Hold Me_A mafia romance

by LP Lovell

  “Please ask Rafael to call Nero. It’s important. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

  “Why should we help you?” She greets me with silence. I’m so angry with her, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel guilty. I’m only with Rafael because of her, but she betrayed me when I needed her. And that’s the root of it. I trusted her. I needed her. I have survived so much without her because I had to, and I don’t blame her for that. But the one time she could have helped me, she became the very abuser I prayed for her to save me from. Una is no longer a savior in my eyes but an oppressor. How many other people has she maimed or killed? How many innocent sisters caught in the crossfire?

  “This will help us all. Just have him ring Nero. Please. For my son.” And then she hangs up. Of course, she would mention her child. It’s the one thing that can cut through my rage and pain because he is just an innocent. He knows nothing of the cruelty this world can offer, and I would do everything in my power to shelter my nephew from it.

  I need to find Rafael.

  I step into the kitchen, and Rafael and Samuel are absent, which is normal these days. Lucas offers me a wide smile as he chews on a mouthful of eggs. Carlos jerks his chin at me before turning his attention back to the newspaper in front of him. As I walk past him, I catch sight of the open page. There’s an image of several bodies hanging from a bridge by their feet. Their arms hang limply, blood streaming down limbs from the carved message on their stomachs. All of them say the same thing. War.

  I start to skim the article about the Sinaloa cartel members and a suspected war brewing between the Juarez cartel and the Sinaloa when Carlos closes the paper. When I look at him, he’s staring at me with raised brows. I fold my arms over my chest.

  “So now you’re going to stop me reading the paper?”

  “You don’t need to see this shit.”

  I laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly.”

  “You know that I’m with Rafael, right?” He says nothing. I place my palms flush against the table beside him, leaning over his shoulder. “Carlos, I’m no stranger to the most barbaric practices of the cartels.” I snatch the paper, and he glares at me.

  “The cartels are not Rafael.”

  “It’s one and the same. He’s the boss. He is the cartel.”

  He stands up, taking his mug of coffee over the table before standing toe-to-toe with me. “He is, but not to you. You might not like what you see when you look too closely.” He nods toward the paper in my hand and steps around me, leaving the room.

  I drop into his vacated chair with a huff and open the paper back to the page I was reading.

  “He’s right, you know?” Lucas says.

  I roll my eyes. “You too?”

  “I used to see my brother a certain way. I knew he was in the cartel, but I guess I never really understood the full extent of that. And then I started working with him… I love him. He’s my brother. But I don’t see him the way I used to. The things he does…sometimes it’s hard not to be disgusted.” He shrugs.

  “Lucas, you can’t judge when you’re in the cartel.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, but I’ve always said I could never torture and kill people.”

  “What kind of bodyguard are you if you wouldn’t kill someone for me?”

  “That’s different. I couldn’t just chain someone up and torture them.” He shakes his head, and my mind drifts to a basement, to a chained man, and me…with a gun in my hand and Rafael at my back.

  “If someone wrongs you badly enough you can,” I say quietly.

  “And what if they haven’t wronged you?”

  “In this world, everyone is a bad guy, Lucas. They’ve all got something to atone for.”

  “Even Rafael?”

  I inhale a deep breath and reluctantly meet his gaze. “Yes.” Especially Rafael. But in my mind, he already atoned for anything he’d done when he saved me.

  “Even me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  He taps his finger over the side of the coffee mug on the table in front of him. “It’s not our place to be judge, jury, and executioner.”

  I look at him, really look. His dark hair falls over his forehead, and chocolate eyes lock with mine, full of a kind of innocence I can barely remember ever possessing. I always thought that Lucas and I were similar; lambs living in the den of wolves, but the truth is, I’m far closer to being like Rafael and Carlos than I would ever dare to admit. Rafael once said that I was the angriest person he’d ever met. Maybe that’s true because when I think of that chained man in that basement, all I feel is anger. All I want to do is go back and shoot him again. When I think of his lifeless body with that neat little bullet hole between his eyes, I feel nothing.

