Bound by Danger: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance (Born in Crime Book 2), page 13
Seth heaves out a massive sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. I was seriously worried. Well, don’t worry. I’m here now. Neither of you have anything to worry about again. I’ll take care of you.”
He said that with a strange look on his face, and it makes me stay still with Candy, not making a move toward him and the mouth of the alley just yet. There’s something I can’t put a finger on in his expression… something that’s not quite worry. In the shadows cast into the dark alley, he looks different. Almost… menacing. Possessive?
I tell myself I’m being silly. The look is probably guilt because he was the one to lose Candy, or at least, he probably blames himself for letting it happen. I’m being silly. Thinking that, I clear my throat, but my heart is pounding from more than just the adrenaline of finding the dog unharmed. Also, those words he just said, which are borderline creepy, are probably more for the dog’s sake than mine. Seth drops his eyes to her, proving my point.
Still, my voice shakes as I tell him, “We, uh, still have to get her back to the shelter. I’m not sure how we’re going to do that.”
Seth’s hands flex at his sides, probably from stress. I’m stressed, too, which is the only reason I can explain the way the hair stands to attention on my arms. Candy’s sitting right by me, leaning on my leg, and my hand just reaches to where I can set it on Candy’s head again and grasp the leash tighter.
I’m about to begin to coax her down the alley, because all of my instincts tell me to get the heck out of here and back into the light of the street, when the low rumble of a car approaches. A second later, headlights sweep through the alley, and I let out a sigh of relief. Because I know that car.
Dario.
He throws open the driver’s door and marches down the alley. In shadow, he actually looks far more handsome than he does in the light, and that’s really saying something. It says that I’ve noticed. Right now, though, I don’t care about any of that. I’m so relieved to see him there that I nearly drop the leash because my hand goes lax.
“This is amazing!” I turn back to Seth, but my heart nearly stops. He’s giving Dario such a black look of hate that I can’t believe I’m seeing it right. When he turns his head back to me, his face is composed, and I think I must have imagined it. The shadows in this alley are crazy. “Uh…” I continue, “I mean, Dario can give me and Candy a ride back to the shelter. If I can get her in the car. It would be a lot faster than having to try to coax and cajole her all that way.”
“Yeah.” Seth smiles at me, but the expression doesn’t sit right with me. It doesn’t reach his eyes, which are hard and cold. “That’s great. I’ll head back on foot, and text to let them know you’re coming. With Candy.”
“Thank you.” I’m being beyond genuine, so I don’t understand the flash of annoyance in Seth’s eyes before he turns and stalks past Dario. He keeps his eyes on the ground, and Dario lets him go without saying a word.
He does walk up to me and get closer than necessary, standing there so fiercely that I almost gasp. “Do you have any idea the worry that you’ve caused?” he starts out, but I don’t let him get going.
I hold up the hand that’s not holding the leash. “Yeah, I do. Which is why I want to get back to the shelter. In case you can’t see, I was out here looking for her.” I indicate Candy. “She’s scared senseless and doesn’t need to hear any of your yelling or lecturing. I know that I left my phone behind. I know it’s dark. I know it’s late. I know David is waiting and he’s probably called my dad. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. This was an emergency, and I forgot my phone. I apologize. So, can you please just give me a ride back?”
Dario’s eyes are wide, but he’s still looking at me, so I know it must be me that amazes him and not the thought of sticking a dirty-looking dog in his car. Or any dog. Well-groomed or otherwise.
“That’s all you have to say?” he demands.
“Yes. Now. Thank you for coming to find me. I imagine you were in the area and someone called you.” I do realize that he’s wearing jeans and that he looks good in them. They’re nice jeans, too. Faded, but from the factory. They fit just right, giving the barest suggestion of the power hidden in the legs they’re covering, and the long, thick muscles, the—
What the fuck? I’m seriously going there right now?
