls me closer to his mouth. His hot breath is on my face, and he smells like bourbon and man. Sweat still lines his brow, and blood seeps through the cloth on his shoulder.
“Because now it is I who is indebted to you…” It dawns on me that he hasn’t said that I still owe him. I’m just about to pull away when his lips crash against mine. The kiss is full of passion, hate, and anger. He holds me in place as I softly paw at his chest. His teeth nip at me in a way that has me parting my own lips.
“You were impossibly fucking hot when you shot that gun,” he groans against my lips. I smile, not sure what all this means. Does this mean that he owes me? That I can leave…
“I’m glad you think it’s hot, but I feel really terrible about killing that man. Even if he was going to kill us.” Sadness forms on my face and can be heard in my voice. I don’t want to hide the fact that it bothers me that I killed someone. Enzo knows how I feel about death, about taking someone else’s life. It
isn’t fair.
“It was you or him. I’m certain he wouldn’t have given a shit about you if you’d died,” Enzo says as if he is angry that I feel bad.
“That’s what Jared said, too. I know he wouldn’t have felt bad, and I know that if I didn’t kill him, you would have died, but it doesn’t make what I did any easier.” Tears prick behind my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I haven’t cried through this whole thing, so I don’t know why I feel the need to do so now.
“Sometimes, you have to pull the trigger, piccolo. Sometimes it’s not about you and them as people. Instead, it’s about survival. You kill or be killed, love. That’s how this works.” His voice is so soft it feels as though he is wrapping me in a blanket of kindness. I feel myself leaning down to lie on him, my head on his chest. We have never done such a thing, performed such an intimate act.
Kill or be killed. That’s his motto.
“If you’re indebted to me, what does that mean? You owe me?” I ask quietly as I place a soft kiss against his chest. His muscles constrict, and I run a finger over the dips.
“It means I owe you your freedom. You’re free to go whenever you want. Your father’s debt has been paid in full.” The way he says it makes it seem as though he doesn’t want it to be true.
“What if I don’t want my freedom?”
“Then you’ll be mine,” he growls, moving me so he can see my face. His dark eyes and hair have my pussy clenching with all kinds of wicked wants.
“Yes,” I say, bending down to place my lips on him. “But there are some things that need to change. I want to go back to school, and I want a phone and laptop. I want my dad in my life, and I want you to treat me in front of people the same way you treat me when we are alone–”
“That’s a lot of wants.” Enzo grins.
“Well, take it or leave it. That’s the package deal you’ll have to take if you want me to be yours.”
“I’ll take it. I’ll take the package deal.”