  I look down at the paper, at the images plastered across the page. Maybe I should be disgusted, but I’m not. When you’ve watched bad men rape and kill innocent girls, seeing them kill each other is of little consequence.

  I know this was Rafael, and if I didn’t before, then Carlos’ behavior confirmed it. “It’s business, Lucas.” He watches me for a second as though he’s not really sure who I am. “Trust me, there are worse travesties in this world than cartel members being strung up.”

  He drops his gaze to the table quickly. “Of course. You’re right.”

  I don’t have the time or inclination for any kind of pity. “Where’s Rafael?”

  “Office, I think.”

  “Thanks.”

  I get up and head toward the office, but I catch sight of Samuel walking through the front door. The door closes behind him, and I hurry over and glance through one of the windows, watching him walk through the gardens. Where is he going?

  Slipping through the front door, I ignore the guards posted there, hoping they don’t try and stop me. They don’t. I jog through the gardens until I catch sight of Samuel walking into a small outbuilding. It’s nestled against the surrounding property wall and is barely visible beneath all the vines that have grown up the walls and over the roof.

  What is Samuel doing in a shed? On a whim, I follow him, stepping up to the front door and pressing my ear to the heavy wood. I can’t hear anything. Do I knock? Do I just walk in? Lifting my hand, I knock on the door. A few seconds later it opens, and I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, attached to Samuel’s hand.

  I lift a brow. “Really?”

  He releases a long breath and tucks the gun into the back of his pants. “What the fuck are you doing out here?”

  “Following you.” He raises both brows, and I roll my eyes. “I’m looking for Rafe. Obviously.”

  “Let her in, Sam,” Rafael’s deep, distinctive voice comes from within the shed.

  Samuel hesitates for a moment before reluctantly opening the door wider. The second I step into the dingy building, the scent of mildew and the coppery tang of blood assaults me. The door slams shut behind me, and I shiver at the sudden lack of warmth. My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I see Rafael standing in the shadows of the far wall. He’s shirtless, his thick arms folded over his chest. Streaks of blood taint the black ink of his tattoos in large smudges. A low groan has me tearing my attention from Rafael to the man in the middle of the room. He’s on his side in the fetal position, blood pooling beneath him. I can feel Rafael’s eyes on me. The room is so small that it’s difficult to move around the guy, so I step over his legs, avoiding any blood. Rafael’s lips twitch in the shadow of a smile as I go to him.

  “Avecita,” he practically purrs, his eyes sweeping the length of my body.

  I place a hand against his bare stomach, feeling the burning heat of his skin against my palm. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait?” I can see the bloodlust in his eyes—the beast is unleashed. It should probably scare me, but in a way, I identify with it.

  I glance over my shoulder at the bloodied man and Samuel leaning against the door. “Well, I didn’t come into your little death hut to discuss the weather.”

  “O
kay, then talk.” He reaches out, almost absentmindedly and wraps a strand of my hair around his bloodstained finger.

  “Um, maybe privately.” I eye the beaten man who seems to be in a semi-conscious state.

  “No matter. He’ll be dead soon.”

  Okay then. “Una called,” I say. He stills, his eyes snapping to mine, that bloodlust rages to the surface until he looks positively murderous.

  “What did she want?”

  I chew my bottom lip. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t want to speak with her. But she asked that you contact Nero. Apparently, he’s been trying to get hold of you.”

  “I’ve been busy,” he mumbles under his breath.

  “Well, call the Italian. See what he has to say for himself.”

  His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and I can feel the stickiness of the blood on his fingers. “Is that what you want?”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “He doesn’t call unless he wants something. Una must be working with him again if she called you.” I nod. “You might be forced to deal with your sister.”

  On a deep sigh, I drop my gaze. My stomach churns uncomfortably as that sick feeling settles in my gut. He takes my hand, brushing his thumb over the spot where my little finger once was. I don’t bother covering it anymore. I have to come to terms with it at some point, though I’m not there yet.

