by CJ Bishop
Maybe next time you’ll listen and stay home.
If there was a next time. If Flynn’s dad and his men got the upper hand, she may not get out of here alive. And if she did…would she even have a family to go home to?
The thought crippled her mind and she told herself that Cruz and Sanchez were smart, their men were smart. And surely the cowboy wasn’t an easy target if he’d survived this long. They would get her out and they would all go home in one piece. She had to believe that.
But will Flynn make it? If her and her family survived…would it mean that Flynn would have to die? Would there be any other way? As long as Flynn had breath in him…he would go after Cruz. Was death the only thing that would stop him?
Caterina felt sick at heart. She wanted to hate Flynn for deceiving her, yet even now, she could see how he was trying to keep her safe. Why would he do that if he had no real feelings for her whatsoever? Why not just hand her over to Riccardo if he didn’t care about her? All of this would be easier if he didn’t care…and if she didn’t care. There was no way they could both come away from this situation a winner. Whoever survived would suffer the loss of the other.
Just forget about him and focus on getting out of here.
As soon as she sent out her call—she abruptly ended it and shoved the phone under her pillow as the doorknob twisted and Riccardo entered with a food tray. He closed and locked the door behind him. Caterina scooted up further against the pillows, watching the man warily.
Riccardo placed the tray on the nightstand; it contained a dish of strawberries, two smaller dishes filled with whipped topping and chocolate syrup, a small ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, and two champagne glasses. He smiled at Caterina, a heat in his eyes that chilled her. “Your boy had to go out for a while,” he said quietly. “I promised to look after you while he was gone, so you wouldn’t be lonely.”
“I’m fine,” Caterina whispered. “I don’t need…looking after.”
“Every woman needs looking after by a man,” he murmured as he filled the two glasses half full.
What century was this guy from? It disturbed her how much he reminded her of Armand. “Not this woman.”
He chuckled. “Are you telling me you didn’t like the way Flynn took care of you the last couple nights? Because I have the video and audio that insists otherwise.”
Had he really recorded them? It turned her stomach to think of him watching her and Flynn have sex. Had he jerked off to it? The imagery made her queasier.
“Here.” He offered her one of the glasses.
She just stared at him incredulously, refusing to accept the drink. “What’re you doing? I’m a prisoner here. I’m not going to sit here and drink champagne and eat strawberries with you like this is some fucking date. I wouldn’t even if we weren’t in this situation. You disgust me.”
Riccardo looked at her and sighed. “You know, a man could take offense at that,” he murmured. “And some men don’t handle offense well. I would think a beautiful, smart woman like you would take more care in cooperating with a man like me…especially when her lover isn’t here to prevent me from indulging myself.”
Caterina swallowed, her heart beating faster. Had Flynn really left? It had provided her a measure of comfort to know he was somewhere in the house. But if he wasn’t here…
Riccardo smiled coolly, clearly detecting the shift in her. He offered the glass again and this time she took it. “Much better,” he said. “It isn’t nice to be impolite.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held up his glass. “To us…” his eyes roamed over her tits then up to her face. “…getting to know each other much, much better.” He held out his glass in a toast, his eyes telling her to comply.
Caterina’s hand trembled as she touched her glass to his.
“Very nice,” Riccardo murmured and sipped his drink. Caterina drank as well. “Now…” Riccardo set his glass aside and picked up a strawberry, dipping it in the whipped cream. “…we sample some delicacies.”
Caterina shivered at the emphasis he put on delicacies as his eyes again crawled all over her body. When he touched the strawberry to her lips, she opened up and took a bite. He smiled and leaned closer—licking a dab of whipped cream from her lower lip. Caterina instinctively drew away, her back touching down against the pillows.
Licking his lips, Riccardo twisted toward her and slid his hands up the bed on either side of her as he partially hovered over her body. He lowered his head and kissed her stomach through her blouse, his tongue snaking between two buttons and slithering across her bare skin underneath. Her abdomen quivered and she closed her eyes. Please don’t let him rape me. Please don’t let him rape me.
