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It takes everything in me to let go of her and step back, but I manage it. She looks fucking exquisite, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving, her eyes still sparking with anger, but nearly black with desire. She looks like she wants me to ruin her, and every part of me wants to do precisely that.
Instead, I reach out and gently nudge her away from the door. And then I walk out, without a backward look.
Brendan isn’t out front when I leave. I hear the whirr of a tattoo machine, see a girl with gauged ears and two full sleeves waiting in a chair near the door, and I stalk out of the shop, letting the door close behind me as I head back towards the garage, my cock aching. I had to leave when I did, or I would have lost what little self-control I still have.
Emma has found her way under my skin, utterly and completely. And I want her in ways I’ve never wanted anyone else before.
I’m not paying attention the way I should be on the walk back. It’s not until I feel that prickling sensation at the back of my neck, just before I reach the garage, that I turn and see someone following me. A man dressed in all-black casual clothing, not dissimilar to what I have on. I tell myself it could be nothing. But when I steal another glance, there are two men.
I quicken my pace just a little. It occurs to me that I should have brought security with me, even just one or two guys. But I hadn’t wanted any chance of Emma seeing that. I hadn’t wanted to remind her how different we are, what a different world I occupy. I had wanted her to see me as myself, just for a brief moment.
Our conversation made it very clear that she hasn’t forgotten I’m mafia, not even for that brief moment I hoped for. And now, if I’m not careful, I might pay the cost of that foolishness.
I realize, when I step into the parking garage and see three more men step out from a space near my car, the extent of that.
I’m not incapable of getting into a fight with my fists. But five-on-one isn’t good odds. As they close in around me, I hope like hell they didn’t bring weapons.
“You don’t belong here, Campano,” one of them sneers, driving away any illusion that they might be ordinary muggers, and not Altiere’s men. I’d thought he wasn’t bothering with me or my family, but it’s clear that I was wrong.
“Let’s not be hasty.” I lift my hands, edging to one side, but they’re circling me like dogs around a slab of meat. “I’m sure your boss doesn’t want to start something that I’ll have to finish later. I’ll head back to my side of town, and you can let him know you properly threatened me. How’s that?”
I don’t intend to let this lie, obviously. But I’d rather handle it on my own terms, not unarmed and surrounded in a dark, shitty parking garage.
One of them snorts, moving in closer, and it’s clear that this isn’t going to be settled so easily.
I manage to block the first swing, ducking out of the way of an incoming blow from the man on my right, but a solid punch to my side nearly knocks the air out of me. I kick at the ankle of the one in front of me, and he trips backward, giving me room to dart through the gap. If I can get to my car—
It’s like trying to escape a pack of wolves. I don’t have much of a chance. Two of them are behind me, closing in as the ones on the sides block off my opportunity to escape. I see the one who tripped scrambling up with a vicious look on his face, barely visible in the dim light, but I catch a glimpse of it.
Another punch to the side, this one hitting my ribs so hard that I think I might have heard something crack. I get in a blow to the jaw of the one on my right, but at the expense of a fist plowing into the left of my back, knocking me forward.
I almost fall. I scramble up, spinning to punch at one of the guys behind me, but there’s just no way I can fend them all off. For every hit I land, it feels as if I take two more, until I feel like I’m struggling to breathe. My head snaps back as one of them connects with my nose, another hits my jaw, and my face starts to take the brunt of their attacks. I fling up an arm, and that’s when I feel the burning pain along my side, along with the hot drip of blood.
One of them at leastdoeshave a weapon.
“Hey!” A rough voice comes from one of the men. “We weren’t supposed to slice ‘em up. None of that!”
I take the moment of discord in the ranks to try to make a break for my car, but once again, there are simply too many. Two of them arguing isn’t enough to distract the other three, and I take two more punches as I try to fend them off. One of them kicks my knee, hard, and my leg buckles, sending me down to the concrete.
All I can think, as I feel a fist connect with my nose, is there’s no way they’re going to kill me. Altiere doesn’t have the balls. But they’re damn sure going to hurt me.
And no one other than Emma even has any idea that I’m on this side of town.
10
EMMA
I’m so furious with Dante that I can barely think straight for the rest of the night. I wave off Brendan’s questions about him, only saying that he’s the client I filled in for Rico with, who now has been passed to me.
Brendan whistles. “He’s fucking hot.”
“Is he?” I pause, doing my best to seem as if I’m telling the truth. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Brendan snorts at that, rolling his eyes. “Sure,” he says sarcastically, but he leaves it at that, and I’m thankful. I don’t think he missed Dante’s misplaced jealousy or the way we both stormed into the break room—both things that are entirely out of place for two people if they’re just client and artist. Brendan isn’t stupid. But he does know when I want him to leave well enough alone.
My clients and walk-ins are easy, which is good, because I’m on autopilot for almost all of it. When I’m not replaying how seethingly furious I am at Dante for his arrogant, high-handed way of showing up at my work and then making assumptions about my relationship with Brendan, I’m trying not to think about the filthy things he whispered in my ear.
It’s all but impossible.
