Misled: A Bad Boy Mafia Romantic Suspense

by Penelope Marshall

  "My phone was off all last night. I just turned it on this morning."

  "Explains why they weren't able to find you. Plus, I'm sure Sal didn't expect you to come straight to me, of all people."

  "Are you taking me back?"

  "No. That fucker tried to kill me. The contract is off."

  Then the inevitable question arose. "Are you gonna leave me here?"

  He peered down at his coffee for a moment then back up at me. "No."

  "Why?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "It does to me."

  He pushed himself off the doorframe and continued into the room, sitting in the chair next to my bed. Taking a sip from the cup as he sat back, he peered out the window, which had a view of a children's park.

  His lips parted. "My mom—she was like you. Scared and alone. No one would help her when she sought out help from my drunk ass father. No one cared until they found her beaten to death, lying in her own bed—in her own fucking bed."

  He shook his head and took another sip of coffee.

  "Your father?"

  He nodded.

  "What was her name?"

  He lifted his sleeve, revealing a large rose tattoo on his arm. "Rose. I know it's not usual for a man to have flowers as a tattoo, but it's all I can do to pay some sort of respect to her. I should've done something, but I was only five."

  "I think it's beautiful, and what could you do as a little boy? It wasn't your fault."

  "That's what people keep telling me," he said sarcastically.

  "So is that why you're helping me—penance?"

  He peered over his shoulder. "All that matters is that I'm helping you. The reason doesn't matter."

  I'd always known he was a good man. He didn't fit in with Sal and the rest of the cold-hearted bastards he kept around, but it never occurred to me that he could have a past so damaged that it could bring him to a place where he'd work for someone like my brother.

  "What are we gonna do?"

  "The doctors have said you were fine, and that when you woke up, I could take you home."

  "Home?"

  "I had to say you were my wife so I could stay."

  I chuckled. "A wife? I could never be someone's wife."

  "Why not?"

  "I've lived all my life under a man—my father—my brother. A husband would just be another prison."

  "So, never?"

  I shook my head. "Never."

  The sounds of footsteps neared the door, it was a doctor dressed in black scrubs and a long, white lab coat. "You're awake."

  "I'm awake," I echoed.

  He shined a small, sleek flashlight in my eyes then jotted down something on his notepad. "Alright, you're ready to go. If your head starts to hurt, please come back."

  Isaiah chimed in, "We will, Doc. I just wanna get her home and take care of her." He winked at me.

  He put his pen away. "Well, alright."

  "Thank you, Doctor," I said, waving him off.

  As soon as he walked out, I turned to Isaiah. "Where to now?"

  "I have a safe house, but it's not what you'd expect. We can stay there until I can figure out what to do."

  ACROSS TOWN

  SLOANE

  He slowly paced the desk, tapping his finger along the edge as he went. My eyes darted to each corner of the room, wishing I was somewhere else—anywhere else. I didn't want to be there, especially when he started yelling at me for what I'd done.

  He stopped pacing, and said in a low voice, "Tell me what I wanna hear."

  I held in a breath, knowing the consequences of admitting my mistake.

  "Well?"

  "He was sitting right next to me. I thought it'd take longer to find her, since she didn't have her phone on all night. She must've just turned it on the minute he got here. What are the chances?"

  "You were supposed to hold him here longer. My guys didn't have time to fuckin' get across town to kill her and set him up for it. Who knew she was smart enough to figure out where he lived, or to even find her way off this damn street without a chauffeur."

  "Whoa, whoa, wait. You didn't tell me you were gonna set him up. You just said—"

  Instantly, he was standing over me—his hands clutching onto the arms of my chair. "Do you think I give a fuck what you thought?"

  "No, I—"

  His eyes blazed with anger. "You're right. I don't care! Now fuckin' find them so I can be done with this shit and move on." He straightened his posture and slicked back his hair, which had fallen forward when he leaned over me.

  "I'll find them."

  "I'm leaving Elias here to keep an eye on you. I can't afford any more mistakes. Fuck sending Isaiah to jail to have the associates in there kill him. I want that son of a bitch's head and all my dirt he has hidden in there on my fuckin' desk by tomorrow." He buttoned his blazer and walked out my office door.

  Fuck. What have I gotten myself into?

  Elias closed the door behind them and stood there like a wall with his hands clasped together, imprisoning me in my own office.

  "Did you want something to drink?" I asked, trying to break the tension.

  He just stood there, staring at me.

  "Well, okay then." I spun back to my computer and began to type code aimlessly; hoping the goliath watching from behind couldn't read that I was typing nonsense.

  Maybe this would give Isaiah time to get away and make up for my part in this whole disaster. I couldn't believe I had gotten in bed with these animals, and now, not only was I paying for it but so was my only real friend.

  I opened a small screen in the bottom corner of one of the bigger screens, trying to shield it with my body. Locating Isaiah's phone wouldn't be hard, but I was hoping he had already gotten rid of it. If not, then I could at least send him a message to run.

  The locator turned up nothing. He must've shut off his phone. I let out a long sigh of relief.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I asked sarcastically, "Pizza?"

