Sweet Pain: A Dark Mafia Billionaire Romance (Amatucci Family Book 3) Page 7

  I nodded, then shook my head. “Yes to the first. No to the second. Come on.” I tugged on her hand to get her to follow me.

  Rafe had passed us. When we caught up, he was kneeling down next to the grubby man. Ran his gloved fingers over the other man’s head. The thief’s hair was greasy enough that it stood up in spikes as Rafe did his check. “Should be fine. A little bump.” He looked up at his brother. “You’ve gotten good.”

  Mas didn’t acknowledge the praise. He simply turned back to us. Jerked his chin at Willow.

  She darted forward. Grabbed up the two gun cases. No bigger than thin shoeboxes, they looked innocuous enough. Until you saw the flashing biometric hand plate on the top of them.

  I wondered how the drifter had even figured out what was in them. Or maybe he just didn’t like high security boxes. I couldn’t imagine anything with that level of security boded well outside on the streets.

  Willow handed one to me. One to Mas. In turn, she laid her right palm to each box. They both snicked open. She peeked in both boxes before she closed them both and took them back. “Yeah. These are mine.”

  Rafe got to his feet. “It looks like quite a bit more of this is yours as well.” A smirk pulled at his lips. “I didn’t have you pegged for lace, Will.”

  I growled at him. “Don’t think about her underwear at all, Rafe.”

  He held up his hands, danced back out of my strike zone. “Just saying.”

  “There was some jewelry as well,” Mas said. His broken vocal cords gave the words more importance than they really needed.

  Willow waved his comment away. “It’s just some costume jewelry. He’s welcome to have it. And I certainly don’t want any of the underwear back.” She shuddered delicately. “Did you ask him why he took it? Was he working for Cavendish, do you think?”

  I shook my head. “According to his ramblings, he thought it was pretty. Said it winked at him. He begged to keep the bag.”

  Willow’s shoulders dropped minutely as the fine lines bracketing her mouth vanished. “He’s more than welcome to keep it. I’ve got what I need out of it.” She smiled up at me. “And hey, at least you get to replace some of my wardrobe.”

  I chuckled, felt heat lick at my belly. “Indeed, I do. And that shopping is going to be fantastic.”

  “Gross. You two are horrible. Go sex each other up somewhere else.” Rafe rolled his eyes. “Come on, Massi. Let’s leave the lovebirds to their sins.”

  Mas shifted his hands and just like that, his gun was out of sight once more. He leaned into Willow’s personal space.

  She didn’t back up.

  He pressed his cheek to hers. “Be careful in future, sorella. Or you will be getting more responsibility lessons on gun ownership.” He eased back. Nodded at me. “Penn. Keep her safe.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  He waved that away. “Family first. Always.” He dipped his head and walked for the mouth of the alley.

  Willow and I followed him and Rafe. I took her gun cases. Well, I tried to.

  She shook her head. “No. They’re mine. They need to be in my care at all times.” She shuddered. “I really don’t want lessons from Mas again.”

  “What kind of lessons?”

  Her face went a little pale. “Pray you never find out.” We stopped at the curb. I opened her door for her. Helped her ease down into the seat so she didn’t drop her boxes.

  I walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Started the car and drove us home.

  Home. Such an important word for four little letters. And this time, for the very first time in my life, it would be more than a prison. More than a place of pain and anguish. It would be full of love. Belonging. Acceptance. Fun.

  Chapter 8 – Willow

  Once again in the elevator, I huddled the gun safes close to my chest. I’d been so stupid to leave them in a different bag. To not have grabbed them the first trip. I could have gotten three very important men hurt. Or worse. I shuddered as I cut the thought off.

  “You okay?” Ryker asked softly.

  I nodded. Tried to smile. Words came gushing out of my mouth. “I’m so sorry. Sorry for not doing a better job. Sorry for not taking care of the guns the way I know I should. I could have gotten you shot. If the person who’d taken them…” I trailed off as nightmare after nightmare ran through my mind.

  “Hey.” He pulled me into his arms. “Nothing happened. We’ve had a pretty emotionally draining couple of days. No one got hurt.”

  “This time,” I muttered into his chest. I rubbed my forehead back and forth between his pecs. “Sweet goddess, Ryker. You could have been shot. Died.” I looked up into his face. “You’re not allowed to die.” My tone was hard, my gaze fierce. “You’re not allowed to leave me.”

  He laid his lips against mine as the elevator slid to a gentle stop. “Same back at’cha, cupcake. Shake this off. We’re good. We’ll just be a bit more gooder in the future.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  I snorted. “That’s deplorable grammar.”

  He smacked a kiss to my lips before he pushed the button to hold the door open for us. “Got you to laugh, so I’m good with it.” His hand settled on my lower back as he ushered me into the penthouse living room.

