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Not even glancing at my wound, Pops grabbed his chest. “Boy, are you seeing bright lights and shit?”
I pulled Elle to my side and gazed adoringly. “Yes, isn’t she beautiful?”
The other men with Pops nervously readjusted their stances, all their leather cuts and boots creaking in the quiet alley, but not Dagger. He was as frozen as Pops.
Even though her face was now cradled in my hand, Elle peered over my thumb stroking her cheek and studied the men. “Can someone tell me what’s happening?”
Pops was practically speechless, but managed to say, “He’s… smiling.”
Elle rolled those fabulous eyes of hers. “I know. He’s ridiculous. Been shot yet keeps giving me that smile.” She tried again to step away from me but braced herself when I yanked her back in. To the onlookers, she said, “Hello? Earth to bikers? Throw your boy in that SUV and get the hell out of here. They will come out here looking for me any second.”
My smile fell and I studied her. “You mean get us out of here.”
She sighed as if sad reality wasn’t my friend. “I see how special you are.” With sympathy, she touched my bearded face. “I swear it. Even if you don’t. That is why I can’t go with you. You don’t understand how deadly they are.”
My ego not appreciating her assumption, I licked my upper teeth in a sinister fashion. This woman was clueless as to who stood in the alley with her. “I may be a walking corpse, but have you noticed Death hasn’t come for me yet?” I leaned my face closer to hers. “That’s because I make him tremble.”
Entranced, her mouth parted. “Good God, that was hot.” She blinked, reminding herself, “Mimosas and beer…” then tried my brothers and Pops again. “We seriously have no time. Please take him and go.”
I glared at Pops so he understood the fight he would have on his hands if he dared try to interfere, especially not in my favor.
His stare pierced us… then he nodded.
Elle breathed a, “Thank you,” but stopped when Pops, not letting Elle out of his sight, said, “Put her in the cage.”
And there it is.
Elle recoiled. “What? W-Wait—”
Lacking sincerity, Pops told her, “Sorry, Mafia Princess. You’re coming with us.”
Chapter eleven
Holding Secrets
Lorenzo Giordano
Leaving his master bedroom behind, Lorenzo Giordano walked to the bow of his docked yacht. “What do you mean, she’s gone?” The night was filled with stars as Lorenzo seethed into his cell phone, absolutely perplexed that the lead of his club’s security team wasn’t even capable of keeping a proper eye on his fiancée. “Do you not watch over the fucking manager, the owner of my bar?” Whether or not Elle aspired to a role—as manager, owner, or fiancée—in his life, bothered Lorenzo not. What he desired, he got. Even if he had to lie, cheat, and steal to get it.
Elle was a prize he had earned. May have terrorized in that earning, but his, she was.
Nighttime security of his million-dollar boat gave him privacy for the phone call, but Lorenzo knew they wouldn’t stray far. Docked or anchored at sea, if Lorenzo found an untimely death, their own deaths would, undoubtedly, be next. That was the way of their lifestyle.
Blood for blood.
Heavy stakes.
Bigger prices.
His club’s head of security said over the cell phone, “She was taking a break, dancing in the middle of the floor.”
That was unusual behavior for Elle, making him wonder why his paid men didn’t suspect something was amiss. “Then?” asked Lorenzo, with no patience at all.
“Then a fight broke out at the front. Focus was, er, rerouted.”
The knowledge that Elle wasn’t under Lorenzo’s thumb made him irate. Absolutely boiling inside. He prided himself on his controlling ways. He wore his ‘in charge’ persona like a badge of honor. “What will be ‘rerouted’ is your guts after I spoon you free of them.”
“U-Uh… We’re working on sending you a couple of videos now, Mr. Marchetti.”