“You’ll give us a ride?” My voice is all hoarse and raspy. Husky, I’d call it, but I’m reserving that term for the dog, who I look pointedly at. Because I’m talking about her. Looking at her. The dog. Not because I don’t want to look at Dario because the sight of him does all the wrong things to my body.
“Yes,” he growls. “Get in.”
“Her, too?”
“No, you should just leave her here after you endangered yourself searching for her.”
My head jerks up at his sharp tone. There’s something off about it that I don’t understand. Not like how I thought Seth was off, but something… I don’t know. Something warm. Worry. That’s worry. He was worried about me.
I have to shake myself at that. He was worried because Uncle Gastone was worried, and my mom, too. Probably John and Elisa, on top of that. That’s all.
“That guy could have… you were alone with him here. I don’t like him. He knows where you live, and now he gets you alone here, in this alley and—”
“That’s what this is about? Seriously? No, don’t even go there,” I tell him, shaking off the seed of doubt I felt earlier. “Seth was looking for Candy just like I was. Then he was looking for me because I didn’t come back to the shelter. He knew what area I was covering. He was going to help me get her back.”
I force myself to laugh off Dario’s concerns and turn my focus to coaxing Candy carefully, pulling on her leash ever so gently. Maybe she’s scared or maybe she’s hungry, or maybe it’s a combination of both and she senses that she’s safe now and she’ll be warm and fed at the shelter, but she actually comes with me just fine. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d say she’s just fine on a leash, though I know that might not be the case once she gets more energy in her again.
“You think I’m jealous!” Dario sputters. He walks after me, but keeps a safe distance so he doesn’t scare Candy.
I open the passenger door, testing the weight of it. It’s so different from any new car door that I’ve ever opened. They’re all so light in comparison. Candy hasn’t balked, though. She’s sitting there beside me patiently, as though she’s waiting for me to help her in.
“Sara!”
I wasn’t going to bother responding to that last comment, partly because I don’t trust myself to keep the right tone in my voice, but now Dario’s pushed me to it. He’s standing right behind me, so I scoop Candy into my arms, and that’s enough to distract me from Dario. She’s obviously done for the night because she doesn’t even put up a fight. She doesn’t weigh a lot even though she’s not a small dog, she’s been so underfed as a stray. If she was at a healthy weight, I know I wouldn’t be able to pick her up like this. She’s all dirty fur, protruding ribs, and lanky bones. I could see it from looking at her, but feeling it makes me want to cry.
“Sara…”
“Good lord.” I sit down hard on the passenger seat, which is about as comfortable as a sack of bricks. I keep my arms wrapped around Candy when she tries to squirm. Wisely, Dario shuts the door. And his mouth.
Which lasts about two minutes, until he’s reversed the car and is heading down the street. The streetlights glint off of all the cars parked on either side, even at this hour.
“Sara…” He grinds out my name this time. Hot. Angry. Spicy.
I can’t help but enjoy the sound of it rolling off his tongue, sounding longer than two hard syllables. Beautiful, even though he’s pissed. And yes, he’s jealous. I can see it in his rigid posture. In his white knuckles on the wheel. I can almost smell it on him, mingled up with his other stronger, richer male scents. Familiar scents.
“Honestly, I know you’re jealous, but I don’t care. Just because… well, the library…” I trail off thinking of it, but I have to get through this. “The library was a mistake. Anyway, it doesn’t make you my boyfriend. Everyone knows you don’t do that kind of thing anyway, the dating thing, so you have no claim on me. Absolutely. None. Therefore, you have no right to be jealous. It’s actually absurd. Plus, not that it’s any of your business, I have zero interest in Seth.” Right. And I also sound like a raging meanie because I’m peeved. And this is also giving me another taste of feeling like a bit of a hypocrite, because it does make me surly to think about Dario with other women. Women who are taller, prettier, thinner, more talented, and sexier than I am.
I’m saved from my morose thoughts—thoughts I’d have to give my own shade of green to—by Candy’s trembling. She’s shaking so hard that I wrap my arms tighter around her, but then I realize that she isn’t shaking at all. She’s heaving.
