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“Wrong answer, Benny.” My fist flies out, and I punch him across his face. The sound of my knuckles hitting his flesh is like music to my ears, and so, I do it again, twice, in quick succession, to see if I can make it sound like a symphony.
Benny’s head falls back, rolling left, then right on his shoulders like a newborn baby.
“I will ask one more time, Benny. Where are Dominic and Federico?” I snarl and get up close and personal to his face, seeing the blood drip from the broken skin on his nose and lips.
“Fuck you, Dante,” he spits out, and all I see is red. It doesn’t happen often; I can count on one hand the number of times in my life where I have really lost my mind. Sure, I will fight. But right now, knowing that those two assholes are out there, hatching a plan to come for us makes my blood boil beyond control.
Like a raging bull, I unleash, all my anger and frustrations come out of my body by way of my fists. I am relentless, my vision blackening, and I only stop when Carter says my name.
“Dante!” Carter shouts, looking at me, breaking me from my trance. “He’s done. He’s dead.” He lets go of Benny, throwing his body onto the gravel where it remains lifeless, just like the other three.
Panting, I wipe my hands on my handkerchief and catch my breath, trying to calm my anger. Nodding to Carter, I look at my men. “Let’s go.” With my emotions once again in check, they follow me back through the club and out the door to the car, like the soldiers they are.
* * *
Stretching out my fingers, I wrap my hand in a towel with ice, then fix myself a whiskey before heading upstairs. All is quiet as I walk into the bedroom. I need to find these brothers and sort this shit out, because I need Little Red out of my house. When I am not thinking about work, I am thinking about her, and the two are starting to blur. That’s a dangerous thing for a man like me. She is a distraction, albeit a very fucking tempting one.
Once Carter searched Little Red's bank records, I learned that she has some money but not a lot. A consistent weekly pay from a local diner was her only income until recently. She has no medical history. None. No police record, not even a parking ticket. There is no car registered in her name and no known living relatives. What I do know is that her mother recently passed away, and when Carter called the trailer park that she has listed as her residential address, they only confirmed that she was living there but recently moved.
But what I am currently too aware of is how she looks like a lazy Sunday morning, all tangled in my sheets, like comfort, desire, and a pool of innocence I want to swim in.
I rub my eyes to erase the thoughts from my mind. I have no plans to keep a woman here. No plans to get involved. The destruction my lying, cheating, drug-addicted ex-wife caused has permanently damaged me too deeply.
Sipping the whiskey, I settle into the armchair, ready for a long night of watching.
“Hey, wolfman,” she breathes out sleepily. I’m startled by the sound of her voice at nearly 2am, but also by the name. Wolfman? Is she dreaming, or is she talking to me?
“Buona sera,” I say as she slowly scoots up, leaning her back against my headboard.
“Buno what?” she asks, yawning, and I don’t miss her legs as they peek out from under the blankets as she gets comfortable again. The sight has me thinking about doing things to her that I have no right to.
“Did you call me Wolfman?” I ask, not responding to her question. I’m too intrigued by why she would call me that.
She blushes a little, catching me off guard, and I decide to let it pass for now.
“Why are you awake?” I ask.
“I think I have had too much sleep these past few days. I am not that tired tonight,” she answers honestly, and my eyes stay on her as I take another sip of my whiskey.
“Why are you awake?” I don’t generally like people questioning me. I answer to Sebastian and Leo, and I will be considerate of Carter, Goldie, and Maria. That is about it, though. Everyone else I hardly even tolerate, but for some reason, speaking with her feels different.
“I just got in.” As her eyes flick to the clock on the wall, her eyebrows raise. She stays quiet for a moment, almost seeming to contemplate her response, but then she surprises me with another question.
“How long will I be trapped in this room?”
“You can leave the room whenever you’d like. You are welcome to use the kitchen, and all living areas. My housekeeper Maria will look after you and can get you anything you need. But I have a team here that secures the place, so you can’t leave the premises. If you do and my enemies find you, they will kill you. I don’t want that on my conscious, Bella.”
The term of endearment leaves my lips before I can stop it. I am having a hard time thinking of anything but her pouty lips showcasing the softest pink and her red hair falling in tendrils around her face.
“How long before it is safe for me to leave the house, then?” she presses, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket by her side.
“Have you got somewhere to be, Little Red?” I ask, tilting my head. We both know she has absolutely nowhere else to be.
Her eyebrows furrow slightly, and she glares at me with clear frustration. It is damn cute.
“The men who we fought with are out to hurt us. I don’t suspect that you are a threat, but because you are with me, they will try to hurt you. Until we can fix the situation, you need to stay here.” I shrug.
She nods, and I can tell by the distant look in her eyes that she is thinking everything over. She is such a good girl for trusting me like this. I run my hands across my mouth to hide the smirk that is forming.