  All of my luggage had been deposited a few feet inside the private entrance. I stopped. Looked at the mountain of luggage. “Holy cannoli, I’ve got so much shit.”

  Ryker burst into laughter. “You’re just now realizing this?” His hand on my back urged me farther into our home. “This way. I’ve got a gun safe you can put those in. I’ll also need to program you into it.”

  He led me down a hall to the right. I wrinkled my nose as I tried to recall something that flirted with the edge of my mind. I vaguely remembered this hall from my first visit here. “One of the spare rooms is through there, right?” I pointed with a jerk of my chin.

  Looking over, he nodded. “Yeah. Where you almost died on me. Fun times.” He shuddered. Pulled the door shut as we passed it. “I’m going to gut that room at the first opportunity.”

  I giggled. “There’s no reason to do that. I’m standing right here. You saved me in that room. Just like you’ve been saving me since I first met you.”

  He hand wrapped around my hip, squeezed. “Thank your goddess.” He pressed his lips to my hair.

  I was beginning to realize he did it to assure himself I was still there. Still with him. I felt treasured when he did it. Important.

  “I’ll continue saving you for the rest of our lives. You saved my life. My heart. My soul. I can only try to return the favor.”

  We took the last turn available at the end of the hall into another room. Done in the earth tones of the rest of his—our—home, it was relaxing and cozy. A wall of windows provided enough light that the recessed can lights in the ceiling were irrelevant during the day.

  Two giant desks sat like opponents facing off in the middle of the room. Against the wall that held the door was a massive safe. Imperial was etched into the metal face. Complete with a dial bigger than the span of my outstretched hand, it also had a retina scanner, and a palm plate.

  Ryker stepped up to it. Spun the dial deftly. After five or six turns of the dial, he laid his palm on the reader at the same time he put his eye up to the scanner. A low humming sound came from the safe.

  “Welcome, Mr. Penn,” it said as the internal mechanisms began sliding with whispers and hushed turns that were just barely audible in the quiet room.

  “Sexy voice,” I said with a smile as he backed up.

  He shrugged. “Until I get a recording of you right after you cum, it will have to suffice.” He winked at me.

  I snorted. “Good luck on that happening.” I stepped forward to inspect his arsenal. Blinked when I saw the breadth and depth of it. Pistols, revolvers, shotguns, rifles, automatics. Knives, machetes, I even saw a dagger in a jeweled sheath. It was a functional museum of ways to hurt people. I turned, looked up at him. “No rocket launchers?”r />
  His lips quirked up at the corner. “Those are in the kitchen for quick access.”

  I laughed. Unlocking my gun safes again, I removed my puny Ruger P22 and my Smith and Wesson M&P9 Shield. I double checked the slides. Made sure there was a bullet in each chamber. My guns were for protection. So they were always loaded.

  I set them on the shelf in one of the few empty spots available. I shook my head as I stepped back. “They’re like the poor stepchildren.”

  He laughed. “Just means we’ll have to get you some more guns.” He pulled me back into his arms. Wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt him snug his cock up to the crack of my ass.

  “I’ve only got two hands, hero.” I laid my hands over his. Pushed my ass back against him.

  “And they’re great hands. Watching you handle firearms is so fucking hot.” His warm breath at my ear sent shivers down my spine.

  “Oh yeah?”

  His growl was my answer. He caught the length of muscles between my neck and shoulder between his teeth. Increased the pressure until I gasped and writhed in his arms. “Now, let’s get you programmed into the safe and make a dent in the mountain of crap you brought with you.” He slapped a hand to my ass as he left me high and -- well, not exactly dry -- for the second time that day. Even if he had delivered on the promise earlier.

  As he shifted around me, I glared at him. “That’s number two, Mr. Penn. Don’t make it number three.” I narrowed my eyes at his back.

  His chuckle was low. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. Chase. Now get your sexy ass over here. I need your hand and your eyeball.”

  I grimaced. “If it’s possible for girls to get the equivalent of a boner, you just killed mine.”

  He laughed. “I’ll bring her back to life. Don’t you worry.” He snagged a hand around my hip. “Come on. Palm on the screen.”

  He flattened my fingers, held the middle of my right palm down against the glass plate. A buzzing warmth slid under my flesh. The safe beeped twice.

  “Good print. Eye is next. Left or right?”

  I shrugged. “Isn’t one as good as the other?”

  He smiled. “I use my right so I can keep my left side free in an emergency.”

  “Then let’s keep things equal.” I stepped up, leaned my forehead against the rest as a tiny mechanical arm came out and flashed a red light from left to right over my eye. The safe beeped twice again.

  “New biometrics recorded. Name?” the safe asked.

