by Sienna Blake
While I was just a game he hadn’t won yet. If I gave in to him, he’d soon get bored. Like he’d gotten bored with all the other women he’d been with. All it would take for him would be to fuck me out of his system.
“Get out,” I hissed, my voice low and deadly.
He pulled back, frowning at me. “You’re angry with me.”
“You come into my house, proposition me for sex,” I said, my voice growing louder. “And you have the nerve to look confused as to why I’m upset? I am not one of your party whores.”
He winced. “You make it sound so sordid.”
“Really? How would you put it?”
“An agreement between two consenting adults.”
“Get out. Get the fuck out.”
“You have to understand why I can’t offer you anything…more,” he said quietly.
“Who said I wanted more?” I snapped, his words already finding their mark in my heart. Of course he would never want anything more from me than just sex. Bastard. I shoved him back with all the strength of my anger.
He let me go. For the first time in the last ten minutes I felt like I could breathe properly. I felt like I could think. I almost did a stupid, stupid thing saying “yes” to him. I grabbed my gun and yanked open my door, holding it open for him to let him know this conversation was over.
He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk back on his face. “So that means you’ll think about it?”
“How’s this for my answer.” I pointed my gun at his dick, still hard through his jeans. “If I see you here again, that’s where I’ll shoot you.”
10
____________
Julianna
I slammed the door behind Roman and slumped against it. What the hell had just happened?
Roman Tyrell, mobster prince, possible murderer, definite criminal, propositioned me for sex. That’s what happened.
And I said no.
Damn right, I said no. Roman and I could never have just sex. We were too intense, too much fire and lightning, too much under each other’s skin. He was daring me to come out of the shelter and dance to the beat of our thunder. I wasn’t sure I’d live through it.
Even if we did admit that we wanted to be together, our circumstances, our families, this city would never let us. Our attraction was hopeless. Pointless. That’s why I said no. To give in was futile. We could never be anything real. No matter how much I wanted it.
My heart ached in my chest. Despite the logical arguments against us, hope still fluttered in my soul. I wanted to go after him, to tell him I made a mistake in kicking him out. But my feet were concrete, weighed down by the bog of how we could ever conceive to be together.
Yes. No.
Right. Wrong.
God, I was a mess.
A knock on my door jolted me out of my thoughts. Oh God. He was back. The arrogant man.
I swung open the door, gun pointed. “What do you—?”
It wasn’t Roman. It was Nora standing there. She looked at me, my gun, then raised an eyebrow. “You going to let me in, honey? Or are we going to talk about that sexy young man who was just in your apartment out here for all the neighbors to listen in on?”
I let her in, locking the door behind us. When I turned around Nora was watching me with those light brown eyes of hers. Age may have wrinkled her face and shrunk her body, but her eyes were still young and full of life. They didn’t miss a damn thing.
“You shouldn’t have let him into your apartment,” I said, my voice a little hard. Nora followed me into the kitchen. I slid the gun onto my counter and started the kettle. It was a well-worn habit with the two of us. She always said she liked her coffee like she liked her men: strong, rich and black.
Nora settled on one of my bar stools on the other side of my kitchen bench. “Roman said he was a friend of yours.”
I wasn’t about to let Nora know the details of who Roman was. I didn’t want to scare her.
Maybe she needed to be scared a little bit. What if it had been someone worse than Roman who she’d let into her apartment? “Just because someone says they’re my friend doesn’t mean it’s true. You know, ‘stranger danger’ and all that?”
Nora snorted. “I’ve been around long enough to know who’s dangerous and who isn’t.”
My eyes almost bugged out of my head. Was she for real? She didn’t think Roman Tyrell was dangerous?
Nora tilted her head at me. “By the way you were waving that gun around I take it you two didn’t kiss and make up.”
“No.” He was an asshole. There was no apology for that.
“Are you telling me that you and he aren’t…” Nora wiggled her perfectly-groomed silver eyebrows.
My mind went back to the few minutes that Roman had me against the door. My cheeks flamed. “No.”
The smile widened on her face. Her eyes took on that sparkle of glee whenever she ferreted out a new piece of gossip. “But you want to. You,” she wiggled a manicured finger at me, “like him.”
“I do not.”
“Oh, please. I can see the way you two look at each other. As if you’re already tearing each other’s clothes off in your heads. It’s downright indecent.” She fanned herself. “And hot as hell.”
“He’s dangerous, Nora. Don’t ever let him in again.”
She grinned. “The hot ones usually are.”
I let out a growl of exasperation. There was no convincing her otherwise when she had her head set on something.
Her eyes widened, a look of realization coming over her features. “Smack me down. He was the one who asked you to go to Paris with him!”
Dammit. What should I tell her? I couldn’t admit Roman was the Paris guy or she’d never let it go. I couldn’t tell her he was a friggin’ gangster or she’d be scared out of her mind. Actually, she’d probably be turned on as hell and push me even further towards him. I realized my mouth was flapping open like a fish. I slammed it shut.
Nora nodded. “Hot, charming, dangerous and loaded enough to take you first class to Paris. Why the hell haven’t you jumped all over that? I’ll take him if you don’t want him.”
