by Stone, Piper
“Yes.”
“Good. This is one direction you damn well better follow if you want to live, sunshine.”
“Why don’t we just leave?” I also knew this answer. Because he had to be the badass. Because he had to take control of everything he touched, including me.
Checking his ammo and snapping the clip back into place, he let out a long sigh. “Because it has to be done.”
It. What the hell was it? Killing people? I reached out but he was gone, scampering across the sand in a stealth-like pattern. A shiver raced down from my tense neck all the way to my calves, creating a slight cramp. Another string of vibrant lighting highlighted his form just before he disappeared. I was frozen for a few seconds before moving quickly, taking the stairs two at a time. The rain started only seconds before I made it into the house, my fingers fumbling, trying desperately to close the door. I was shaking, my breathing ragged, but I finally managed after three attempts to slide the lock into place.
Three giant steps backward and my calves hit the coffee table. Rain pelted against the back of the house, the tinkling sounds as beads hit the window making me jump. Another bolt of lightning seemed to light up the skies, creating ominous shadows, monsters reaching out from all sides.
“Get a fucking hold of yourself.” The whisper was harsh. I was angry, terrified, and worried that Jagger would die and there was nothing I could do to help him.
After calming my nerves, I moved back toward the door, peering out the vertical blinds. As if he found the suspicious men, killed them, and made it back in less than three minutes. The laugh pushing past my lips was hollow. Another few seconds of waiting, hoping, even praying and I did as I was told, finding the flashlight and turning off the light over the stove. The darkness was oppressive, creating a brand new set of monsters slithering into the back of my mind.
I thought about what could happen if these men did try to break into the house. With that in mind, I yanked out a few kitchen drawers, shining the light, searching for the sharpest knife. Yeah, right. That was a ridiculous idea. The guns. That’s it. I knew where his guns were. I rushed into his room, tossing open the closet doors. The bag was no longer there. He’d moved the goddamn weapons. Now, I was pissed. Didn’t he trust me?
Think... He didn’t trust anyone coming into the house, including his friends. The notion was almost more unsettling than the mysterious men. Almost. Slumping onto the floor, I cradled my knees, rocking, trying to gather what wits I might have left, and I was losing them quickly.
Boom!
The thunder was so close the entire house seemed to rattle. I let off a yelp as I scrambled to my feet. At this point, a knife was the only logical choice for any kind of protection. The flashlight firmly planted in my hand, I slid along the hallway wall, listening for Jagger’s knock. Another boom and rattle was followed by what seemed like a hard crack, as if the world was coming to an end. I could hear the rain, beating against the roof and windows, and even making my way into the kitchen seemed exhausting, fear threading through every vein.
In my desperate attempt to find a knife, any fucking knife at this point, I jammed my hand into a drawer. The anguish was horrific, the yelp animalistic. There was no amount of chastising that was enough. Fed up with the flashlight, I flipped the switch for the kitchen light. Nothing. Oh, Jesus Christ. The power was out. Perfect. With one hand grabbing the counter, the other fuddling with the flashlight, I was finally able to catch my breath, hovering the light over my hand. Smashed was the perfect definition. The pain was moving into a throbbing mode, creating beads of sweat along my upper lip.
I refused to give in to any kind of injury. Another attempt and I found the knife drawer, the perfect collection of steel and graphite almost alluring. Grabbing the butcher knife and cradling the flashlight against my chest, I retreated to the living room to wait.
In the darkness.
Alone.
I had no way of knowing how long I’d been sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting. Hoping. When I heard a single tap on the back door, I was elated, jerking to my feet, resisting rushing to the door. The storm was raging at this point, masking every sound, highlighting others. Without shining the light, there was no way I would be able to see who was standing at the back door.
Then I heard a scraping noise.
Oh, no. This wasn’t going to happen. After a few seconds, I bolted into Jagger’s bedroom, crawling into the same closet where I’d prayed to some God a bag of weapons existed. Crouching down, I kept the flashlight beside me, the knife firmly planted in my hand.
And I waited.
One. Two. Three. Ten. One hundred. There was no other sound but the rattling of wind in the eaves and gutters. Until I heard footsteps. I held my breath, every muscle on edge and ready, the knife in both hands. No one was going to take my life. I’d come too far. I’d tried. I’d...
The door was thrown open and I lunged, shooting off a primal scream.
“Lola!”
Just seconds before the blade made contact, a hand snapped my wrist, yanking in a downward motion.
“Lola, honey. It’s me. It’s me, baby.”
“What?” Tears rushed to my eyes, my vision completely impaired but I knew the voice, the wonderful base timbre that usually left me wet and hot, craving nothing more than his touch. “Jagger. You’re alive.”
“I’m right here. Honey, I’m right here.”
I heard the knife hitting the floor just seconds before he pulled me into an embrace, his strong arms pinning me against his chest. He pressed my face to his neck as he intertwined his fingers in my hair. I was gulping for air, tears falling, my stomach churning. He was alive. I was alive. We were here. Together. “Oh, Jagger.”
