Fury (6 page)

Chapter
Nine

Fury
sat on the porch and stared at the sun as it rose. He brought the whiskey to
his mouth and took a long drink. He sure as fuck didn’t need any more alcohol,
but after what he’d done with Angelina he needed something to take the edge
off. The only problem was he wasn’t so drunk he was passed out. Oblivion
sounded really fucking good right about now. He needed to get to Sal, to find
out where the fucker was, but without help from the MC—because they didn’t know
what in the hell he was up to—he’d have to do this alone, which he had no
problem doing, or find some shady fuckers to help.

Pushing
up from the porch, he leaned against the banister for a second, the world
tilting slightly. Fury turned and headed inside, the screen door slamming shut
behind him. As the floor started to twist and rise up, he realized he’d had
more to drink than he thought. He was just going to bed, but he changed
direction and made his way toward the bathroom, a shower sounding pretty
fucking good right about now. Not only did he need to clean off the sweat and
drunkenness from the night, but also he was always still wearing the damn jizz
covered jeans. Yeah, he’d come in his fucking pants like a teenager. Dry
humping Angelina like he was fifteen and didn’t know where to stick his cock
was ridiculous, but fuck had it felt good.

I can’t keep her chained up like a
fucking animal. I have to let her go.

He’d
been a fucking idiot to take her, kidnap her from her home. What the fuck had
he been thinking?

He
braced a hand on the wall and made his way down the hallway and toward the
bathroom. Looking at the closed door where Angelina was had his cock coming to
life despite the amount of whiskey he’d consumed and the fact he’d already
gotten off. He stood there a moment just staring at that door, and finally made
himself go into the bathroom. Fumbling for the light switch, he turned it on
and winced at the harsh light. But the room started to spin, and soon the floor
rose up and greeted him.

****

Angelina
sat on the edge of the bed, the room dark, and the light from under the door
coming through. She got up and opened the door, seeing the morning light fill
the cabin. Her heart was beating fast and hard, and she was nervous about what
in the hell the next step was. She’d gotten off at the hands of Fury, and
although it had only happened last night, her body was still warm, still lit up
from the experience.

She’d
thought a lot the past few hours, and as much as freedom from the life she’d
led was all she’d ever been looking for, a part of her, a little voice, showed
her she could have that. Angelina was having that, in a sense, and as fucked as
it all was, and screw up she was even thinking about how this wasn’t “so bad”
she reminded herself where she’d come from.

Murder.

Drugs.

Torture.

Shady
shit always going down simply because her family could do it.

Isolation
and loneliness.

That
was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her family. She looked down the
hall, but couldn’t see past the living room. Looking at the bathroom she saw a
pair of dark boots peeking out from the corner of the door. Her heart beat
faster, and she moved toward the door. The light was on, and she pushed the
door open as far as it would go, but Fury’s big body stopped her from opening
it all the way.

He
was on his back, his chest rising and falling, and the normally harsh lines of
his face seeming relaxed. The scent of alcohol filled the small room, and she
realized he was passed out cold. Walking further into the bathroom, she stared
at his face for a moment, the weight of the chain on her ankle having reality
fill her. She bent down and search his pockets. And there they were … the keys.
She held them in her palm, staring at the glint of silver that caught the
overhead light, her heart racing. Angelina looked at Fury again, at the way his
dark hair was a mess around his head, how the dark layer of scruff covered his
jaw and cheeks, making him seem so damn masculine.

She
stood and backed out of the bathroom. Once in the hallway again she bent once
more and undid the lock. The metal fell to the ground, and she started
breathing harder, faster. Her knees were starting to buckle as she walked down
the hallway, went into the kitchen, and finally stopped. She looked around. The
place was rustic, barren. The front door was right there, just a few feet from
her … unlocked. Her hands started shaking as adrenaline coursed through her
system.

Without
thinking anymore she went to the front door, opened it, and let the fresh air
wash over her. Hair covered her face as the wind whipped the strands around.
Taking a step onto the porch, Angelina was greeted with worn wood on her bare
feet. She looked down, the oversized sweats covering the tops of her feet, but
the freedom having excitement rush through her.

But
fear also filled her, had her frozen to the spot.

Here
she was, no longer chained, yet not running. All she could think about was what
waited for her on the outside. Her father would find her, if he hadn’t already
known where she was this whole time. What would he do once he had her? He’d be
pissed, that was a given, but with Marco’s death would he want to keep her
lockdown even more than he already had in the past? Would he want to make an
example of her because she’d run? That would be seen as a betrayal, and blood
or not, her father wouldn’t let that go, no matter what.

Without a doubt.

Angelina
didn’t know how long she stood there, just staring at the trees surrounding
her, but she felt free, like being out here there wasn’t anything that could
touch her, especially her father. She’d lived in a box for so long, and even
after she’d run and spent the last few months’ away from her family, she’d
never fully felt like she was free. That worry that her father would find her
was always on the back of her mind. All she’d been able to feel was that
tingling on the back of her neck, the pressure that she was being watched. But
here, now, she didn’t feel that. Angelina didn’t feel like her family would be
able to reach her.

