Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance (13 page)

The first guy still has his hand pressed hard over my mouth. He raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Check her ID. Make sure.”

The second guy pulls my wallet out of my purse and looks at the ID. “Marie Francesca Lauro,” he says in a lurid sing-song.

Stringy guy’s skin is pockmarked and stained like a gravel road. He comes in closer, sniffing my hairline lasciviously. “Marie, Marie,” he snarls as he forces my head back. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s not nice to lie?”

I don’t say anything. I want to cry. I want to scream, but his hand is so hard over my mouth I can feel my lips bruising on my teeth. I just nod, hoping he's going to call Daddy and tell him I was good. Tell him I didn't try to struggle, I didn't embarrass him.

Bad breath guy looks at me with a leer. “What we’re gonna do is, you're going to come with us real quiet. You can save your screaming for when we get to the car.”

I nod quickly to indicate that I understand. Truth be told, I wonder what took them so long.

“I don't think she's gonna do it," says stringy guy.

Stringy guy pulls me closer to him, moving me up and down so my ass strokes against his front. When Daddy hears about this, he'll have this guy’s tongue for soup.

“Oh, she’ll be good,” bad breath guy sneers. “You like breathing, don't you?”

I nod again.

“Because it doesn't matter to me, you know,” he explains. “All I need to do is bring you to the drop off point. Whether you're still breathing at that point is negotiable. You understand? Move your hand, Emilio. Say you understand, Marie.”

Stringy guy lets his hand fall. It knocks against my tit on the way down.

“I understand,” I hiss, now free to breathe. My lips hurt. “When Daddy hears about how you're talking to me, he's not going to like it!”

The two guys look at each other and burst out laughing. Seriously, when Daddy finds out about how these jerks treated me, they don't even know how much trouble they're going to be in. That's the only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit as the bad breath guy yanks me by the elbow and pushes me back out into the terminal hallway.

I trudge alongside them as they practically drag me through the moving walkways. People don't even seem to really pay attention to what's going on here, but I'm not screaming or struggling too much anyway. I probably just look drunk. Maybe these guys look like they're helping me out, how ironic is that?

We pass at least a dozen security guards who don't even notice these two have hold of my elbows as they pull me toward the parking garage. Nobody even gives a shit around here. It's like I would have to be waving a sign or something in order for anybody to pay any kind of attention. Even the guy holding my $10,000 purse on his shoulder doesn't raise any eyebrows. People are so stupid sometimes.

We make it to the parking garage, and I see the black SUV idling right in front of the elevator doors. A third guy climbs down from the driver’s seat pushing a hand through his coarse, curly hair before flicking his fingers toward my captors. He's Puerto Rican, I'm almost sure of it. I couldn’t tell at first but all three of these guys are. Why is Daddy hiring Puerto Ricans to come get me now instead of our own guys? This doesn’t make any sense.

The driver tosses a black cloth to bad breath guy who tugs it over my head. Now I’m breathing through a hood, and the world has gone completely black. A hood? This is totally fucked up. What am I, a political captive?

“Jesus, guys!” I yell through the fabric. “Get this thing off my head!”

I stumble blindly forward as they shove me in the direction of the SUV and hear a door open. My hands push out into the air in front of me. Just as I'm about to get to the part where I think the car is, my right arm is jerked harshly forward and I stumble, knocking my knuckles against the metal door frame.

I drop to my knees and hear a grunt and a wet squawking sound. Everything is confusion as bad breath guy’s voice cracks in an abbreviated snarl. I hear the sound of footsteps and someone cursing.

Nobody's holding my arm so I pull the corner of the hood over my chin and peek out. A big form is blocking my view, but I can see bad breath guy crumpled on the ground in front of me. His eyes stare blankly at the ceiling, his mouth open in a frozen expression of surprise.

The figure in front of me twists slightly. “Close your eyes!”

I push myself backward toward the wheel well, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. “Wait? What?”

Roman crouches so that his back is closer to mine. I can see that he's got the stringy guy by the scruff of the neck and the driver pressed to the ground under his boot heel. The dark metal of a pistol gleams in his hand, but then he moves his arm away so I can't see it anymore.

“Close your eyes, goddamnit!” he snarls again.

I yank the hood back over my face and jam the heels of my hands against my eye sockets as two soft pops echo briefly in the concrete garage. Heavy sounds follow immediately, and I can almost see in my mind’s eye the driver and the stringy guy falling to lie still on the oil-stained concrete.

A hand circles my elbow and jerks me roughly to standing. Arms surround me and the hood slides off my head. I’m being carried or dragged in the opposite direction, swiftly.

“What did you… Did you do that? Did you have to kill them?!”

Roman gives me a disgusted look yet keeps guiding me through the maze of cars to an idling Jeep near a pylon. He opens the door and practically hurls me into the passenger seat, but then stops to take a second to strap the seatbelt over my waist.

My breath is coming out in short, explosive gasps as he rushes around to the driver side and then gets in. In seconds we're out of the parking garage, barreling down the exit ramp toward the interstate.

Just as I’m about to start asking what the fuck again, his hand comes up into the space between us, silencing me.

“Not one word, Princess,” he growls. “Not one single word.”

“Don't you tell me not to say a word! What the fuck was that back there?”

“That was
handled
,” he says slowly, as though I'm an idiot.

“Handled?! Handled?? Is that what you call
handled
? That was fucking
murder,
Roman!”