“It’s okay. Just the storm. I knocked.” Easing me back, he rubbed his fingers down my cheek. “I did knock. I thought something had happened to you. I smashed the glass in order to get in.”
“I...” There were no other words needed, no concept of time or space as he crushed his mouth over mine, thrusting his tongue inside. The kiss was more than just passionate, now a desperate need, a longing as if we’d never see each other again. I could smell his desire, so intoxicating, driving me into a wild and crazed state. I clawed his back, longing to have him inside of me, his cock filling me. I wanted all of this man, this amazing, gorgeous, strong man.
His fingers danced over my skin as he broke the kiss, panting in the darkness. “We have to go.”
“Was I right?”
“The boat wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity, but I could see signs that it had been. You were right. Crazy, but you were right. You need to listen to me very clearly. Grab a few things. There’s a suitcase in your closet. We need to leave here now, within minutes.”
I understood and even though the fear remained, my body and mind reacted. I tossed a few things together and was in the front hall in less than three minutes. He appeared seconds later with two bags and one I knew was filled with weapons. The thought gave me a smile. We were in the car seconds later, rolling down the driveway and I hadn’t bothered to ask where we were going. In truth, I didn’t care. As long as I was by his side.
After making it out to the main road, I expected him to turn in the direction of the small city. Instead, he drove further up and around the mountain, his eyes darting back and forth from the rearview mirror to the road. His terror as well as his anger was palpable, his face lined with worry.
I had my hands clenched, half expecting to see headlights in the side mirror. My fingers were throbbing, creating a massive headache. We passed no one on the road and the darkness was comforting. The storm continued, although the thunder and lightning had ceased. Still, the utter gloom, tree limbs slapping against the windshield and roof was far too foreboding. This was life with Jagger, son of a mafia man. I almost laughed out loud at the thought. He made several turns before he finally spoke, and the tone of his voice alone sent chills racing down my body.
“I called in a favor. We’re staying at
a safe location until the morning. Arrangements are being made to get us out of the country. When the call comes that the plane is ready, we’ll need to leave within minutes. The window will be short, and this is one connection we don’t want to miss.”
“What happened to your pilots?”
Jagger’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “At this point, I can’t trust any of my old contacts.”
“Can’t they find us by tracking your phone?”
He snickered and shook his head. “Long before I learned how to drive, certain instructions were drilled into both my brother and me. The phone is scrambled, the house in a fictitious name.”
Which meant someone he knew had betrayed him.
“I do know what I’m doing, Lola. Whether you want to hear that or not isn’t an option.”
I opened my mouth to ask additional questions but knew there would be jaded answers at best so why bother? Jagger didn’t want me to learn about his sordid life and in truth, that was probably best. He was right that I couldn’t handle his world on any level. By this point tomorrow, I’d be back in Chicago, planning on my return to normalcy.
Only a few seconds later, I was able to see the warm glow of a single light. I could only make out a front door, one small window. Everything else was obscure. He obviously knew exactly where he was going, never hesitating as he pulled around the back of the small house, securing the car away from the road.
He grabbed my hand after cutting the engine as well as the lights, his fingers wrapping around mine. The pitch blackness added another layer of terror. “We should be safe here, but I need to make certain.”
“I know, stay in the car, run far away if you don’t return.”
Bringing my hand to his mouth, he simply pressed his lips against my knuckles. I winced, even though the touch was as electric as always, but I sensed this was the beginning of our goodbye.
“You’re hurt,” he whispered.
“I’m fine.” I was anything but fine.
He was out the door, disappearing within seconds, leaving me anxious, my stomach in knots. I slapped at the door locks and folded my arms, leaning forward. I realized I’d left the flashlight at the house and right here, right now, I grasped onto the fact that not a soul knew where I was. No one would bother searching for me for at least a week.
And by that point? I’d be dead.
Bile stuck in my throat as I strained to define anything around me. Even after my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, forms and shadows seemed to undulate, creating prehistoric beasts. I closed my eyes in an effort to squelch the building hysteria.
One sharp knock on my window and my bodily functions threatened to give way. I could just make out Jagger’s face. After grabbing the bags, he led me to a back door, ushering me inside. The light over the kitchen sink highlighted a tiny but functional room full of warm colors and several plants. Even the terracotta plates lining one wall gave the small area a homey feel. “Who owns this place?”
“I don’t know for certain, but I’ll venture a guess that it belongs to a family member of a friend of mine.”
Everything about this was horrifying.
“Come on. We’ll stay in the living room where I can at least see any vehicle approaching.” He didn’t wait for my answer. I trailed behind him, unable to shake the uneasiness. He’d managed to find a few candles. They were lit, flickering as we walked into the room. I glared at them for a few seconds, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine and lavender. The simple action filled me with sadness. The window flanking the front door was larger than it had appeared, a second one on the side. What few furnishings were there were well worn but everything was neat and tidy.
“You really think they’ll try to hunt us down?” I eased down onto the couch, sitting on the edge, my eyes pinned to the window.
