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That lying son of a bitch, Issac thought viciously as he stormed out of the library and his breath formed a cloud in front of his face. It was already colder than it had been last night, and the sun was still fighting to light the evening.
The Italian was leaning against a sports car by the roundabout almost framed in the stone archway of the path like a magazine cover. He was dressed in a gray wool overcoat and a scarf as he turned a small rectangle in his fingers, every bit as sexy and attractive as last night.
Issac suddenly forgot all caution and what he was dealing with as he focused on the card. He didn’t run but stormed over to the dangerous man and snatched at his ID.
The mobster seemed ready for the attempt and jerked his hand up and out of Issac’s reach seconds before his fingers could close around it. “Well, hello to you too, baby boy,” he teased, smirking down at Issac as Issac stood on his toes to reach up.
Issac growled in frustration as his fingers failed to reach the mobster’s wrist, let alone the card and he dropped back to his heels to glare at the man. “What are you doing here,” he hissed. “We had a deal! You got company then were supposed to forget everything.”
“You know, grunge and greaser really don’t go together,” he said, flicking at Issac’s collar with his other hand and then pushing one side down to admire Issac’s throat. “Or are you just trying to hide my handiwork?”
Issac shivered from more than just the cold as the finger brushed against his skin, feeling his face burn as he stared into the smiling face of a man unfairly attractive. “Why are you here,” he breathed, his heart lodged in his throat. This couldn’t be about sex. The sex might have been mind-blowing for Issac but there was no way someone like him felt the same way. Issac wasn’t deluded enough to think he was that good of a fuck.
“You left in such a hurry, we didn’t have time to talk,” he said, still tracing his finger over each bite and bruise like it was a map. “You didn’t so much as glance in my direction.” He stuck out his bottom lip, something mocking in the expression as he pushed Issac’s chin higher with one finger. “I was rather hurt. Not so much as a goodbye kiss.”
“I-I have early lectures,” Issac said, hating how he stammered and yearned to lean in to give him that kiss now.
“I know,” he said, wrapping his fingers around Issac’s chin as he pushed off his car. “And I know you are done with them now. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me,” Issac repeated, sure the Italian could hear his pounding heart. “Why?”
“You’re going to come with me for a ride,” he purred and smiled as blood drained back out of Issac’s face. “Don’t worry, baby boy. I intend on keeping you around for a long time. Come with me and we’ll make just a few stops while you hear me out. There’s dinner in it for you.”
Issac’s stomach growled and he flushed again as the man chuckled softly, lowering his face to Issac’s.
“Cat,” Dimitri shouted from behind them, making Issac jump. “Let go of him!”
The Italian’s hazel eyes turned to stone as his head snapped up. “Mind your own business, Little Volkov,” he shouted back.
Issac looked back to see Dimitri standing ten feet away near the archway with his phone tight in his hand.
“I said, let go of him,” Dimitri commanded again, the screen lighting up.
The Italian’s laugh made the hair on the back of Issac’s neck stand up. “Calling big brother,” he mocked, shoes scraping against the ground as if he was going to step around Issac. “Do you think I can’t teach you a lesson before he gets here?”
Issac should have let the two of them go at each other. Letting them fight each other would give him plenty of time to walk away and figure out how he was going to deal with this. Dimitri knowing the man confirmed his ties to the Italian and Russian Mafia and for the first time, he felt a genuine fear of those ties. If he was smart he’d just leave and go find a shelter. Usually, he was smart. Today, he stepped with the Italian- Cat- as he put his hands on his chest. “Let’s go,” he said, looking up at the man to see his surprise at being stopped. “Right now.” He raised his voice without looking back. “Dimitri, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Issac,” Dimitri said, his boots scuffing against the concrete but not coming any closer.
Cat took Issac’s backpack with very little effort as he turned to the car. “You heard him, Dimitri,” he called to the Russian, opening the door for Issac. “See you tomorrow.”
I have lost my mind,Issac thought as he slid into a leather seat that probably cost more than his entire degree. Completely and utterly lost his mind. Nothing about this was a good idea and he wasn’t one to be a hero. Protecting Dimitri from getting his ass kicked or worse by a man he was picking a fight with wasn’t something he normally would do. He shouldn’t even be in this mess. He should have left the Three Rings when he got out of high school or maybe his bachelor’s degree. But he had been too damn stubborn and convinced that it was better to stick near the land he knew than risk going into unknown territory. He should have run long ago but he had thought he was smarter.
Cat didn’t say anything as he got into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot with the purr of an engine far more powerful than anything Issac had ever experienced.
For a while, they both sat in complete silence, Cat changing lanes with the speed and skill of a race car driver. Issac wondered how fast Adrian, Dimitri’s older brother, could scramble people to go after the Italian and if he had just traded a fistfight for a high-speed chase. The thought was enough that he considered his chances of bailing out of the moving car as they crossed the invisible borders.
“What is Cat short for,” he asked after ten minutes of them changing lanes and turning corners, keeping his eyes forward as he gripped his seatbelt.
He could just see the head twitch in his direction before it focused forward again for another lane change and Cat chuckled softly. “It’s not,” he said, sounding amused. “It’s the nickname my boss gave me after I made myself extremely useful to him and the Family. They call me Il Gatto, but the Russians butcher Italian so much they usually translate it to English. The ‘the’ just gets dropped when they talk to me directly.”
Issac made a noise in his throat that he hoped sounded uninterested. “So what is your name,” he asked. “Only seems fair I should know yours since you snooped through my things and found mine.”
Cat laughed again. “I would have thought you of all people would know life isn’t fair, ‘Jacob,’” he said mockingly, making Issac’s stomach clench with sudden fear. “But,” he continued, “since we’ll be spending a lot of time together, I suppose you should know. It’s Felinus. Felinus Drago.”
Issac swallowed. “Why would we be doing that? I don’t have time for anything except school.”
