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“Here?” He wastes no time sliding his meaty palm down my back until he’s aggressively gripping my ass.
“I was thinking more along the lines of something a little more private.” I coyly smile at him.
Although getting thoroughly fucked on this bar doesn’t exactly sound like a horrible time. Too bad a bullet to the skull would make a mess on this beautiful wood bar.
Taking a step, and freeing my ass from his hand, I begin walking toward the toilet. I reach the end of the bar before glancing over my shoulder to ensure he’s following. He is—eagerly—with one of his men only a few steps behind.
The moment I reach the door to the lavatory, his hands are on my body as he aggressively ushers me inside. He palms my breasts with the neediness of a boy in secondary school that’s never touched a shoulder before.
And women line up for this shit? Pretty sure he couldn’t find a clit with a map.
Spinning in his arms, I flick my finger under his chin and ask, “Do you think you should tell me your safe word?”
“Mysafeword,” he scoffs as I slip my hand into my clutch and pull out my Karambit. “Are you sure you don’t mean yours?”
“No, I’m pretty fucking sure I meant your safe word.” I slide the thin blade between his ribs and into his lung. Slapping my hand over his mouth, I drive his body into the wall. He hits with a grunt as I plunge the knife into him a second time.
Here’s to hoping the guy outside thinks we’re just having a good time.
Stabbing the knife into him a third time to the side of his neck, I ensure it’s fatal. Straddling Luca’s dead body as I wipe the blood from my favorite knife across his suit jacket, I’m distracted by a commotion in the hallway on the other side of the door. It jolts open and I’m met with the surprised faces of Richard, followed a moment later by the hired gun that should have been covering the door.
“Cat? What? Are you okay? Do I need to…” Richard rambles off a series of questions that are drowned out by the yelling of the man standing behind him.
You’d think he’d never seen a dead body before or something… Fuck, he hasn’t.
“Ucciso il capo,” the man behind Richard yells the words as he pulls the gun from his waistband. “He killed the boss.” Before he has the chance to raise his gun, I pull my Glock 32 from my bag and squeeze the trigger. It nearly grazes Richard’s ear as it travels to the forehead of the man standing behind him.
“We’ve got to go.” I grab his arm—his really broad and muscular forearm, actually—and pull him toward the kitchen. “We can get out the back.”
“Don’t we need to call the police?” Richard pulls against my grip and attempts to root himself in place.
“You can stay if you want.” I fire two shots down the hall toward the men that are quickly approaching. “I’m sure his friends wouldloveto talk to you.”
RICHARD
What the fuck is happening? A man is dead in a bathroom? Maybe two? I should call the authorities, or at the very least their family. Did she kill him? Or did she find him that way? Did he try to kill her? Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. She killed one man, so maybe she killed both of them?
“Focus, Richard. We have to go,” Cat shouts, pulling me from my downward spiral, handing me a motorcycle helmet. I tug it on and it’s a bit tight, probably her sister’s. I didn’t take her as someone who drives a Vespa, it makes more sense for Gabriella.
I climb on behind her, unsure of how tight I should hold her waist. I’m pretty sure she’d add me to her daily tally of murdered men if I accidentally graze an inch of her perfectly tanned skin.
We only make it a minute away from the restaurant before a round of gunshots fire around us. I don’t knowwhere they are coming from, only that neither of us are hit… I don’t think.
“Hang on tighter!” she yells, though it’s hardly a whisper through the helmets and the sound of the wind whistling around us. I do as she asks, pressing my body flush with hers.
Fuck, I hope I don’t get hard from this. Last thing she needs is my cock poking her in the back.
Cat takes a turn down an alley that no car following us could fit down. The bumpy cobblestone forces me to hold on even tighter. If we weren’t speeding away from whoever these guys are, I could appreciate how she fits a little too perfectly in my arms.
Gunshots echo off the buildings, a few bullets ricochet off the sides, and I risk looking back to see where they’re coming from. There are two men on motorcycles chasing us.
Maybe she owes them money? Did she fuck over a loan shark? Is she a… No, she can't be a prostitute. Maybe a pimp?
Cat reaches into a small saddlebag behind me, pulling out a gun. She slaps it onto my thigh. “Here.” I freeze and she taps it on my leg twice. “Take the gun.”
I slide my hand over hers and tell her, “That’s not a good idea. I’ve never shot a gun before, most I’ve done is archery when I was just a kid in Boy Scouts.”
In a swift motion, she lifts the gun from my thigh and taps it on my shoulder, the gun upside down and facing the men behind us. She shoots twice and a dull ache starts tobother me on my shoulder, “See. Point and shoot,” she grumbles.