He cuts his eyes toward me and then shakes his head in disgust. “They had a lot worse in mind for you, Princess, I assure you.”

“Daddy’s men would never hurt me! I can't believe you just… How could you!”

“I protect what's mine,” he mutters dangerously.

“I am not
yours
!”

He scoffs, sucking his teeth and sweeping his eyes across all four lanes of traffic, looking for more trouble I guess.

My heart is racing like a crackhead jackrabbit through my chest. My hands tremble as I hold on to the handle over the window. Roman drives like a maniac, cutting in and out of lanes, slamming on the brakes and shifting violently.

“Slow down for chrissakes! You’re going to get us arrested!”

“Getting arrested should be the least of your concerns.”

“I already told you! Daddy's men would never have hurt me!”

“You think those were your father's men? You seriously believe that?”

My jaw drops open silently. Words stall on my tongue. “Well… Of course they were.”

“Oh, of
course
they were. Because you know so much. Right.”

“If they weren't Daddy's men, who the fuck were they?”

Roman takes a deep breath and holds it, still swiveling his head constantly to look around us. Nobody seems to be following us, but I have to admit it is nice to have him on the lookout.

“This doesn't make any sense,” I mutter under my breath. “This doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“What doesn’t make any sense is that this some kind of surprise to you,” he sneers. “This never happened before? You’re some kind of Mafia royalty and this has never happened to you?”

I shrug. Has it? I don't think so. "Well, there's always somebody there… I mean Nuncio or Jimmy or somebody. I mean…”

He chuckles cruelly. “My, what a fairytale life you've led, Princess.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“That’s how you talk to me? When I just saved your life?”

“Whatever,” I say, but it sounds thin and unbelievable, even to me. “So then who was that?”

“That was your wake-up call, Princess,” he says slowly. "That was real life. How do you like it so far?”

ROMAN

Zadrota
. This little idiot keeps huffing and puffing in her seat, trying to take some kind of attitude with me. Unbelievable. I just saved her ass and what's left of her honor and all she can do is sit there and growl at me.

After a few minutes on I–90 I think we’re probably in the clear, not seeing anybody. Anyway this Jeep is practically an armored tank. Anything less than a drone missile strike and we’re going to be fine.

She keeps chattering on and on but I can't even listen to her anymore. I punch the power button for the radio and then turn it up loud, too loud for me really but at least I can’t hear her nagging.

It would be funny if it weren't so sad. This little princess has no idea what's going on. And for that matter, I'm also curious about this incident. I surely didn't expect to be popping three guys in a parking garage when I went out to find her.

She angrily mashes the radio’s power button with her thumb then twists in her seat to glare at me.

“Just what the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I'm taking you back for a refund.”

Her eyes flash at me. “Excuse me?”

“Listen, why don’t you just sit back and be quiet for a while, eh? I don't need to be explaining every move I make to —”

“— you better get used to it,” she interrupts. Her cheeks are flushed and her nostrils flare with every breath. Looks like I just made my stuffed animal angry at me.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... Just listen to the music why don't you?”

I reach out to turn the radio back on and she slaps back of my hand. Seriously. She slaps my hand.

“You really shouldn’t get in the habit of hitting a guy like me.”

“What, you're gonna threaten me? Are you kidding?”

"I don't need to make threats. I'm just explaining a couple things you don't seem to understand.”

“Oh, you're
explaining
things to me?”

“Yes, I'm explaining, because apparently nobody ever taught you any manners. Nobody ever taught you anything about the real world. You’ve just been hiding in your castle your entire life and missed out on a few important details, Princess.”

"Well, thank you very much,” she sneers. “Didn't you just get here, Roman? I think that there's probably a thing or two about Chicago that you don't know. Did you ever think of that?”

I don’t say anything, because maybe she's got a point. Not a very good point, but a point nonetheless.

“All right, tell me.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me what I don't know.”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

I cut my eyes toward her. She's got her arms folded and her chest is just heaving. She’s so cute I want to pat her on top of her head.

“Fine. I thought you were offering. I’ll just ask your father when we get there.”

“My father… You know what, you’re a jerk.”

“I'm way worse than that, Princess.”

She turns back around in her seat with a huff. Her fingertips drum on her sleeves and she chews her bottom lip between her teeth.

I take the ramp to I-94 and consider turning the radio on again, but don't bother. We’re only about fifteen minutes away anyway. Surely I can stand to listen to her making angry hamster noises over there for another fifteen minutes.

“How did you know where to find me anyway?”

"Oh you're speaking me now?”

“Roman, try to stop being an ass for just one moment. How did you find me?”

I shrug. “Because you took the L.”

She sucks at her teeth. “Okay? I took the L, so what?”

“You took the L because you didn't think anybody would follow you on the L. You took the L so your Daddy couldn't find you. So there were only a couple of places you can go on the L right? I mean… Jesus, you think you’re some kind of genius don't you?”

“Smarter than you,” she sulks.

“Apparently not, love,” I inform her. “And I'm not the only one who found you either, am I?”

She scowls out the window with her eyebrows knitted together and her jaw working back and forth as this all sinks in. Finally, a little peace and quiet. Let her stew for a few minutes.

I stop the Jeep in front of the cigar club, get out, walk around, and yank her door open for her. She blinks against the hard sunlight coming down between the buildings.

“Why are we here? Why didn’t you just take me home?”

“Just keep your mouth shut, Princess. Can you do that for me?”