She makes a nasty, watery sound in her throat that travels up and up and up, and makes itself known right into the middle console of Dario’s car.
“Oh shit,” I say.
The car screeches to a near standstill, and then he steers it to the side of the road. Not a parking space, and someone honks behind us. It’s a testament to Dario’s unholy worry for his car that he doesn’t roll down the window and stick his hand out at whoever can’t go around us.
“No!” he protests, looking at me first and then the dog. His face is so dismayed, so disappointed, so epically destroyed, that he actually looks like a petulant little boy.
I have to bite down on a laugh, and I hide my face in Candy’s fur to hide my amusement. But oh god, the smell. It’s not pleasant. It smells like half-digested dog food, sour milk, and something rotten.
“No!” Dario says again. I can just barely see him wagging his finger in the dog’s face. “Why? Why would you do that? After I was nice enough to give you a ride and all!”
I wipe my face clean of any expression and study him. “Probably because she’s never been in a car before—that I know of. I’m sorry, though. I’ll make sure I give you money to get it cleaned.”
His eyes dart up to me, glaring. “You think I can’t cover it?”
“It’s not that! Of course, I know you can!” I tell him. Talk about absurd. “It’s just out of respect. You were nice enough to give us a ride.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he points out. “I was sent out to look for you.”
“Ahhh. So you weren’t here because you were worried. You were searching for me because my family is worried. There’s a difference.”
Dario’s face goes blank. “Did you want me to be worried?”
I shrug, looking back down to Candy as I reply. “I know you were. That’s why you were irrational back there in the alley.”
“If anyone was irrational, it was you. Being out here alone. Being so stupid. Without a phone or a weapon to defend yourself. Honestly. The niece of Gastone Gambino. I expected more.”
That stings. “You know what? I’m glad she threw up in your stupid car.”
Dario yanks the wheel hard, but we resume driving at a normal pace. He’s not reckless, even when he’s been pushed too far. Or maybe he normally is, and he’s just taking care because I’m in the car. The possibility of that last option does something odd to my belly.
We’re both silent until we reach the shelter. Dario comes around to help me get the door open, but it probably has less to do with him wanting to be chivalrous and more with him not wanting me to break something or let Candy claw anything trying to get out. He wants me out of his car, and I eject myself readily enough. Given the smell of Candy’s barf, I can’t say I blame him for wanting his car back to himself.
I set Candy down, and she immediately rushes past Dario to the length of the leash, goes straight to the front tire, and squats down and pees. She doesn’t lift her leg because she’s a girl, but a huge river of yellow flows under the tire. It’s like a nice little fuck-you to a man who deserves it, and I don’t bother holding back my laughter as I walk Candy to the shelter’s front door.
Chapter 13
Dario
“We have a problem you should know about.” Marco approaches me as soon as I walk into our new warehouse. Not a new purchase, but the one which hasn’t motherfucking been raided, at any rate. Our new base of operations, as it were.
I don’t have to fake a grim expression. I’m tired of hearing about problems, and I don’t need more. Still, this is my job, and I can’t let my men deal with whatever’s come up on their own. “What happened?”
Marco’s eyes drift toward the back, where I’ve already set up my new office. I took care of that yesterday, buying the things that I needed to replace what got bleached and torched before the cops busted the last warehouse.
He’s silent, and I stare at him blankly. If he expects me to read his mind, he has another thing coming. I have many, many good skills. Picking Marco’s brain apart is not one of them. Even the basics about him don’t make sense, so mind-reading isn’t gonna happen. Like right now. He’s dressed all in black, from shitkicker boots up to the black toque he has on his head. It’s not cold in the warehouse—or outside, for that matter. Even in the heat of July, this guy wears a toque.
Whatever. He’s loyal, so he can wear all the goddamn toques he wants.
