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“Angel, we’re going to get you home, make no fucking mistake about that. When we do, you won’t ever have to worry about that sorry piece of crap for a father you have ever again. You will lay on my bed, offer yourself up to me, and I’ll fuck you until you’re screaming my name,” I say, still caressing her neck with my fingers.
She nods, her pulse throbbing, leaning into my neck, nuzzling me, and it’s at that exact time that I hear my team back on the headset. Thank fuck! “A garbage truck will be heading across the alleyway, one street up in front of the limo. As soon as it blocks the limo’s view, get to the alley in front of you and take a right. We’re waiting for you,” Nick says into my headset.
“Roger that,” I say, pulling Sasha into a crouching position with me, watching as a huge green and gold garbage truck begins to lumber across the alleyway right in front of us and stops to pick up a dumpster, emptying its contents into the back of the truck.
“Go, go, go,” Nick yells.
As soon as I hear the instruction, I move, pulling Sasha with me. I trust Nick, and my entire security team has taken every precaution necessary to ensure Sasha and I make it across that alley and we’ll get out of this goddamn mess alive.
I have a tight grip on her hand, propelling her forward, but with the first round of gunshot spray under the truck, I pick her up, keeping her protected as the resounding shots of my men fire back in response.
“You okay, Angel?” I ask once we’re around the corner, caressing the creamy skin of her ear and nuzzling into the softness of her long blonde hair as I press her tightly against me before setting her down.
“I’m good, Jay,” Sasha says softly.
“As soon as we get the all clear, we need to move one more block, Angel. We need to get to the alley on the right. We’ll have a cover, but I need you to move fast. Can you do that?” I ask.
“I can move as fast as you need me to,” she says breathlessly, and I feel bad that my entire weight is crushing her body against the wall to the point that I can barely make out her response, but she’s safe, and that’s all I fucking care about.
“Good girl. You do exactly what I ask when I tell you to. Ready when we get the green light, Angel?” I ask against the delicate shell of her ear.
“Tell me what to do and when,” Sasha says, sending a surge of pride through me that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. My Angel’s so fucking up to any challenge. She’s dealt with so much shit in her life, but today when I give her instruction, she not only obeys but propels herself forward.
“Let’s move, Angel,” I say, wrapping my arms around her, guiding her behind the truck and into the alleyway. We make our way slowly down the dark path and have barely gotten to the alley when more sprays erupt. I knew they were coming and I have her tucked into my arms to keep her safeguarded.
“One, two, three,” I hear in my headset, letting me know they’ve taken out the danger. As soon as we reach the back door, it’s thrown open, and I push Sasha inside. Once we’re tucked safely into the back seat, the door closes and our driver peels away.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath. Fuck that was close. My angel’s safe, but if she ever pulls another stunt like this again she’s not going to be able to sit down for a week. Right now I just need to calm my own fucking heartbeat which was beating a mile a minute knowing that she was in danger.
I pull Sasha’s slight body against mine, hugging her tightly to me, intending to buckle her seatbelt and comfort her, running my hand against her neck, the one I want to kiss and lick, creating a different sense of pleasure that she won’t be able to ignore.
“Sasha?” I say, but she doesn’t respond, and this time she’s not looking down with that little submissive thing she does. All of a sudden I feel her rigidness and the lack of her breath on my skin.
“Answer me, Angel,” I say, turning to her, sliding my hand to her nape, lifting her to me so I can look into her eyes, the ones that were once full of life and delight and when I shake her, trying desperately to make her answer me my entire body turns cold.
I run my hands over her, a quick assessment, relieved to find her breathing, and just merely overcome. “Angel, wake up,” I say, grasping her creamy nape in my hands, bringing her closer to me.
My heart almost stopped when I couldn’t feel her pulse, thinking that she may have taken a hit. The day’s events have been too much, and panic and anxiety have overtaken her to the point of shut down. One quick message to our doc and I do what he instructs, injecting her with a minimal amount of a routine sedative sometimes needed in our line of work, just enough to relax and put her out for a while. There is no reason for her to be part of what we do next so I have my team pick her up, kissing her forehead as I lift her and transport her into their car and close the door.
I watch on the cam as my security team takes Sasha to my condo, glad to see that Celia has arrived as planned. She greets my men who carry Sasha to my bedroom where I’ve instructed them to place her. They leave her there after conversing with Celia, who assures them that she’ll take care of her. Fuck if I don’t want to be right there taking care of her myself instead of dealing with this shit, but Matt’s life is on the line, and this is the way it has to be for now.
“How much longer?” I ask the driver of the limo, who has slowed at a light. Our team is ready, moving into place around the inner-city bar where we know Matt is being held. I don’t fucking trust Bernatelli. He said it himself. Matt knew too much about his operations, and based on the fact that he couldn’t assure me that it wasn’t too late, Matt’s in a world of hurt. I send a group message to the security leads to close in quick.
I get a text from one of our team members who’s slipped into the bar at the address Sasha provided. “Matt just got brought up in cuffs with a girl. He looks rough but alive. A team of four with heavy fucking firepower on him. Not sure where they’re taking him.”
I fucking knew I couldn’t trust Bernatelli. If he had given the order to release Matt, his posse wouldn’t be transporting him somewhere else. I send a message to my team to surround the bar. Another communication comes in from our undercover at the tavern, and it makes me smile.
Matt just caved in some faces so some girl can get free, but they’ve overpowered him. They’re marching him toward the back-alley door now.
I send a message to one of the teams poised at the alley in case we need backup. “Girl will be coming out of the bar. Follow her and protect her.” The driver pulls up at the back entrance after receiving another text that they’re dragging Matt toward the door. I fire off messages to my team, and when those fuckers walk out of their protected space, I give them a chance to lay down their weapons, and they don’t, so my boys take them out. Four clear rifle shots, four prominent Chicago Mafia boys and four exact hits that render them dead as fuck. One is left standing, the one that’s holding Matt with a gun aimed at his head.
“Bernatelli wants to call off the hit,” I say, knowing that the person with his gun to Matt’s head is one of the Bernatelli Family. A made man and if I had to guess will be taking over for Nikko until he gets out of prison.
“I didn’t get that fucking message,” the guy says.
“We can do this one of two ways. You walk away, take a message back to your boss, and let him know what happened, or I can have your dead body packed up along with the other fuckers and send him that message myself,” I say.
“Your boy will go down, and Bernatelli will kill you nice and slow,” he snarls.
