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Get control of the situation.
“Sure,” I said through gritted teeth, struggling to get my footing, acting as if I was going to comply. I ached from the fall, but at least nothing was broken. As soon as I moved, I heard him laugh, the tone startling. Then I swung around, throwing a hard punch, managing to catch the asshole off guard. Unfortunately, my footing was off, the hit doing little more than pissing him off. I shifted quickly, racing toward the door to the bakery. He snagged my arm, tossing me against the brick wall.
“Well, well. What do we have here? A real bitch. You’re coming with me.” His voice had changed completely, the ominous tone like the one I’d heard on the phone only a few nights before. “Someone needs to talk to you.” His laugh shoved a wave of terror deep into my core.
My instincts had been spot on. The attack had nothing to do with drug money.
This had to do with revenge.
The threats had been real.
Fuck, no, this wasn’t going to happen.
I managed to get off a slight scream before he reacted, the bastard slapping one hand against my mouth, another around my hair. I threw out a second punch. This time I caught him just under the chin, his look of shock quickly turning to one of rage. Someone had followed me from Chicago or worse. Oh, God.
“You’re going to regret that, bitch!” He raised his arm, prepared to strike when there was a blur of activity, a deep growl blasting into the night air a mere second before the perpetrator was dragged away, his body slammed against the brick façade. The man howled until he was tossed against the hard surface several times.
Gasping, I scrambled to get to my feet, folding my arms and backing away.
Mr. Dangerous had come to my rescue. He stood with one hand wrapped around the assailant’s throat, the other already retrieving the asshole’s weapon, tossing it aside. Then he pulled a gun from his pocket, pushing the barrel against the man’s temple.
“Don’t kill him,” I said for no other reason than I wasn’t in the mood to spend the rest of my night dealing with the police. Granted, I didn’t think the sultry savior was the kind to allow the police to interfere, but I wasn’t willing to take that chance. “It’s not worth it. He just needs a fix.” I prayed the asshole would take the bait. Complications I didn’t need, including my father finding out. I could only imagine how he’d turn the city upside down, making both the assailant and my life miserable.
“Drugs are bad for your health,” Mr. Dangerous stated with absolute authority in his voice as he glared at the asshole. Somehow, I could sense he wasn’t buying the excuse.
“Yes, sir. I mean, you’re right, sir.” The asshole grinned before tossing a hateful look in my direction.
Sir. I found it fascinating the perpetrator had lost his nasty tone. Maybe he was afraid of Mr. Dangerous. I let out an angry sound, the pain in my knees finally materializing.
Mr. Dangerous threw me a look, his eyes slanting down toward my feet. Then he turned his full attention to the perpetrator.
“Here’s how we’re going to play this. If I agree to let you live, you will promise never to show your face on my street again. If I even catch a single glimpse of you, just one, I assure you that you won’t like the kind of punishment you receive. Do you fucking understand me?” he stated calmly, with absolutely no emotion.
While the assailant was huge, more than I’d realized, he was no match for the man who’d come to my rescue. The aura around the gorgeous hunk had only increased, giving him a few superpowers on top of his electrifying persona.
I was still frozen, unable to think clearly. In all the years I’d lived in Chicago, I’d never been assaulted nor had my small apartment broken into. Just threatened with bodily harm. I hated the reminder, my inner voice echoing in my head. I remained on edge, woozy as I watched the scene play out in front of me.
After Mr. Dangerous rolled the barrel down the side of the perpetrator’s face, shoving it into the asshole’s mouth, the jerk whined, nodding as much as he could given the situation.
My hero waited for a few seconds to ensure the man meant what he was agreeing to before removing the weapon, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vincheti. I didn’t realize this was your street. I’m so sorry. I’ll never even walk within a block of this place.” The assailant coughed and sputtered, but still managed to throw a leer in my direction.
Mr. Vincheti. Why did that name ring a bell? Exhaling, the pain in my head forced me to close my eyes. My mind was fuzzy, and I loathed the weakness.
At this point, I knew the perp would agree to anything to get out of my hero’s clutches. Who was this guy anyway? As I watched the man’s actions, a cold chill scuttled through me. Whoever he was, he was more than just dangerous.
Wait a minute. Oh, no. I couldn’t have this kind of bad luck. Vincheti. The name lingered in my mind.
He was mafia, a member of one of the most powerful crime syndicates in New York.
I should have caught it right away. That was my job, for God’s sake. I was usually very good at picking out a member of organized crime. I’d been far too attracted to the man to pay any attention to the usual behavior. A wash of anguish in my temple stopped all rational thoughts.
I backed away, almost tripping on the sidewalk before tumbling against the side of the building. Shit. That’s when my legs started to shake, anguish crashing through my temple.
Nothing usually bothered me, at least not physically, but this was… I took several deep breaths, spots appearing in front of my eyes. My legs seemed wobbly, and I pushed my hands against the cold brick, digging my freshly manicured nails into the mortar.
Valentin backed away, letting the asshole go, the gun remaining firmly planted in his hand. I’d been a witness to several crimes, but there was something terribly frightening about this one. At first the asshole acted as if he was going to walk away. Then a quick movement pushed another yelp from my mouth as the creep yanked a second weapon from under his sweatshirt.