Turning
and looking at the front door, she envisioned Fury lying in the bathroom. She
shouldn’t want anything to do with him, and she should have just run, but here
she was, turning around and walking toward the door.

Once
she was back inside she made her way back to the bathroom and stared at the
chain that was lying on the hallway floor. It symbolized something stronger
than just escaping this prison. It also meant she broke away from a life she’d
always been tied down to. Maybe it was just her own thoughts and twisted
notions that had her feeling like this, but it felt good, right even.

I’m crazy. I have to be to stay
here.

But
the truth was she had nothing for her out there, not really. What was available
was a family thick with crime, murder, and one that had never paid much
attention to her. She’d been the daughter of Sal Cardona, and that’s all she
had been. Marco had been the apple of her parents’ eyes, and with him gone it
was only a matter of time before her mother and father caved into their anger
and sadness, if they hadn’t already.

No,
she was alone one out in the world, and if she truly wanted to be free this was
where she needed to be. This was what she needed to do in order to finally be
where she wanted, even if that meant staying in this cabin with the man that
had kidnapped her.

Chapter
Ten

Goddammit.

That
word played over and over again in Fury’s head. The ground was cold and hard
beneath him, and when he opened his eyes the pain in his temples was something
fierce. He rolled onto his back and stared at the bathroom ceiling. He’d passed
out on the fucking floor like an amateur.

Fucking hell.

What
time was it even? How long had he been out?

Fury
pushed himself off the ground and leaned against the wall, the room spinning as
he was still fucking drunk.

Shit.

He
rubbed a hand over his face, felt pain assault him from lying on the floor for
God knew how long, and finally managed to stand. He braced his hands on the
sink and hung his head, just standing there for several seconds. Finally
lifting his head and staring at his reflection in the mirror, he groaned at the
way he looked.

His
face was covered in dark scruff, really only a day or two from a full beard. He
had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and his hair was fucked up. He was
still a little drunk, but felt like shit as his hangover was starting to really
take root.

Splashing
some water on his face, Fury grabbed a hand towel and wiped himself off. The
glint of silver caught his peripheral vision, and he turned his head to look
into the hallway. For long seconds all he did was stare at the chain and lock
on the floor. He didn’t move, didn’t even comprehend what he was looking at.
And then it hit him.

That’s the chain and lock that are
supposed to be attached to Angelina.

He
looked toward the bedroom, and then toward the living room.

Fuck.

Pushing
the door all the way open until it slammed into the wall, he hauled ass down
the hallway and toward the front door. Who knew how much of a head start she’d
gotten, and although he should have been thinking about being pissed off she was
gone, all Fury could think about was if she was okay. The forest surrounding
the cabin was treacherous in a lot of areas, with sudden drop-offs and steep
hills. If she wasn’t careful and her fear was taking control, she could get
really fucking hurt.

He
heard the sound of something sizzling right before the scent of food slammed
into him. Fury rounded the corner and stood in the kitchen, seeing the back of
Angelina. Two pots were on the stove, one having steam rising up from it, the
other cooking meat.

She
looked over her shoulder at him, the fear clear on her face as she slowly
turned around.

“You’re
finally awake,” she whispered, holding a ladle.

Fury
looked between her face and the ladle covered in what appeared to be spaghetti
sauce on it.

She is still here, even though
she’s not chained up? What the fuck?

He
scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, not sure what was going on. “What
the hell?” he asked.

She
shrugged, and the expression on her face showed she was just as confused as he
was. “I thought about leaving, was at the front door, too, but something in me
had me stopping.”

This
was the craziest thing to ever happen to him, and he’d had one crazy as hell
life. “So you thought staying with the man that drugged and kidnapped you was a
better option than taking your chances out there?”

She
shrugged again. “It’s fucked up, believe me I know.”

His
head was spinning, and pain started behind his eye. Fury didn’t know where to
proceed. She was either stupid, or scared of being out there. Either way he didn’t
know if keeping her here was the best option. Of course he’d thought of letting
her go, but he’d always shut that option down. She wasn’t a prisoner any
longer, yet she wanted to stay with his bastard ass?

You want her, want her to stay
because you’re selfish.

“Why
the fuck did you stay?” Fury knew he sounded like an asshole now, his voice
deep, accusing.

She
was silent for a second, but then set the ladle down and ran her hands on the
rag she held. This hardened look crossed her face. “Because there isn’t
anything for me out there. I leave and my father finds me, locks me up, pissed
I ran from the family. This is the first time in my life I haven’t felt like I
was somewhere where I shouldn’t be.” She shook her head, and he heard her
exhale. “Even chained up because of you I felt … safe.”

It
was Fury’s turn to stay silent. “Fuck,” he said and turned from her, bracing a
hand on the wall because the room decided to spin something fierce. “Looks like
we’re both pretty fucked up, Angelina.” He glanced at her over his shoulder,
liking the way her name rolled off his tongue.

She
licked her lips. “Yeah, I’d say I was pretty screwed up well before you came
along.”

Fury
turned around and faced her once more. “You really want to stay?” He lifted a
brow and watched her nod. “And you realize what I plan to do to your father
once I find him?”

