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Fuck! If the Chicago family think she’s dealing in their turf without consent, she has a death sentence on her head, and the slaps to her face and even the split lip aren’t anything compared to what they would generally dole out. It just doesn’t add up. They would want an answer, would obtain it quickly and painfully, get rid of her and go after the gang infiltrating their market.
“Princess, I asked you for the truth. Lies will get you nothing but thrown over my lap and keep you in danger.”
“I’m telling you the truth! I was with a friend, just happened to have some product on me, and they sniffed me out. It was personal, I wasn’t dealing.”
I assess her carefully. Marenah’s eyes are bright as the sky, her skin is pale and alabaster underneath the abuse she has sustained, and I know she’s lying. She’s not a user, and if they’ve already interrogated her, they know that, too.
“The mafia may have orders to move me. If we’re lucky, they don’t want the people looking for me to find you either. They have no choice but to take us upstairs and when they do, there will be a distraction. When it happens, you run and get as far away from here as you can, understand?” I say, just as I hear a key in the door.
“I need an answer, Marenah, because I plan to find you and lick your hot little pussy for lying to me when all this is over,” I say.
She swings her face back to look at me, and I am rewarded with an upward turn of her lips, but she cringes in pain as they part with an attempted smile. Her full and luscious lips, marred and painful by a blow she’s received, are still stained with her dried blood. My eyes have adjusted to the dimness of the room. The marks on her face are in outlines of a handprint, and when our captors both walk back into the room, those are the images that are seared into my mind.
Dirk and his burly sidekick unlock our chains and cuffs, replacing them in the front and frog-marching us out of the room and up the stairs. As the door upstairs opens, I survey the surroundings. “Remember what I said,” I whisper into Marenah’s ear as our captors are joined by two more men and they march us down the hall and into the bar. I see one of our own sitting on one of the stools pretending to nurse his drink. I know at that very moment that Jay’s got the entire building surrounded and has an extraction strategy. He and our team would never put a plan into place that is not thoroughly thought out.
As if on cue, a bottle shatters onto the floor and cussing from the bar ensues. I use that diversion to kick the largest of the two assailants in the balls, catching him with my steel-toed boots. He goes down, clutching himself, and I send another thrust into his face, spinning as Dirk comes after me. I pull my arms down and rotate, squeezing, sucking the life out of him as the steel cuffs he’s placed me in now become the weapon that overcomes him.
The Chicago Mafia wasn’t prepared for an attempted breakout, but I was, and as the men come for me, I systematically take them out, breaking one man’s nose, turning and landing another with a solid kick to the groin, and the last one with a well-placed stomp of my boot to his throat. They’ll live and it won’t take them long to regain their bearings.
Two more men come from the door and Marenah spins, sending her heeled boot into a man’s nose, and kneeing him in the groin before spinning to grab the other man’s hair, using it to bring him down on top of her knee, effectively breaking his nose. I move in and knock them unconscious with a couple of well-placed blows, using my cuffed hands to form a club.
The entire bar is swarming with these fuckers! Two more men come at us from the back room. “Do what I said and get the fuck out of here,” I tell her and she looks around, hesitating, but when I growl at her to go again, she does exactly as I’ve instructed and heads straight out the door as I overtake the next two men and no more appear to be coming out of the woodwork.
I get the nod from our man sitting at the bar, gesturing to the bartender. I stalk toward him. He’s no longer serving drinks, but watching with undisguised interest. I grab him around the throat just as he reaches underneath the bar, grasping his hand before he can connect with the gun he undoubtedly has and he freezes.
I lean in close. “You put up a half-fight, I walk away, and the people you work for don’t know you didn’t try. Anything else and you’re dead,” I say, clocking him in the mouth.
He sways with the hit, knows they’re watching on the camera and gets back onto his feet. I have no desire to kill a man working for a living, and let him come at me, making sure it’s believable.
I duck his half-hearted attempt, but this needs to be real if he’s going to walk out of here alive. The first double-handed blow sends my fists across his mouth, and then his throat. He goes down gasping, but he’ll live to see another day. I look up and am suddenly surrounded by four mafia men and feel the very distinct cold steel of a gun placed to my head.
They march me out the back-alley door and I exhale a breath of relief as Jay and our team surrounds the assholes who came after me from the bar, but it doesn’t seem like the men are going to back down quickly. They circle, five in total and although Jay gives them warning to walk away, they don’t take it. Instead, they engage their weapons and in four clear shots, my team take the four prominent Chicago Mafia boys out. Only one is left standing, and that’s the fucker with a gun to my head.
“Bernatelli wants to call off the hit,” Jay says, knowing that the person with his gun to my head is a made man in the Bernatelli family. The very same man that will be taking over for Nikko, the family enforcer, 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 can 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,” Jay says.
“Your boy will go down, and Bernatelli will kill you nice and slow,” he snarls.
“My sniper’s just waiting for your finger to move a hair and it’s all over for you. You really wanna wager on his aim?” Jay says, glancing at the four dead men lying on the ground.
“I didn’t get no message,” he says.
“I believe you. Drop the gun and walk away. I’m done talking,” Jay says.
“Fuck!” he yells, dropping his gun to the ground. Jay might have told him that he would let him walk away, but the prints on the blonde princess’s face fuel my anger and I send my cuffed fists right into the assholes face, and my steel-toed boot into his balls. The fucker drops to the ground gasping, and suddenly, my team is surrounding me and half-drag me to the sleek black limo that has pulled up curbside.
“Find the blonde that ran out of here,” I say to Jay as they push me into the Lincoln and it peels away.
“Relax, our undercover let us know she was helping you, it’s already done. Dereck and Nate just picked her up. She’s safe, Matt,” Jay says, unlocking my cuffs. I try to catch my breath as we navigate through the back roads. About ten minutes later we come to a sudden stop on the far end of the tarmac and I’m thankful for my team as they lug me up the ramp of the Gulfstream.
“Get him into the back bedroom. What the fuck happened to him?” I hear Brian Carrington say.
“We’ll explain later. We’ve got a few more of our team, and one of our physicians that will be joining us any minute, and there’s a world of heat behind us,” Jay says.
“I’ll let the pilot know to hold the plane, you just get him comfortable,” Brian says as the world goes dark.