Her pleas were thwarted as he slid one hand under her shirt and rubbed up her ribcage, cupping her breast. His breath came faster, hotter, and he began to bite at her body through her blouse until his mouth was on her tits, grabbing and sucking her nipples. He let loose, panting hard, and opened her blouse.
“Don’t…” she trembled. “Please…”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rasped. “What I do to you will feel so much better than what Flynn did.” His mouth covered her left breast, sucking hungrily through her very thin lace bra as his hand slipped down between her thighs and rubbed her pussy through the sleek fabric of her slacks. He fumbled with the button and unzipped her pants, then his hand was inside, working her clit.
Caterina gasped and squeezed her eyes tight, willing her body not to respond. Sick at the thought of cumming for him. But her body only understood that it was being stimulated—and reacted to the sensations. She clenched her jaw, struggling not to whimper or moan. Her throat worked and tears forced out beneath her clamped eyelids. Riccardo shifted his urgent mouth to her neck, sucking her skin, then his hot breath puffed into her ear.
“No use fighting it,” he panted. “You’re going to cum for me. Might as well enjoy it.”
Caterina choked on a shuddered cry as her hips suddenly jerked with the force of the orgasm. She gasped and turned her face into the pillows, breathing erratically, her inner muscles pulsing and flexing and pumping out her hot juices onto the man’s fingers.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” he groaned and smeared his fingertips through her wetness, then assaulted her clit again until she was crying out and cumming a second time. He chuckled, breath ragged. “Admit it. You’re having a good time.”
“Please…stop,” she whispered shakily.
“I don’t think that’s what you really want,” he murmured against her lips, sliding his tongue into her mouth. He grabbed her tongue and sucked as he shoved his hand deeper into her pants and buried two fingers inside her, pumping firmly as his thumb massaged her throbbing clit. Moments later, she squealed into his mouth, her hips arching on reflex as she coated his fingers once more. He jerked out of the kiss, grinning broadly. “Oh fuck yes! You’re getting into now.” He kissed her again hard. “Wait till I get my big fat cock in you, baby, you’ll be squealing like a fucking banshee. But first…” he sat back, pulling his hand free, and unfastened his own pants. “I think I deserve a little oral gratification for pleasuring you so good.”
Caterina shuddered, her stomach pinching with nausea. Oh God, please no…
•
Lorenzo Capone caught a lot of flack about his last name, but he was a good sport and accepted the ribbing from the older men. He felt kind of proud to share his first name with the top boss and was teased a bit about that, too. They joked with him as well about his age, insisting he was still just a “baby” at the tender age of twenty. But when it came to doing his job—there was no lack of respect from any of the men. He knew his shit and they knew it, too.
When the cell signal came on, he immediately alerted Cruz via phone.
“You got the location?” Cruz asked.
“Got it, boss,” Capone confirmed. “The phone is still on. Should you try calling her again?”
“She may not be the one in possession of the phone.”
; Capone played with the keys, his fingers dancing over the laptop’s keyboard with precision as he brought up another window. “A call was sent out from her phone a few moments ago, then abruptly ended before it connected.”
“Sent to who?”
Capone cocked his head. “To you, boss.”
•
Riccardo had his dick out, his fist sliding slowly up and down the engorged shaft as it throbbed in anticipation of the woman’s hot mouth sucking him off. Cum juice drooled from the tip and he was about to tell the stricken Caterina to lick it up—when the muffled warbled vibration froze him in place.
Caterina went deathly still, her chest heaving as erratic breath rushed through her nostrils—and fear radiated from her eyes.
“What the fuck is that?” Riccardo dropped his cock as the sound reached him again, quivering the bed.
The woman swallowed hard and pushed back against the pillows. Hiding something?
