A Debt Owed-A Promise Made

by Destiny Blaine

  “Dante Mancini,” she heard a voice say. “Well this is better than we’d anticipated.”

  “I’m assuming your Marco Santiago’s other grandson. You look just like him.”

  “Going for insults today or should I take that as a compliment?”

  “I think he meant it as a compliment, boss,” someone said. Reassuring the mob bosses was apparently in the job description when someone aligned themselves with the mafia.

  “Absolutely,” Dante said. “I know you boys came all the way from Long Island just so I could dish out a few.” The room fell silent. “I saw what you did to my housekeeper. Murdering an old woman in cold blood, that’s not your grandfather’s style.”

  “My grandfather is out of the country. I’m Leon Santiago. I’m taking his place until—”

  “Until what kid?” Dante asked. “Until you shit your diapers and there’s no one left to send out for baby wipes?”

  “Kill him,” the guy said, apparently ready to make a statement at any cost, earn the respect of his men even when it had been clearly stripped from him.

  Brooklyn slung the door against the wall and came out of the bathroom with her gun drawn. The first man she saw, she took as hostage. Turns out, she was lucky.

  Her pistol landed against the head of Leon Santiago. And one of his thug’s came up behind her, pointing a drawn weapon at her head, too. So maybe measuring one’s luck at this point was a bit premature.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What part of stay hidden and out of sight didn’t you understand?” Dante bit out as arms slung one way or another and weapons were aimed at everyone in the room.

  One shot. Just one trigger pulled and it was all over for most of them.

  “Hey, doll,” Brooklyn said, fluttering her eyelashes and acting as if she were just another dumb babe.

  These guys wouldn’t buy her act. They were Santiago’s men. They knew who they were there to kill and they likely understood what kind of previous training each of their targets previously endured.

  Brooklyn cocked her pistol. Fuck! Guns clicked and pointed around the room.

  Dante sneered. “You just had to go first, didn’t you?”

  “Of course,” she drawled. “Where I come from, ladies are always first in line.”

  “Wait a second!” Leon threw up his hands, palms forward. “There’s no reason for anyone to shoot first, ask questions later.”

  “You should’ve thought about that before you entered my home,” Brooklyn said, her cheeks as red as roses.

  Dante knew from experience. The redder those cheeks, the less likely for a positive outcome.

  “I wasn’t here for you, doll,” Leon said, turning his cheek toward her.

  Brooklyn pressed the gun against his face. She was either determined to leave a little round imprint in his cheek or she planned on pulling the trigger about any time.

  “You and your thugs came into my home with every intention of killing someone.”

  “No. No, that’s not right.”

  The guy behind her, apparently taking her for an inexperienced former agent, quickly lifted his arm as if he were planning to strike her in the back of the head. Forever aware of her surroundings, Brooklyn grabbed Leon by the arm, slung him to the side and by the time his bodyguard came through with the blow, Leon’s head was there to soften the punch.

  “Oh dear. I hate it when that happens,” Brooklyn drawled, immediately catching the thug behind her off his game. Using a swift kick, she brought him to his knees and aimed her gun at his head. “Now that you’ve put your boss to sleep, what do you say you and I have a nice little chat?”

  Dante, who had retrieved a third gun, now had the mini gun dangling from his pinky which probably made Brooklyn slightly nervous since she most likely realized it was the deadliest of his three weapons. His other weapons were aimed at Leon’s men.

  Behind him, Braxton stirred. “Don’t get up,” Dante warned him from the corner of his mouth.

  Of course, the dumbass rose to his feet. One of Leon’s men stood nearby. Apparently, he’d been watching him, too. As soon as Braxton was upright, the fellow hit him over the head with the butt of his gun.

  Showing a mouthful of gold teeth, the guy said, “Boss would be real proud, eh?” After kicking Braxton in the ribs, he added, “Your friend should’ve listened.”

  “He’s not with us,” Brooklyn said, cocking her head and eyeing her prey. “You just saved me the trouble. Last I heard, he’s on your boss’s payroll.”

  “Now I see why you lost interest, doll,” Dante said, glancing at Braxton’s cock. “Predictable men always bored you.”

  “They did indeed,” she said, grinning like a bloodthirsty woman out for revenge. Dragging her victim across the room by the ear, she kept her gun to his head and took a seat, staring at the other six men scattered about the room.

  “So which one of you killed my husband?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  Leon groaned. Dante aimed one gun at the floor where he rested. “Don’t get up or you’re a dead man.”

  Brooklyn crossed one leg over the other, dragged the barrel of her weapon down her victim’s cheek and in a nearly diabolical voice, she said, “Why don’t you and I disappear into the other room and discuss this privately? Want to?”

  “Hell no. You’re a crazy bitch.”

  Dante hated to admit it but she rather looked the part.

  “Well then, tell me something. Who came into my home and killed my husband? I can beat the information out of you or you can start talking.”

  “Uh, Brooklyn, is there any chance you might let this go?”

  “No,” she replied, her gaze working over each man as mechanically as a machine moves on a manufacturing line.

  “It was him.” The man whom she held at gunpoint indicated a burly guy standing in the middle of the room.

