My paranoia goes into full swing as I place a clean glass on the shelf and step into the back room. Mack’s busy lugging some crates of beer up from the basement storeroom. He ignores me when I slip into the office to grab my coat.
Maybe I’m being ridiculous, but I don’t think so. Running was always a risk. No matter how careful I’ve been, I knew one day my husband’s men would find me.
Angelo and I are still married, which makes me a loose end.
If he wants to take another wife, a more cooperative one, I’ll need to sign the divorce papers or conveniently die before wedding number two.
Angelo is no doubt pissed at me for skipping out after our wedding, but my stepmother would have had just as much to lose.
Nobody bothered telling me the nuts and bolts of their deal. All I knew was that big, bad, mafia heir Angelo Di Rossi needed a pliant little wife, and I was on the hook.
Mack is going to have to deal with my leaving early. I’ll spin him some yarn about women’s problems, and no doubt he’ll retch a little, cuss a lot, and we’ll both get over it.
There’s no way I’m sticking around if that guy in there is one of my husband’s sniffer dogs on my trail. The last thing I need is to be hauled back and locked inside a mansion.
The back door squeaks as I slip out, but nobody stops me from leaving. I hustle across the parking lot, wishing for a full moon to dispel the shadows.
I’m almost at the street when someone grabs me around the waist and presses a gun against my temple. The delicious scent of peppery cologne has my nipples perking up under my jacket. Under different circumstances, Mr. Wrong pulling a gun on me would be the sort of foreplay that gets my motor running.
We’d fight, he’d do his best to dominate me, and I’d get off on it.
But I have a feeling this thirst trap isn’t looking to get laid, despite the erection I can feel jutting against my hip.
“Is that another gun in your pocket, or are you excited to see me?” I purr while assessing my options.
Red Flag Guy chuckles. “I like a woman with attitude,” he says. “Pity you’re married to my best friend or I might have let you go.”
“I’m not averse to sharing,” I say. Offering this guy sexual favors in return for him letting me escape would hardly be a chore.
He sighs, sounding regretful. “No can do, sugar.”
I take a moment to mourn what could have been the best night of my life before slamming my head back against his nose. He curses up a storm and tightens his grip around my neck. I struggle harder, but it’s no use. The guy’s got moves, and I’m out of practice.
There’s a sharp pain in my neck before everything goes black.
3
Angelo
The man’s cheekbone cracks when my fist hits him at full throttle. Blood sprays sideways, speckling the cuff of my white shirt. I grimace. I should have worn a black one. Blood spatter is a bitch to get out of white cotton.
The man spits out a wad of pink saliva and stares at me with his one functioning eye. I have to hand it to him; he’s bearing up better than I expected. The guy has balls for sure.
He might not end the night with any, but that’s not my problem. If he refuses to talk, I’ll make this long and painful. And if he gives me what I need, then maybe he’ll suffer a bit less.
“I’m losing patience, Sully.”
He laughs and then coughs up some more blood.
“Fuck you.”
I glance down at his flaccid cock and then arch one eyebrow at him. He must read my intention because he flails around like crazy, but it’s no use. Duct tape is virtually impossible to escape from when one is taped to a metal chair bolted to the floor. Plenty have tried. And all have failed.
“Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll cut off your cock and shove it down your throat.”
Sully’s eyes bulge. I’m done playing games, and he knows it. Shit just got real.
“I don’t know who it was!” he shrieked. “I swear on my mother’s life!”