Riccardo shoved one hand under the pillows and grabbed the cell phone. He stared at the display, brow crunched fiercely. “You sneaky little bitch,” he snorted. “You trying to tip off your boys?” He ignored the call and shut off the phone.
Caterina stared at him wide-eyed.
Backing off the bed, Riccardo stuffed his hard cock in his pants and fastened up. “Don’t go away,” he said. “I’ll be back to finish what we started.” He took the phone and left the room, locking the door behind him, then delivered the device to Terrell. “The woman was hiding this.”
Terrell looked at the cell. His hard stare shifted to Riccardo’s face. “You didn’t search her when you brought her in? Why the fuck not?”
“I’m sorry,” Riccardo offered weakly. “I didn’t think-”
“You didn’t think—that’s the fucking problem. I have a son who doesn’t fucking think. I need you to be more diligent.” His face tightened, lips flattening against his teeth. “How long was she left alone? She could have contacted her family.”
“I didn’t leave her alone that long. But she did get a call.”
“From who?”
Riccardo nodded at the cell. “Cruz Santiago.”
Terrell remained silent, face hard, then stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well…no time like the present to get the ball rolling.”
“Meaning?”
“We call the man back and let him know what’s at stake.” He started to make the call then paused, eyes narrowed as they swept down Riccardo’s frame, noting his disrupted fly. “Keep it zipped until this is over. I already have one man thinking with the wrong head. I don’t need you distracted by your dick as well.”
CHAPTER 27
“Exposed”
______________________________________________
The alley ran between two empty buildings, the far end spilling out onto the gravel drive of a decrepit old house with a dead lawn and boarded up windows. The car rolled through the alleyway at a crawl, the men inside alert and wary.
“Keep your eyes open,” Flynn murmured from behind the wheel.
The other two men—both older than him—exchanged a look. “We don’t need you to lead us,” the guy up front muttered. “We know what we’re doing. You’re the risk factor.”
Flynn pressed on the brake and stopped the car halfway through the alley. He looked at the man. “You got a problem with me, Hal?”
“Yeah. I do. You’re reckless and don’t know how to take orders. It’s assholes like you who get people killed.”
The man in the backseat—Cullen—agreed with Hal.
“Well, my father put me in charge here, whether you like it or not,” Flynn said stiffly. “Clearly he trusts me enough to get the job done.”
Hal snorted and tossed a dry look at Cullen.
“What?” Flynn demanded.
“Terrell sent you because if this is a trap and you get capped, it’s no loss to him.” Hal chuffed. “Riccardo is more valuable to him and he didn’t want to risk him being taken out.”
Flynn thought that sounded about right. It made more sense than his father actually trusting him. He shrugged. “Guess you two are expendable as well.” He let off the brake and urged the car on down the alley.
“Why are we meeting Carter here?” Cullen asked. “Why would he bring the guy here, instead of taking him back to the house?”
Hal shook his head. “I’m guessing the guy figured out who Carter was and lured him out here with the promise of a good hard ass-fucking.” Disgust pinched his face and he muttered, “Fucking faggot. He spends so much time in that stinking shithole club that he never stops smelling of the place. It’s fucking nauseating.”
Cullen smirked. “He ever proposition you?”
“Fuck no. You?”
“Yeah,” Cullen admitted with a curt laugh. “Just once. I knocked him on his ass and told him if his cock ever touched me, I’d cut the fucker off.”
Hal chuckled sourly. “Sick motherfucker.”
Flynn ignored their talk. He didn’t care either way if a man was queer. To each his own. He parked the car when they reached the gravel drive, waited a moment as he looked around, then opened his door and climbed out. “So, where is he?” Cullen muttered uneasily. “We’re pretty isolated from the main streets.”
Headlights flashed from inside the dilapidated garage next to the house, the vehicle lost in deep shadows.
Hal withdrew his weapon. “Watch your asses.”
