AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m starting to regret this little meeting. “You know what, I don’t have time for this. Do your job, alright? I’ll do mine.”
“Fine with me.” If I’ve offended him, he doesn’t show it, but then he’s not easily offended. We can’t be while working as closely as we do. There’s a time when a man needs to put petty disagreements aside for the sake of the family, and this qualifies as such a time. He stands, nodding to me before walking to the door.
But instead of leaving immediately, he fires one last shot over his shoulder. “It might be a good idea to get her out of here. Stash her someplace until business picks up again.”
“That’s my business,” I remind him, turning back toward the dark, cold hearth. “You just take care of what I’ve given you.”
“You got it.” The way he says it, it might as well be It’s your funeral.
The way it was for the old man.
A shudder runs through me and I finally allow myself to relax now that I’m alone. My shoulders sink back down to their normal position—I didn’t notice until now how I’d hunched them around my ears. I touch my forehead to my arm, propped against the mantle. “What do I do now, Dad?” I whisper into the otherwise silent room. There’s no answer. There hasn’t been for more than a year.
Yet I still feel him around here. There are still fleeting moments when I’d swear I smell cigar smoke. I hated those fucking things the way the rest of the family did, but he gleefully smoked them, anyway. Probably to spite us, come to think of it. Nobody told him what to do. Not even his wife, his son.
I can’t help smiling. The stubborn bastard.
So stubborn, he walked into a war that got him killed. So sure he could convince Frank Bernardi and his psychotic sons to maintain the peace. He believed that until the very end. Until one of Bernardi’s guys picked a fight that ended everything.
Is Jock right? Am I making the same mistakes my old man did? I don’t particularly want to die. Not yet. I could be setting myself up for assassination as I stand here, mulling things over. An attempt, at the very least. But that possibility always hangs over my head. One of the drawbacks of this line of work.
If it means letting Bernardi and his crew get away with what they’ve done—what I’m almost sure they’ve done, lacking solid proof—then no, I refuse to tiptoe around. He fired a shot? He’s about to know what it feels like to have a cannonball land on his head. I was willing to keep the peace we negotiated. He changed his mind. That’s not on me.
Of all the times for a distraction like Delilah to show up.
Jock’s right. Would I rather bite off my tongue than admit it out loud? Yes. But he’s still right. I should get her out of here. There’s too much going on. Dead soldiers. Dead so-called friends. The fire that will surely be set within the next day or two. The message it will send.
The last thing I need is a pair of tits distracting me. And that mouth of hers… I had no hope of hanging on longer than I managed, not with her sucking like her life depended on it. Which, come to think of it, isn’t far from the truth. The fact that the most action I’d seen in ages was my right hand didn’t help matters, either.
She could be trouble. Even now, standing at the brink of what could become another costly war, my dick twitches at the memory of her head bobbing up and down. The feel of her hair between my fingers. The way she moaned around me and sent vibrations buzzing through my balls.
I’ve got to get a hold of myself, that’s all. One thing I was raised with was discipline. Having her here might mean being able to keep my head clear, come to think of it. There’s nothing like a good, hard fuck to put things in perspective. That’s one thing I’ll need if I hope to bring the family out of this conflict in one piece.
If only I could believe my own rationalizations.
Chapter Eight - Delilah
The last thing I expected to do last night was sleep well.
Sure, the bed is enormous and feels like sleeping on a cloud. And sure, there was no noise coming from the apartments on either side, the ones above and below me. No babies screaming, no fighting, no wild sex loud enough to make me bang on the wall and beg them to quiet down.
With everything on my mind, I expected to be up all night. Wondering. Worrying. What’s Deanna doing? Is she alright? Did she make it to my place safely?
Instead of staring at the ceiling for hours, I dropped off almost immediately. I must have. I hardly remember my head hitting the pillow. And now that I’m awake, I check the time. My eyes almost fall out of my head when I see it’s been ten hours since I changed into a pair of pajamas that could belong to just about anybody and climbed into bed. I must have needed it. I can’t remember the last time I slept more than five or at most six hours a night.
I throw my arms over my head and stretch, groaning softly. I guess I never understood the difference between a good bed and the piece of lumpy crap I’ve been sleeping on. I mean, on some level, I knew there had to be a difference, but a bed like this is way beyond my price point.
At least now my head is clearer than it was yesterday. I need it to be.
As much as I would love to drop back down onto the pillows and burrow under this ridiculously thick blanket, I can’t run away from this problem. I need to face it head-on. Whatever effect I had on Luca last night can’t last forever. I’m sure he’s right back to his normal disgusting self this morning. And while I pleased him last night, he’s not going to stop at a simple blowjob. I have to be prepared.
And I have to find a way to get the hell out of here at the first opportunity. This whole situation with the brothel is a temporary thing. Business will start up again, and the next thing I know I’ll be sent off to whatever location they choose. And that will be it. I’m not stupid. They must keep those girls under lock and key to make sure they can’t get away.
And I doubt I’d be sleeping in a bed like this. I doubt I’d be able to make a single choice for myself. Damn Greg for giving them my sister’s information. I’d kill him with my bare hands if he was in front of me right now.
But thinking about him is a waste of time. I need to stay in the present moment, which means getting out of bed before the temptation to lie back down is too much to resist. Rather than soak in the tub, I take a quick, cool shower. Even that’s an experience. It takes me a few minutes just to figure out how to work everything. The multiple shower heads positioned around the stall hit me from all sides. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so clean.
It’s not only formal clothes they store in this room. Inside the closet are rows of drawers, too, holding an array of casual pieces. Jeans, sweats, t-shirts, sweaters. “Where the hell did this all come from?” I mutter as I pull things out, checking the sizes to see what will fit me. I settle on a sleeveless cowlneck tunic that’s so soft and light it practically floats around me. The jeans fit well enough, even if they’re a little big around the waist, and I finish by putting on my sneakers. I need at least a little piece of myself—plus, if I see an opening, they’ll make it easier to run.