“Uh,” he begins, maybe more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him in the past, “there’s a Miss Codutti in your office. To see you. She said that you’re expecting her.”
What the hell? My blood throbs through my temples, making them pound. When it comes to Sara, I don’t know what I feel. A curious mix of protective instincts, for sure, and she was right about the jealousy. Something feral, too, that I know isn’t just desire. Not to say that desire doesn’t exist. Oh, it definitely does.
I sweep my hand up and over my face, scrubbing it in frustration. I’m tired of being confused. I’m tired of wanting a firecracker who will just blow up in my face. I like Sara’s sass. I like her fire. But do I really want to hold onto it and risk getting burned? I know what would happen if her uncle knew what I’ve already done to her. If he knew that my tongue was within a mile of her pussy, he’d demand that I marry her because, as he would see it, I’ve messed up her honor and it’s thus become my duty. Then the predictable would happen. We’d put rings on each other’s fingers, say a bunch of shit we didn’t mean, and then dig in for the long haul. That, in my experience, means getting bored of each other and seeing who can hate the other person more. Maybe having a child anyway, since we’d need a distraction and it’s expected.
That would never happen. Not with Sara.
The thought hits me like a hammer blow right to the kneecap. Not that I would know. I’ve never chosen that method, either. Too messy. But I bet it stings like a real bitch. I bet it feels just like I feel when these thoughts about Sara keep hitting me in the gut.
Marco is standing there and staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. I carefully slap a more confidant expression on and nod. “Thanks. I’ll see to it.”
Not to her. But to it. Meaning the problem. Because that’s what Sara is. She’s a problem. A problem that doesn’t have a solution. A problem that I can’t get out of my brain, but which I can’t purge from my mind… A problem with a face like a goddess and a tongue that could shame the devil himself.
Sara Codutti. The one woman who I’ve ever met who hasn’t fallen at my feet. The one woman who doesn’t like me. The one woman who might have faked an orgasm with me.
My blood is boiling as I stride through the warehouse. My men did an admirable job of cleaning the place up. It was dirty as hell from disuse, and I can still smell the dust in the air, thick and cloying. It makes the back of my throat burn.
The back area of the warehouse is where all of the offices have been set up. There’s a hall that breaks off into a number of metal doors. The place looks like a bunker. It’s ugly and unattractive, both on the inside and the outside. My office door is open a crack, and the light is on. I want to storm back over and find Marco and let him know that he is never allowed to open this door again. I don’t care if the devil himself is holding him at pitchfork point. This is my office. But then again… we’re talking about Sara, so whether or not she would have let Marco keep her out without killing her is another question entirely.
I don’t so much push open the door as I throw it open with a bang. Sara clearly heard me coming. She doesn’t move a muscle. She’s sitting in my expensive office chair, her legs up on the piece-of-shit desk that came with the place and got left in here because it was too big to fit through the door. She’s slid my laptop over to the side of the desk in order to make room for a set of red high heels. She’s wearing a red dress to match. It’s not casual either. It’s tight up top, outlining her gorgeous breasts. It tapers further at the waist and then explodes in a full skirt. Her legs actually taunt me with their bronzed perfection.
And she stares me down as if she’s the boss and this is her office.
“My uncle said that I have to bring you a peace offering. John told Elisa where you were, so that’s how I knew to find you here. Before you think that me tracking you down means I care, or that I want something from you, don’t. Just. Don’t.”
I notice the Tupperware container on the desk. Sara leans forward in a move that would make most dancers jealous, and which certainly attracts my dick’s attention, and pops the lid.
“Cookies?” My mouth drops open. “You brought cookies?”
“Yeah. Freshly baked. Don’t worry. I didn’t make them myself, so they’re safe. If you won’t try one, I’m going to tell my mom and she’s going to be incredibly offended. There are people in this world who you just don’t want to mess with, and my mom, when it comes to her baking, is one of them.” Sara’s lips purse, and her eyes narrow in challenge.