  Big surprise—the oaf didn't reply. Turning back to my computer, I began to key in The National Anthem, pretending to be diligently searching for Isaiah and Mellissa.

  SAL

  Walking down the hall, the anger in me grew. I'd be damned if I was gonna let that little bitch ruin what I had going. This wasn't the first time I'd crossed this bridge, but it certainly was going to be the last.

  BUNKER

  ISAIAH

  "This is it. It's not much, but it's safe and off the grid, which is where we need to be right now."

  Holding the metal door open which led to a small underground bunker, I motioned for her to walk in. She was timid at first, not an unusual response when walking into a dark stairwell with a stranger, but she went in just the same. Outside was probably scarier than anything I had to offer down there.

  "Watch your step, I don't need you to hit your head again."

  "You sound like you care." She chuckled slightly.

  "I do—" I stopped myself, not realizing the depth of the answer I'd just given. "—I mean, I don't wanna have to go back to the hospital."

  She glanced over her shoulder and smiled in the waning light. I returned the smile before glancing over to the car, making sure it was fully covered by the black tarp I kept in the trunk for emergencies. Closing the door behind me, the one light bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling by a foot of rope flickered on, lighting the way down the staircase.

  "Have you ever brought anyone—"

  Before she could finish, she lost her footing and fell forward. I dropped everything I was carrying and leaped off the step, seizing her midair. Holding her close to me, I braced for impact—my back hitting the ground with a thud. There was no way I was letting her get hurt on my watch again.

  The searing pain from the fall coupled with the added weight of another was crippling, but I held it in. When the dust settled, and I had my wits about me, I opened my eyes to her face an inch from mine.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "
Are you?"

  "I'll be fine. You should probably head into the common space and look around, I'll be right in."

  Bracing myself for her movement, I held my breath, hoping I hadn't broken anything, but she didn't move. "Is something wrong?"

  "Not wrong, but—"

  "What?"

  "Kinda hard to move when you won't let go," she whispered, glancing over to my left arm.

  I hadn't realized I was still holding on to her. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Thank you for saving my life—again."

  Unclasping my hands, I pulled my arms away, releasing her from my grip. She pushed herself off of me and stood up, stretching out her hand to help me up.

  "I'm okay."

  "You can't always be the strong one, you know."

  "It's all I know."

  She leaned in even closer, making it easier for me to grab her slender hand. "Take my damn hand."

  Her sass induced a visceral reaction in me, which I struggled to control. Everything about her was misleading. She was sweet, but direct—a beautiful murderer. Quite the opposite of the kind of woman I was used to. They were always so meek and willing to submit to me—not her, though. Not that I wouldn't enjoy trying to make her.

  I took a second leap and grabbed her hand, letting her help me from the floor. It'd been a long time since I let anyone help me, other than Sloane of course, but he was different, and so was she. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious to know what she looked like under all those designer labels, but now was neither the time nor the place, to be thinking of such things.

  MELLISSA

  We must've been standing face to face for what felt like hours, but I'm sure it was only a few seconds. The electricity between us was undeniable—something I'd felt in passing whenever he came by to speak with Sal, but I'd always dismissed it as pure lust for a hot, chiseled bounty hunter.

  But this wasn't that. This was something else. I'd come to him for refuge, and he offered up his life. There was no way he'd be able to go back to what he knew before I stepped foot into his apartment, but he knew that.

  "What do we do now?" I asked, trying to break the silence.

  He loosened his grip from my hand, taking his warm touch with him. "We have to stay here until I can figure out where I can take you."

  "Will it be forever?"

  "If you wanna stay alive."

  I broke away from his hard stare. "That's still up in the air."

  "Why do want to die? You apparently wanted help when you came to my apartment."

  "Yes, but—"

  "And there's been something bugging me for a while—how'd you know where I live?"

  "I was in the car once when Sal stopped to speak with you about something."

  "One time, and you remembered how to get there from way across town?"

  "You're quite memorable," I murmured, hoping he wouldn't hear—but he did.

  He backed away, seemingly caught off guard by what I'd just said. "So, let me show you where you'll be sleeping," he said, brushing by me.

  I didn't respond, except to turn and follow him into the central area of the bunker which reminded me of a rather large prison cell. I knew this because I had to visit most of my family at least once or twice while they were incarcerated.

  The floor and walls were made of solid concrete, and the only light the bunker offered emanated from a bulb hanging from the ceiling. There was only room for one on the small cot, dressed with a wool blanket and one small square pillow. A small shelving unit butted up against a wall on the opposite side of the room, stocked to the brim with canned beans and vegetables, and packets of what I could only assume to be some sort of freeze-dried food.

  "I have to tell you something about—" I started.

  But he cut me off. "No! I don't need to hear."

  "But—"

  "It won't change anything. We are where we are. All we need to do is survive now."

  "Don't you—"

  "What did I say, woman?" he asked sternly.

  I shrunk back at his dominance.