I cursed inwardly as I slammed down two cups and spooned in coffee. “It doesn’t matter whether he was or wasn’t the Paris guy, nothing can ever happen between us again.”
Nora crossed her arms over her chest, a frown beginning to form on her face. “Are you really that set on keeping yourself unhappy?”
I sighed and poured the hot water into the cups. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t.”
“Is he married?”
“No.”
“Gay?”
I laughed snorted. “Definitely not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I stirred our coffees as I debated how to answer this question. I settled with, “It’s complicated.”
“It always is.” Nora took the cup I handed her and placed her other hand on my arm. “Take it from a woman who’s lived twice as long as you have, ‘the course of true love never did run smooth’.”
* * *
The next few days dragged. Every time my phone rang I half expected it to be Roman, making some inappropriate flirty comment as if nothing had happened. When I came home at night, I half expected Roman to be waiting for me in my apartment. Each time he wasn’t there, my heart sank lower and lower. Until I almost regretted kicking him out of my apartment. Almost.
Things at work seemed to have quieted down for now. Quiet enough that I was stuck doing paperwork. Which made me nervous. The ruling families, including the Tyrells, seemed to have been very quiet lately, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm. We had yet to see the full retaliation for Jacob Tyrell’s murder. One of the sources on the street claimed a truce between the Tyrells and the Veronesis had been negotiated. I suspected the war was coming. Giovanni Tyrell was not one to back away. And he was not one for truces.
Early one morning, as I walked the short distance from my car to the station, I
felt a strange tingling on the back of my neck. Roman? I spun, glancing around the street, looking to find the pair of eyes that was trained on me. I startled a passerby, who weaved around me before continuing on his way. I peered into every doorway, every street corner, every shadow. As far as I could see there was no one.
When I left work that evening—the sun had set, the only light drifting down from streetlights, the law-abiding workers retired to their homes, the ones that remained had shifty-eyes, scanning for trouble—I felt that feeling again. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I walked through the shadows to my car. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was watching.
Roman?
He hadn’t given up on me. He hadn’t let go. A small relief bubbled up inside me. I had the urge to call out to him, to let him know I was watching. I didn’t. I licked my lips, which had gone dry at the knowledge of his eyes on me. And sent a hopeful look into the dark. Please talk to me, I threw out into the night. Don’t let this be over.
I walked slowly to my car, willing him to show himself. I kept glancing into my rearview mirror as I drove home, looking for him tailing me. I felt him. But I didn’t see him.
After dropping off my work things and showering, I had dinner at my father’s place. My father didn’t cook. We ate Thai carry-out from white cardboard cartons with cheap wooden chopsticks on his couch because his dining table was covered in work files. I chewed on too-soft pad Thai and listened to him ranting after I told him we still had no evidence linking anyone to Vinnie Torrito’s murder.
“Those damn Tyrells. They think they run this town.” My father’s face reddened as he spoke, his chopsticks holding a piece of pork waving about, scattering rice everywhere. “They’re so damn arrogant, flaunting the law thinking they’re too smart to get caught. One of these days their arrogance will cause them to make a mistake, then…I’ll get them. We just need one to turn and we’ll get them all.”
I wanted to argue for Roman, that he didn’t really want to be involved with his family’s business. “Surely not all the Tyrells are like that,” I said carefully.
My father gave me an incredulous look. “Are you that naïve, Julu? Of course they all are. They’re bred from birth to be monsters. I won’t rest until every single one of them is behind bars.”
I bit back the urge to argue with him—what happened to innocent until proven guilty? I had an odd feeling like…like I was betraying Roman by staying silent about the accusations against him.
Whose side are you on, Julianna? Your father’s or Roman Tyrell’s?
My father studied my face. “You think I’m wrong, don’t you?”
I said nothing but my lips pinched in answer.
He mopped his forehead with a napkin. “When your mother died,” his voice choked on the word, “I made a vow that I wouldn’t stop until every single piece of scum was locked up. I vowed that no other family would have to go through what we did.” His face had turned a shade of red, his breathing gone heavy. “So far I’ve failed. Now that I’m chief, I have a real chance to make a difference.”
I understood now. All his late nights and weekends at work, his obsession with locking up the Tyrell family. He was on a crusade in my mother’s honor. He had turned himself into a weapon to fight crime. My thoughts flashed to Roman Tyrell again. What if that weapon aimed at someone innocent?
It was late by the time I returned home. There was only a small parking lot for my apartment building. It was first come, first served—the price you paid for inner city living. Tonight, it was full—not surprising for a Friday night—so I had to park a few blocks away. A single streetlight dribbled a pool of sickly light onto the gritty pavement as I locked my car, tucked my keys and phone into my pocket. I was tired and confused, my insides warring with each other about my father and Roman.
“Spare change, miss?”
A figure hunched over limped towards me, a hood covering his face.
“Sorry,” I said and began to turn away.
He let out a small moan and bent over, almost collapsing. Was he sick or just drunk? Either way, I couldn’t just leave him.
“Hey, are you okay?” I lunged towards him, my arms out in case he fell.