The three men approached the garage with caution. Flynn kept his eyes on the old house, watching for any discreet movement that indicated there were others stationed in hiding. The closer they came to the garage, the more his gut told him this was a bad idea. Why was Carter staying inside the garage? Why not step out and meet them?
Flynn stopped as Hal and Cullen continued a few more paces then paused and looked at him. “What?” Hal asked.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Flynn murmured, gun squeezed in his fist. “Tell Carter to get out here where we can see him.”
Hal glanced at the garage. “How about you just let me lead this little mission,” he said. “I doubt your gut feelings are all that reliable.”
Cullen nodded. “What experience do you have in these kinds of situations?” he asked Flynn. “I’m not comfortable with your hunches calling the shots.”
“Fine,” Flynn muttered. “Do your thing. I’m only after one motherfucker, and I seriously doubt he’s the one Carter got his hands on. If he got his hands on anyone. Let’s just get this done and get back.” He tried not to think about Riccardo at the house with Caterina. He didn’t trust the fucker at all. Threats weren’t enough to keep him at bay if he had the opportunity to rape Caterina. Flynn doubted that his father would put any restraints on the man.
Flynn hung back and let Hal and Cullen take the lead. He had no loyalty to them. If shots were fired from the garage, he didn’t mind using them as a shield while he got the hell out of there.
The headlights flashed again when the two men were a few yards from the garage opening. They halted, weapons ready as they squinted into the shadows. Flynn remained a few feet behind them, unmoving.
“Carter?” Hal called. “What the fuck you doing? Bring your guy out.”
The car started and rolled out of the garage, then shot forward as Hal and Cullen cursed loudly and dove out of the way. Flynn moved quickly, bring up his weapon, ready to fire—when the car braked sharply, skidding in the gravel. The windows were partially tinted, making it impossible to identify the driver. Flynn stood his ground, gun aimed at the front windshield. Hal and Cullen crawled to their feet, pissed off and ready to fill the car full of bullets.
The driver door opened and a Hispanic man stepped out. “Did I scare ya?” he grinned, amused.
“Who the fuck are you!” Hal clutched his weapon with both hands, hammer cocked, aiming at the guy’s head.
“I’m your guy,” he nodded.
“Where’s Carter?” Cullen asked crisply, looking around anxiously.
Flynn slowly backe
d away, glancing in all directions. They were fucked.
“Carter…” the man sucked air through his teeth and shook his head. “He’s…well, he’s not the one you should be concerned about.”
“Who are you?” Hal demanded, finger on the trigger.
“Name’s Rodriguez,” the guy smiled as if this were a casual introduction and his life wasn’t at stake. “Emilio Rodriguez, actually, but everyone just calls me Rodriguez on account that one of my amigos has the same first name as me. Less confusion that way.”
“Where the fuck is Carter?” Hal pressed. “Answer me now, motherfucker, or I will paint that fucking car with your brains.”
Rodriguez’s smile didn’t waver as he gazed at Hal. “Badass men are so damn sexy, don’t you think? And you got it going on like nobody’s business. Mph!”
“You a fucking queer?” Cullen scowled.
“Queer isn’t really the proper term these days,” the man replied. “It means something entirely different than what you’re implying.”
“Fine,” Cullen growled. “How about faggot? That work for you?”
Rodriguez shrugged and nodded. “That about sums it up.”
“I asked you a question,” Hal interjected.
“About Carter?” Rodriguez sighed. “Right. He’s dead. My buddies put him in the hot seat and he spilled his guts right before they barbecued him.”
Hal’s facial muscles knotted as he clenched his jaw and gripped his weapon tighter. “You fuck-”
A gunshot cracked—and right side of Hal’s head exploded, splattering Cullen with brains and bits of skull.
Flynn reeled back, shocked to paralysis as another round of gunfire went off—and Cullen’s head snapped back, knocking him off his feet. Flynn stood rigid, heart thudding, his wide-eyed stare locked on Rodriguez, and waited for the echo of a third gunshot, signifying the end of his stint on this earth.