  “Hmm,” she said, studying the accused. “So you killed my husband?”

  The man didn’t reply.

  “Answer me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you kill Martino Mancini?”

  The man’s left eye twitched. Brooklyn apparently had contemplated his next move before the guy realized there was only one way to save himself, a quick try for his weapon.

  Pow! Pow! Pow!

  Three shots to the heart and the loser never stood a chance.

  “Fuck!” someone screamed.

  “Self-defense,” Brooklyn said, no remorse in her voice.

  The others squirmed. Weight shifted everywhere.

  “Don’t try it.” Dante warned the others as Brooklyn’s eyes widened with recognition, acknowledgement of having killed the man who’d taken her husband’s life.

  “An eye for an eye, Brooklyn,” Dante said, trying to ease any guilt she might feel.

  Immediately she rose from the bed. She suddenly had a different demeanor, one he’d only heard about from his brother.

  Brooklyn had death in her gaze, anger pumping through her veins as she approached the corpse sprawled on her bedroom floor. Kneeling next to him, she lifted her head and met an older fellow’s direct glare.

  “You’ll die as brutally as your husband before you.”

  “I believe you mean that,” she said, lifting her gun and pulling the trigger.

  “Brooklyn!” Dante yelled, jerking his arm toward the wall when one of their intruders made a sudden move. “Stay right there. No one else needs to die here.”

  “I have some rope under the bed,” she said casually.

  “Rope? Why?”

  She pointed at Braxton. “Don’t ask.”

  Everything happened very quickly then. Dante backed to the mattress, leaned down, located four coils of rope and began tying up the remaining, conscious men, binding two of them together at a time. When he finished, Brooklyn collected their weapons, emptied their chambers, and packed the guns in a duffle bag.

  “You can’t hide from Leon,” one of the men warned.

  “Leon looks intimidating, f
or sure,” she said, nudging him with her foot.

  “You’ll never get away,” the same man said. “No one in our business lives forever.”

  Brooklyn approached him. Apparently prepared to meet his maker, the guy bowed his head and closed his eyes. Brooklyn pointed her gun. Aiming at his temple, she said, “Maybe not, but if I see any of you near my family again, it will be the last time you follow through on a kill order for those of us with the Mancini name. Do you understand me?”

  “Brooklyn, we have to go,” Dante said, grabbing the bag from her hand.

  Brooklyn squatted to the floor, ran her fingernail down Leon’s cheek and whispered in his ear, loud enough for only Leon and Dante to hear. “Tell your granddaddy we’re even, boy. Tell him that if I ever see or hear from him again, I will take out his family in one day, leaving their remains scattered all over the Upper East Side. I’ll do it in memory of my husband. You tell him what I said.”

  “Brooklyn, now!” Dante bellowed, hearing sirens in the distance.

  Turning once to gaze at the room she must’ve known she’d never see again, she took Dante’s offered hand. Together, they fled the building, pausing long enough to discard the mob’s weapons in the dumpster before continuing up the sidewalk.

  Chapter Twelve

  Driving out of the city, Brooklyn was quiet. She kept gnawing on her thumbnail and never bothered glancing at Dante, something that greatly disturbed him.

  She’d seen death. She’d fought her way out of guerilla type situations in foreign countries and protected some of the world’s wealthiest families. Now, suddenly, when she was fighting for her own, she seemed troubled by the death she’d left in her wake.

  “Talk to me,” he said as he turned onto the ramp heading toward Interstate 95. “What happened back there?”

  “I should’ve killed them all.”

  Surprised by her revelation, he took a deep breath and narrowed his gaze on the road before him. “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Because I’m not paid to kill anymore. It’s not my job to be judge and jury.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you,” Dante said. “The first man you took out killed Martino. I would’ve shot him if you hadn’t. We both know he was the one sent for Ariela both times. You saw the Intel yourself. He’d gloated about the assignment.”

  She nodded. “And the other guy?” She swallowed hard as she thought about the first day she’d set eyes on him. “The other guy had been in my house before.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dante asked, stepping on the brake and swerving to the other lane.

  “Ariela was playing on the sidewalk,” Brooklyn said, closing her eyes as if she couldn’t even begin to explain her child’s close call with death. “She’d rushed out into the street to chase a ball. Next thing I know, car horns are honking. I heard the screech of tires and then a hard knock fell upon the door. As I was hurrying outside, I opened up the door and found him there with Ariela. He’s unforgettable with that scar running from his eye to his chin. And he was standing on my porch, holding my little girl. Ariela was tucked under one arm and her ball was in his free hand.”

  “You never told me about that.”

  “Because I knew you’d scold me for letting her play in the street alone and you would’ve been right.” She fell against the headrest, watching listlessly as traffic passed. “I knew then. When I opened the door and found him there with Ariela, I knew. Something just told me that he was there to scare us, warn us of things to come.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Yes. He said, Next time you might not be so lucky. A pretty little girl like this shouldn’t be left to play in the streets of New York alone. Then, he looked me up and down, ran his thumb over his bottom lip and added, and neither should their mothers. Then, he left. I never saw him again until today.”