  “It’s just business,” I say. Of course, it’s not just business. It’s so much more complicated and deeply engrained than that.

  Pulling me closer, he presses his lips to my forehead, and I close my eyes. I inhale the scent of cigar smoke and blood. I absorb his warmth, that impregnable feeling of safety that only he can provide.

  “She’s your sister, little warrior. She’s not just business.”

  “She chose her side, Rafe. Now, she is nothing more than the daughter of a crazy Russian and the partner of a mafia boss. If we need to deal with her, we deal with her.”

  He inhales a deep breath and places his thumb along my jaw, tipping my head back. “So ruthless, avecita.” His lips curl into a wry smile, and he leans in, placing his lips against mine. As the months have passed, his kisses have become far more than warm and comforting. Even the most innocent of brushes is like a drug to me: addictive, calming, exciting. He makes me feel things and want things that I never thought I would desire, and I don’t think I ever could from anyone but him. For a moment, the world disappears, and it’s just him and I in our little bubble. The blood, the danger, business, and family…it all becomes meaningless for just a few seconds.

  He pulls away and once again, reality filters back in. “Call him.” I step back and glance down at my white tank top now covered in faded red and brown smudges. “And put a shirt on.”

  He grins. “Why would you want that?”

  “I’m just thinking of Samuel. You’ll make him jealous.”

  I turn around and hesitate before I step over the now fully conscious beaten man. “Please.” He makes a grab for my ankle until Rafael steps on his wrist, pulling the gun from the back of his waist. I turn away and hurry to the door, slipping outside before I hear the bang.

  I like that Rafael doesn’t hide what he is from me, but I equally, my mind still grapples with that basic morality of coldly shooting a man. Not because it bothers me, but because it really doesn’t.

  What does that make me?

  I’m in the gym with Lucas when Rafael finds me later. Lucas and I are side-by-side, jogging on the treadmills. He’s so much better. The feeling in his legs has pretty much returned, although sometimes he has weakness in his left leg. He’ll get there though. I look up when I spot Rafael’s large form propped against the doorframe. His arms are folded over his chest again, making them look even thicker and him even more imposing. At least he’s wearing a shirt this time. I hit stop on the treadmill and hop off, swiping a towel over the back of my neck as I make my way over to him. Lucas keeps jogging, his feet pounding over the rubber belt rhythmically.

  “You okay?” I ask Rafael.

  “I called Nero.”

  “And?”

  He sighs and jerks his head toward the door. “I’m about to have a meeting with Carlos and Samuel. Come on.”

  I glance down at myself. “Can I grab a shower first?”

  He smirks. “No. I like you sweaty.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “You have a problem.”

  Taking my hand, he leads me into the hallway. “I do, she’s about five foot two, blonde, and gorgeous.” He spins and slams me up against the wall. My breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and my heart skips in anticipation. There was a time when he would have terrified me like this. Now he thrills me. I used to hate the want I saw in his eyes, now I crave it because I know he wants me, he loves me, and he’ll protect me against everything and anything. It’s a heady feeling, that depth of loyalty, of love. And I know all of this from just a look.

  His hands grip my thighs, thumbs running along the edge of my workout shorts where they meet my bare skin. He leaves tingles in his wake as he skims his thumbs back and forth, and then he lifts me, imprisoning me with his hips and caging me with his arms either side of my head.

  “Hey,” I whisper with a smile.

  “Hey.” His lips slam over mine, stealing not just my breath, but everything. It doesn’t matter how many times he kisses me, it always feels earth-shattering, as though he’s realigning the stars just for me. Sparks ignite between us like static electricity powering up before a storm. That’s what he always feels like to me, being thrown into a storm. He’s wild and fierce and utterly chaotic. His lips leave mine, skimming down my throat until he swipes his tongue up the length of my throat. “You always taste so good, avecita.” He always gets like this if I’m sweaty. I should probably find it gross, but there’s something fundamentally primal about it, which makes it so very Rafael.