  "Now, there's a small bathroom just under the staircase, right there. It's not much—a small toilet and a stand-up shower barely big enough for me, but you should be fine."

  I nodded, biting my lip as I took in my future, wondering how long we'd have to stay. A day? A week? A year? Was it even possible for two people to live in such cramped quarters without any sunlight?

  The questions rolled around in my brain as he continued to speak. I'd tuned him out since I found everything he was saying depressed me. In short, I was never going to see anyone I knew again. This must've been what my cousin Anthony felt when he was whisked off in the middle of the night to witness protection.

  Would anyone miss me? What kind of lies would Sal spread about me? All of it was too much to handle, and it all exploded in one angry shout, "Shut up!"

  "Excuse me?"

  "I said shut up. I don't care about the size of the bathroom, or what I can make if I'm hungry. I want to know when this is gonna be over?"

  He paused, possibly contemplating his next sentence before taking a step toward me.

  "No," I whimpered, taking a step back. "Tell me."

  He stepped back. "I can't answer that. Maybe—maybe tomorrow. Maybe never."

  "Never?" I asked as the sadness began to prick the back of my eyes, which began to well with tears.

  "But that's worse case. I need to contact Sloane, and he'll get us out of town."

  "Then why haven't you contacted him?"

  "I don't have a phone."

  "Well let's drive there."

  "He lives in the same neighborhood as Sal. We run the risk of getting picked up as soon as they see my car."

  "So then what, dammit?"

  "Why are you so angry? Weren't you ready to die a few hours ago?"

  "But I'm not dead, am I? And living in a hole for the rest of my life doesn't seem an exciting alternative."

  "Do you think I wanna be down here?"

  "I dunno what you want. You seem content in meager places."

  The moment the words jumped out from my mouth, I wanted to yank them from the air. How dare I?

  "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

  "Don't be, it's how you feel. Good things to know," he said matter of factly.

  Fuck me!

  He turned his back to me and began to peruse the shelf.

  So fucking stupid. Stop taking your anger out on him.

  Inching my foot forward, I stretched out my hand to touch his shoulder, but I stopped myself. Now wasn't the time to fight. The room wasn't big enough for the two of us and the anger I would incite from any other stupid thing I might say.

  I pulled my hand back and started for the cot to have a seat. He needed to cool off, and I needed to let him.

  ISAIAH

  It had been hours since she'd said anything else to me, and I wasn't sure how long she could keep up the silent treatment. Having spent years as a SEAL, I could definitely hold my tongue, even in the most extreme situations, but this was the civilian world, and I'm sure she needed to hear something comforting.

  I closed the book I'd been reading and set it on top of the stack I'd pulled it from. "Are you hungry?"

  She shook her head.

  "Thirsty?"

  Again, she shook her head.

  "Can you speak?"

  She didn't even bother to look up from her twiddling thumbs.

  Goddammit!

  This woman was pushing me to my limits. I wanted to take her over my knee and spank her attitude into next week.

  "Listen, if this is gonna work, I'm gonna need you to lose the attitude."

  "Attitude? I just don't wanna say anything else to piss you off."

  "I think we both need to take a step back. I don't wanna fight with you."

  "I just wanna go home and pretend like none of this ever happened."

  "You know that's never gonna happen, right?"

  "This is insane!"

  "That's the fuc
kin' mafia for you. I should've just stayed my ass in the military."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "I didn't have a choice."

  "Like, you got kicked out? Doesn't it take some major shit to get kicked out from the military?"

  "I don't wanna talk about it," I said, waving her off.

  "Fuck that. I wanna know who I'm trapped in a room with. What did you do?"

  "What makes you think you have a right to demand shit from me?"

  "Then don't say shit. Just tell me when it's time to run. That seems to be all you're good at—running."

  "Again with the insults? Can't you say a simple sentence without trying to take a jab at me? I seem to remember saving your goddam life not so long ago. Three times, actually."

  She lifted her hand to her neck, rubbing the bruise which had formed from Chriss' attempt to choke her to death. She turned away, looking toward the staircase as she lifted her feet onto the cot and wrapped her arms around her bent legs.

  I decided it was best to bite the harshness from my tongue and try to mend the fence that was deteriorating right before my eyes. If letting her in was going to calm the situation then that's what I was going to do.

  Crossing my arms, I leaned the back of my head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "I remember it like it was yesterday, you know?"

  The grip on her legs loosened. "Remember what?"

  "The reason I'm not in the military anymore."

  "You don't have too. I was just being a selfish—"

  "I want to. I want you to know me, so you can trust me."

  "What makes you think I don't?"

  I shrugged, not wanting to start another fight.

  "I found you remember? Because I trust you," she told me.

  "Yeah, why is that? I've only brushed by you a few times. Never long enough to get a sense of my character. What if you were wrong?"

  She took her time answering, skimming over the contents of the room. "I didn't have anything to lose, and I was willing to bet my life on you."

  Her confidence in me sparked something I hadn't felt in years. It was a confidence my team put in me during every op. I felt the rush that I used to get when the plane landed on U.S. soil, and every member of my team was present and accounted for.