  Dante reached across the seat and stroked the back of her head, appreciating the silky feel of her hair as he knotted his fingers through the locks. “I love you, Brooklyn.”

  Pivoting in her bucket seat, she said, “That’s the only thing I’m sure of at this very moment. You love me.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, clasping her hand and drawing her fingers to his lips. “What do you say we go find our little girl?”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more.”

  * * * *

  “Holy hell,” Brooklyn breathed, her legs widening. While waiting on their private jet, they’d decided to check-in at a nearby hotel and pass away the time in a more satisfying manner.

  Dante positioned himself between her thighs, spreading her pussy lips as his tongue slipped inside her moist cunt. Taking indulgent licks, he waggled his tongue from side to side, making her crazy, taking her to the brink and just daring her to come.

  Her hips shot off the bed as his attention to detail became more aggressive. His face moved from side to side as he feasted on her pussy, making her body into a man’s meal.

  Gripping the sheets underneath them, her knuckles numbed as her feet flattened against the mattress. Pumping her bottom away from the mattress, she cried out as he pushed three fingers inside her, covering her opening with his sinful mouth and most wicked tongue.

  “Dante!” she screamed, her fingers latching onto the wet curls topping his head. “Oh God, Dante. Please!”

  Sipping her folds, he drew the texture between his lips, sipping at the skin as if they were flavored with an aphrodisiac. “There,” he whispered, sticking his tongue inside her pussy and stilling against her.

  “No, Dante. Oh God, no. Don’t leave me like this.” She rose to a half-seated position, squeezing her thighs against his face in an effort to drive him forward.

  “What’s wrong, doll?” he asked, grinning as he crawled up her body. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “For you.”

  “For me?”

  “Hmm,” she purred, reaching down the length of his body and wrapping her hand around his cock.

  “Now that’s nice,” he said, sliding forward in one fluid motion. Taking her hand in his, he slipped inside her, entwining their fingers at the same time he impaled her. “But this feels much nicer.”

  “Oh yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  With her black hair fanning around her, she looked like a dark angel. Perhaps she was an angel with clipped wings, a woman with so many life burdens, she’d never be able to escape her past, but her history was what made her so beautiful, so strong.

  As if his slow strokes alarmed her, she opened her eyes and watched him as he loved her. “Is that all you have for me, big boy?” she asked, locking a leg behind his knee and forcing him to roll to his back. “I would’ve thought after all the foreplay, you’d have a little more excitement in store.”

  He laughed as she seated herself atop him, her wild and reckless nature taking hold like a violent hurricane. The comparison made him as hard as stone as her body undulated. She rode him with confidence and spunk.

  Oh yes, she was like an expected category four storm, untamed and unmanageable. And while she was beautiful to watch in motion, she wasn’t one to take for granted, never one to underestimate. Just as the eye of a hurricane could be quite deadly, his woman was just as dangerous.

  She loved hard. She loved unconditionally. And if anyone moved too close to her core, she struck out without warning, taking out everything in her path and everyone who stood in her way.

  “I love you,” she said, her words warming him as the woman returned, the evidence of the killer disappearing as she became soft and vulnerable, sexy and desirable.

  “I love you too,” he assured her, more captivated by her than ever before. “And I’m about to love you a lot more.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered across his lips, squeezing his shaft as her tongue stroked the inside of his mouth.

  As her heat enveloped him, he saw a beautiful future unfold. A picturesque setting engulfed them as they made love on a beach
, the two of them frolicking on the sand under the moonlight.

  In the distance he imagined laughter, a little boy and a little girl yelled out for their momma and daddy, giggling as if they understood they were interrupting some sort of private moment. Maybe Momma Costello would grumble about how they acted like lovesick teenagers and Billy would search for them, understanding his place among them, a position secured only with a dual invitation.

  All these things ran through his head as he pounded inside her, listening to her soft breathing against his ear. “Now, Dante. Come for me.”

  Drawing his knees forward, he lifted her body over him, kissing her breasts as she found a satisfying rhythm, never breaking their connection, never changing her stride.

  “Love me hard. Love me forever,” she cried out, tears welling in her eyes as she collapsed against him.

  His hand knotted in her hair as he pumped his seed inside her. Her body milked his as he poured inside her, praying for new life as he stroked her with hard beats, pounding his cock harder and harder, going deeper with every stroke.

  Minutes later, as they lay with their arms entwined, he whispered against her ear, “Forever isn’t long enough, Brooklyn. Forever with you is just a blink of an eye.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Twenty-two hours later

  Hamilton, Bermuda

  “Momma!” Ariela ran into her arms, meeting her on the sandy Bermuda beaches.

  Harry had met them at the airport and the plan had been to send Harry back to the States but he wasn’t ready to go. He claimed he had more family there in Bermuda than he had waiting back in New York.

  “Harry,” Ariela said, shaking her finger at the older man. “You didn’t tell me you were gonna go get my momma!”

  She kissed her mother from cheek to cheek, patted her face like she was the caretaker rather than the child. She literally beamed when she spotted Dante. “Let me down, Momma! Let me down!”