“They have a contract. Unless they finish the job, they won’t get paid.” Jagger yanked one bag onto the coffee table, shoving the small trinkets aside. Unzipping, he pulled out what looked like a semi-automatic, as well as another handgun.
“A contract. A hit man.”
“Likely two.”
I winced every time he checked the ammunition, clicking everything into place. I watched as he positioned the bag just so between the table and the wall, the rifle against the doorjamb, one handgun in the middle of the table. The other I knew would be kept close to his hand.
He darted a single look before moving out of the room. I didn’t try to follow. In his hand was a small but powerful flashlight. This was where we’d stay the entire night. That much I knew instinctively. He could keep an eye on the front and back doors, the short hallway and three windows. I heard his footsteps but only because there were no other sounds in the house. Everything about his demeanor had changed, his actions more like a trained soldier than a businessman or lover. Perhaps I didn’t know him at all.
After dumping an armful of pillows and blankets onto the floor, he pointed. “Get down. If you need to go to the bathroom, you crouch low and stay near the wall.” In tactical mode, he moved to the side window, closing the blinds then took position just to the side of the front window.
I slid onto the floor, arranging the pillows and fluffing the blankets. There was no covering in the house that could take away the cold sweeping through every cell in my body. I concentrated on the flames, praying they would mesmerize and take me to a faraway location. The quiet was deafening, lulling me into a vacuum.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he murmured.
“What am I supposed to say?”
He snorted, his body shifting. “You always ask questions about everything, one of the reasons I adore you.”
Why did the term seem so obligatory? “Well, you’re not going to tell me anything so I’m not wasting the effort.”
“Don’t allow this to change you, jade you in any manner. Promise me that.”
It was my turn to issue a guttural sound. “None of your concern, or at least it won’t be after tomorrow.”
“Do you really think I’m doing this on purpose?”
Normally, given his caustic personality, he would have spit out the question with at least some margin of venom. Tonight, all his words seemed haunted. “I don’t know what to think. You say we’re in danger. I’ll believe you.”
“Ask.”
“Ask what?” My eyes were weary, my head aching, and I was in a foul mood.
“Anything, Lola. I’ll answer.”
“But truthfully is the question.”
Jagger turned his head beseechingly slowly, his eyes locking onto mine.
And suddenly, I felt like the bad little girl all over again, second guessing my master. “Fine. What happened to the woman you cared for, the only woman you learned to love.” I could tell the question threw him and I’d gambled that this had as much to do with shaping the man as his underworld family.
He lifted an eyebrow and scratched his forehead. “Women are far more intuitive than men.”
“You loved her, and she submitted to you. Yes?”
“I believed that I was in love with her, yes, but she never submitted to me. She wasn’t the type. She was powerful, or she was until she was stupid enough to get involved with me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Lola, that she was a prosecuting attorney for the city of Chicago. Yes, I’ve been under investigation for serious crimes more than once. And I can tell you with full honesty that they were fishing. She was the attorney who handled the process.”
I burst into laughter, thinking about all the crime shows I’d seen on television. “You are kidding me.”
“Not in the least. She was brash, intelligent, sophisticated, and I had to have her. We were like dynamite and I found myself falling in love with her.”
“What happened?” The smile on his face was bittersweet, as if the memory was another stab in his heart.
“Do you really want to know the answer?” Jagger leaned his head against the wall.
&
nbsp; “Yeah, I do.”
“She was killed in a car explosion.” He made certain he was watching my reaction.
And I had absolutely no idea what to say.
“I suspect my brother was concerned about our relationship and made the call, so to speak.”
“That’s why you hate your brother so much.”
Jagger nodded, a sneer curling on his lip. “Now, perhaps you understand more fully why I’m concerned about your safety.”
I had to take several deep breaths. “Only to a point, Jagger. When we were at the café, who was the call from and why did it change everything? You’re entirely different. Who called you?”
He offered a slight smile before returning to his duty. “From one of the soldiers in my father’s regime. I’ve known him for years.”
A soldier. Just the way he made the statement made this so much more real.
“As far as why it changed everything. He called to tell me that my father had been murdered, my brother shot, both in an assassination and takeover attempt of the Calduchi organization.”
“Oh, Jagger. I’m so sorry about your father.” I ignored his commands, pushing away from the floor, moving to wrap my arms around his waist. He was stiff, at least at first and he sucked in his breath. The emotions rolling through my mind and my heart were overpowering. Why hadn’t he confided in me? Why couldn’t he allow me to comfort him?
“You know? I thought I didn’t give a shit about my father,” Jagger whispered, his voice breaking up. “But I was wrong.”
“Who did this? Who?”
“The New York syndicate. At least that’s what my father’s attorney believes.” He took a step away, allowing me to nuzzle in the crook of his arm. His body was shaking as he rubbed his hand down the back of my head.
“But you don’t.”
Sniffing, he rubbed his eyes with his other hand. “No. I have my suspicions, but I won’t have them confirmed until I’m back in Chicago.”
“Your brother?” I could hear my heart thumping against my chest.
“He was being taken into surgery when I called earlier. I don’t know at this point.” Jagger shook his head.