“Kill
him?”

Fury
let out a gruff sound of agreement.

“Sal
was never my father, not really. He never treated me like a daughter—”

“And
that means you’re okay that some man wants to fucking kill him?” Fury’s voice
was raised because of his annoyance, and the fact his hangover was coming on
strong.

She
looked down at the ground for several seconds. “My father’s done a lot of bad
things.” She lifted her head. “I’m sure there are a lot of men that would like
to take him out for killing their loved ones. I ran for a reason, because I
couldn’t stand the life of knowing my father and brother killed for the sheer
sport of it or if someone looked at them the wrong way.”

The
pain in her voice struck him in the heart, and it was a weird fucking feeling.
Fury didn’t give a shit about a female’s feelings, or at least he never had
before. But seeing Angelina like this, and hearing her upset over her family,
pissed him off and made him homicidal. He wanted to go out and hurt the person
that had made her feel this way.

And I will. Her father will be just
as dead as her fucking brother.

****

They
sat in silence at the table in the kitchen, the pasta sitting uneaten in front
of Angelina. She wasn’t hungry, and she’d only made dinner to keep herself busy
and have her mind on other things.

Looking
up at Fury, she saw him chowing down, and this amusement filled her despite the
situation. Even after the initial shock of seeing him up, and realizing that
she had actually stayed despite no longer being chained up, things had still
been tense and weird. Angelina caught him looking at her, the feeling of his
gaze like fingers on her body. She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for
him. It had been instant, even if he’d been the “bad guy” at first.

“I
haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long fucking time,” he said in his gruff
voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

“It’s
just spaghetti and meat sauce.” In her family this meal was pretty standard and
easy to make, although there were about a hundred different variations of it.

“It
tastes like fucking gold.” He didn’t look at her as he polished off his second
helping. Once he finished dinner he grabbed his beer and took a long drink from
it, and she was surprised he was even in the mood for alcohol given the fact
he’d been piss ass drunk just a few hours before.

“Hair
of the dog and all that shit,” he said, and she realized she was staring at
him. He lifted up the now empty bottle. “I don’t need to read your mind when
what you’re thinking is spread out across your face.”

She
smiled, but it was forced, and she knew pretty distant. Angelina pushed her
food around, her stomach cramping at the distaste of even wanting to eat it.

“You’re
not hungry?” Fury asked, and she looked up from her plate.

“Not
really.” Angelina leaned back in the chair.

“You
should eat something.” He tipped his chin toward her plate. “No sense letting
good food go to waste, and you’ll just be hungry in a couple of hours.”

She
could have said something sappy about how he sounded like her father, but it
would have been a lie. Her parents hadn’t given a shit about what she ate. More
times than not she’d been in the kitchen eating with the staff anyway.

 
She ran her hand over her eyes, feeling so
tired all of a sudden. And then she remembered that little sliver of
information she might be able to give Fury to help him find Sal. How wrong was
it that she was actually okay with him taking out her father?

If Sal isn’t taken out you’ll never
truly be free. He’ll never just let you turn your back on the family.

“I
think I know where to find my father,” she said, this sting in her heart taking
root. She may not have ever had a real relationship with her dad, but there was
still that blood connection between them. But the countless lives her father
had taken, the lack of remorse, or empathy for the families that were now
fatherless, brotherless … even wife and childless, had resolve settling inside
of her.

Fury
didn’t respond to what she said, but he watched her intently. He leaned forward
and braced his forearms on the table, clearly waiting for her to finish
speaking.

“My
father owns a home out in the middle of nowhere, not too much unlike the set-up
you have here.” Her heart was thundering behind her ribs.

“A
safe house?” Fury asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah,
I guess that’s a good description. In the past he’s gone up there with my
brother and a few of his men when things have gone shitty.”

Fury
had a clenched jaw, and his knuckles were white from how tightly he was holding
them in a fist. “And what, he’d just leave you in the heat?”

She
thought about what he said, not actually realizing that, yes, her father had
totally left her at the main house. She’d always had staff around, even a few
guys to watch over her, but never once had he taken her to the safe house.
Angelina shrugged, trying not to seem like she cared.

“Although
I’m sure you already know this, your father is a motherfucker.”

Angelina
couldn’t help it. She actually laughed. “Yeah, that he is.” She sobered as she
thought of a life without her father or any other Cardona watching over her,
making sure she toed
their
line and
followed
their
rules.

“You
think that’s where he’s hiding out?”

Angelina
nodded. “It’s as good a guess as any, to be honest. I never heard of any other
place he stayed at.” She thought about her father up there without her brother.

Marco’s dead.

The
words played out in her head, yet she felt no emotion. She also didn’t feel any
empathy at the thought that her father could be dead sooner rather than later.
But when she thought about the fact she could have a hand in it she did feel
guilt over a life possibly ending because of her words and actions.

“Killing
him is the only option?” she found herself asking. When Fury didn’t say
anything right away she looked at his face. His expression was stoic,
unwavering.

“Killing
him is the only option, Angelina.”