  His teeth pinch my jaw, and I tilt my head to the side, still struggling to catch a full breath. He sends my body into a tailspin where the most basic functions are a chore. He chuckles, the deep rumbling sound reverberating through me.

  “So responsive, avecita.”

  I turn to face him again. “Only because you’re such a brute.”

  His lips twitch. “A brute? I’m offended.”

  “Of course you are.” I place my lips against his and kiss him slowly, teasing my tongue over his bottom lip. He groans and rolls his hips against me. “I thought you had a meeting,” I say, smiling.

  He lets out a growl. “I do. But you and I will finish this later.” He kisses me once more before allowing me to slide down his body to the ground.

  Threading his fingers through mine, he pulls me toward the office, his pace just a little faster than usual. As soon as we’re in the office, he rushes behind his desk and sits down. I drop my chin to hide a smile. Samuel glances from me to Rafael and back again. Carlos is leaning against a bookcase, one leg crossed over the other and his hands in his pockets.

  “I spoke to Nero earlier,” Rafael starts. Samuel shifts uneasily. “He and Una have a plan to take down Nicholai Ivanov.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why would Una take down her beloved Nicholai?”

  His gaze swings to me, cold and hard, every inch the cartel boss. Gone is my playful man. “It would seem Una is playing both sides. She’s trying to take him down from the inside.”

  “Don’t trust her.”

  “I’m with Anna,” Carlos pipes up from beneath the shadow of his hood.

  Rafael leans back in his chair and takes a cigar from his inside jacket pocket. There’s a tense silence as he places it between his lips and flips the lighter open. It snaps shut, cutting through the silence. Smoke billows around him, making him look almost demonic.

  “The Russians are a problem. And they are virtually untouchable. It’s possible that the only way to take them down is from the inside.”

  “What’s their plan?” Samuel asks.

  “Nicholai wants their child. It seems he sent
Una to retrieve him as a test of her loyalty. She’s in New York now. She wants to go back to Nicholai and tell him that Nero sent the child here, to Anna, for protection.”

  Samuel swipes a hand over his face. “That would bring half of his fucking Elite army down here.”

  Rafael nods and inhales on his cigar. “Yes, but Una believes that Nicholai doesn’t fully trust her. She thinks he will insist on coming.” His eyes lock with mine. “She is his weakness, and so she blinds him to the risk. With him away from Russia, he’ll be at his weakest. It’s our best shot.”

  “That doesn’t help us with the army of Elite he will no doubt bring with him,” Carlos says, pushing away from the bookcase. “Do we have the men to handle this? We’ll need three of ours to every one of theirs. They’re like damn terminators.”

  “I can sort men, but I’m asking you,” he looks at each of us, “as my family, if you want to get into this? I won’t drag you into a war, but I also have to remind you of the fact that this is the rock, and Nicholai having our port and causing a cartel war is the hard place.”

  Samuel drags in a heavy breath, and he looks suddenly worn, tired, his usually put together self, fraying. The war with the Sinaloa, the Russians, the issues with Ricardo…it’s taken its toll on everyone, but Samuel is Rafael’s right hand. He’s the guy that has to shoulder the consequences of the decisions Rafael makes, and in Rafael’s absence, that’s surely been a heavy burden to bear. I’m all too aware of the fact that Rafe has probably made some unfavorable decisions for me. I’m scared that just as Nicholai may walk into a trap because he is blinded by Una, Rafael has led his cartel to destruction for me.

  “Okay. I’m in,” Carlos says.

  “We don’t have much choice, do we?” Samuel adds.

  Rafael snaps his gaze to me. “Anna?”

  I glance around the room. “Why are you asking me?”

  “It means working with Una.”

  There’s that little pang of hurt in my chest again. I take it and force it down, reaching for the cool indifference that I’m so used to wearing. “Like I said, its just business, Rafe.”

  His gaze holds mine for a beat longer. “Fine. Dismissed.” Samuel and Carlos leave the room, but just as I reach the door, Rafael’s hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me. “Not you.”