An arm grabbed me from behind and a hand clamped down on my mouth, hot, stale breath curdling the air over my left shoulder. I reacted without thinking, all my training kicking in. Keeping my elbow close to my body, I jabbed my thumb back over my left shoulder. I felt the soft give of his eye. He let out a scream and leaned back out of instinct. At the same time, I tucked my body around, away from the elbow of the arm that clasped my mouth, causing his hand to slide off me, leaving him wide open. I slammed the heel of my left hand into his balls. He made a wheezing noise, letting go of me as he bent over himself. I slammed my heel down on his instep and snapped an elbow to his bulbous nose, hearing a satisfying crack. He let out a scream. That’ll teach him to pick on someone his own size.
The click of a gun being cocked back made the blood freeze in my veins. The “homeless” man straightened, holding a pistol out in front of him. I realized then he had been a ruse. These two had been working together.
“Freeze or I’ll shoot.” I didn’t recognize his voice. Or at least, I didn’t think so. I assessed the man standing in front of me—his face hidden in the shadows of his hood—then the barrel of his gun. Even if he wasn’t a crack shot I was too close for him to miss. I gritted my teeth and lifted my hands up in surrender. I had to pick my battles. Bide my time.
The countless homicide scenes, lifeless women with their clothes torn and underwear missing flashed through my mind. I shoved those images aside. They probably just wanted my wallet. Losing a few hundred dollars in cash was better than ending up dead. “You want my wallet? Just take it.”
The man with the gun laughed. “It’s not your wallet we want.”
A shiver of fear went through me.
The guy behind me moaned. “Bitch broke my nose.” He grabbed me and spun me. His fist clocked me in the chin. Pain burst through my head as I stumbled back. I landed hard on my wrists, my knees bruising. My head spun from the punch. I scrambled away. I didn’t get very far. Bloody Nose grabbed me and shoved me onto my back. He slammed his body down on me, pinning me down. His hips digging painfully into my lower belly. Bile rose in my throat from his heavy, unwanted weight on me. I could smell the sourness of his breath.
He grinned, showing off the blood staining his crooked teeth and over his cracked lips. “We should have a bit of fun with her before we take her to the boss.”
The boss? This was not a random attack. Someone had sent these two after me, specifically. They had been the ones watching me earlier, not Roman.
His forearm jammed into my throat cutting off my oxygen. He jammed his knee between my legs and his beefy rough hand thrust between my legs, tearing at my skirt. I tried to scream but all I managed to get out was a choked cry. Any trace of humanity had fled from his uneven bug-eyes. I shoved, scratched, beat, yanked at his forearm to no avail. Air. I needed air.
“Hold her down,” Bloody Nose said.
The man with a gun slipped it into the back of his pants as he strode towards me. I heard chuckling as he crouched over me. He grabbed my arms and yanked them above my head, stretching me out like I was on a torture rack. I was exposed. Bloody Nose tore at my panties, his dirty fingernails scraping my skin. Panic slammed against my ribcage. I kicked out. I tried to scream. My struggling only seemed to please him, only served to grind more dirt into me from the gritty ground.
My jaw throbbed. My lungs felt raw from clawing for air. Stars sparkled in front of my vision. I was losing consciousness. At least I would not be awake while they took turns violating me.
Suddenly his forearm was gone. I sucked in air into my burning lungs. He was gone. He’d been pulled off me by a third man, his wide frame encased in a black Everclear hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and dark jeans. Everclear smashed his fist in Bloody Nose’s face as he roared. “Nobo
dy touches her, you son of a bitch.”
The familiar voice sank into my bones and hit me in my gut.
Roman?
Relief flooded my body. I had never been so damn happy to see anybody before.
I heard the crack of bones and Bloody Nose went limp. He fell to the ground, lifeless.
The man holding my arms down let go of me, fumbling for the gun in the back of his pants as Roman charged towards him, knocking him off his feet. They tumbled to the ground. Roman pinned my attacker down. He smashed his fist into Gun Man’s face and ribs, the sound of hard flesh against wet bloody flesh and the crack of bones filled the air. All of Roman’s calm, cold facade had gone. The leash he kept on this part of himself had been unchained. Dear God, he wasn’t going to stop.
I rolled to my feet, wincing at my bruises, and ran over to him. “Stop it, Roman, you’re going to kill him.” I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. It was like trying to yank back an oak branch.
He whipped around to me and leapt to his feet, leaving the man a bloodied mess on the ground. Roman’s hoodie fell around his neck so I could see his face now, thick lips pulled back, teeth bared, eyes wild, flecks of blood splattered across his sharp cheekbones. “They were going to rape you.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m fine. Just a bruise or two.”
His wild aggressiveness should scare me. His ability for violence should have me scurrying back. For some stupid reason I wanted to lean closer, mesmerized by the heaving of his thick chest and the way his clenched fists were making his forearm muscles stand out in brutal definition.
Roman stepped right up to me and cupped my cheek. His touch was gentle yet firm, the warmth sending a shiver up my spine. I could smell his familiar cedar cologne mixed in with masculine sweat. He tilted up my head to inspect the damage to my jaw. “The fucker,” he muttered under his breath. “I could kill him.”