  “Ms. Willow—Chase,” he finally said. A funny look descended over his face.

  “Forget my name already?” I asked, a laugh in my voice.

  He shook his head. The odd expression vanished. “Not ever.” He spun the dial, pushed the ten-inch steel door shut with a soft snick and shhh of gears. He turned on his heel, held out his hand. “Let’s go tackle a mountain.”

  I groaned as I put my hand into his. “Can I change my mind? Let you buy me all new stuff?”

  He laughed. “Sure. But I don’t think you’d like that very much in the long run. Come on, cupcake. I’ll pour us some wine, we’ll sort through your department store’s worth of stuff. We’ll have fun.”

  “Do you promise to cut me off if I get drunk?” I asked seriously.

  He must have heard something in my voice. He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Yes. Is there a particular reason for that?”

  I nodded. “I don’t like getting drunk. Makes things harder to feel. To sort.” I didn’t shrink away from his searching gaze. “I rarely drink, actually.”

  “The night in the club that precipitated our meeting?”

  I shook my head. “Club soda and lime. I never drink out in public. Ever.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Yeah, cupcake. I’ll make sure you stay this side of drunk. You don’t have to drink at all if you don’t want to, you know.”

  I nodded. “I don’t mind it. Enjoy it really, when I can trust who I’m with. I’m a wicked lightweight. And as long as you have a good selection of wine, I think I’d like a glass tonight after all the excitement of the last few days.”

  He smiled, pulled me into his arms as we continued down the hallway back out to the main living area. “Red or white?”

  “Rosé?” I asked as I looked up at him.

  He nodded. “I think I’ve got a bottle of the stuff for my mom.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Great. A mom wine.”

  He laughed. “My mom has pretty great taste, so I think that should count for something. I’ve got a White Zin if you prefer a little drier.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t like the drier wines. Rosé is fine.” We parted ways at the conjunction of the living area, dining room, and kitchen. I stood at the base of my luggage mountain and could have kicked myself.

  Seriously? How did I have this much crap? I knew my rush through the apartment was fast and frenzied. I’d no doubt forgotten some of the important stuff. But this was crazy. For a woman who hated clutter, I sure had enough crap to store.

  I knew some of the bigger suitcases had my favorite sheets and duvets. But outside of that, no fewer than fifteen bags were full of my clothes and shoes. That didn’t even account for the bags we’d taken into the bedroom on the first round of luggage musical chairs.

  I sighed. Toed off my shoes. “I’m going to downsize. I don’t need all of this stuff. I probably don’t wear half of it anymore.” I stood there, eyeing the detritus of my previous life.

  “Can I ask a personal question?” he asked as he came over, a glass of wine in his elegant, masculine hands.

  “Always.” I took a sip. Sighed as the crisp, fruity flavor exploded in my mouth.

  “Where and when did you get all of this? I can’t imagine Ethan took you shopping all that often.” His voice was soft.

  I barked a laugh. “That’s the understatement of the year. I got to leave the house, but that was about it. He put me in a chipped choker that was equipped not only with GPS, but also a camera and listening device.” I took a big gulp of my wine. “No. I went a little crazy after Tali and Nico rescued me. Went on shopping binges. Made a pretty significant hole in my trust fund.”

  He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pressed his lips to my head. “Then I’m glad you’ve got all of it. If you want to get rid of some, I’ll help you. I’ll also be taking you shopping for lingerie. At the very least.” He squeezed my shoulder.

  I nodded, my throat too full of a huge lump to say anything else. This guy…he got me. In so many more ways than just one. I didn’t have to explain it in minute, excruciating detail. Just a few simple sentences and he was right there with me.

  I moved over, set my wine on the nearby side table. I slapped my hands together, rubbed. “Let’s get cracking, hero. I want to cuddle and watch a sappy movie.”

  He laughed as he added his snifter of dark amber liquid to the side table. “Then let’s get cracking.”

  **

  “You’re telling me you’ve actually worn this?” Ryker let the slinky fabric slide through his fingertips. “Out in public?”

  I laughed, tossed another shirt into the DONATE pile. “Yeah. You once asked me how my flirt game was so strong. I’m a Grade A-1 flirter. But I never let it get far enough to be anything other than flirting.”

  “But—” he held up the fabric that was just a hair longer than twenty-four inches. “But there’s nothing here. Fold it in half and it would make a great belt.” His eyes were wide as he shook it at me.

  “So you’re saying you want me to donate it?”

  He jerked it back to his chest. Growled at me. “No. I want you to put it on. But only for me. You can’t wear it out in public anymore.”

  I grabbed up another shirt. Studied it. I was pretty sure I had this same shirt in a different color somewhere. I set it aside to try on again. Most of this stuff still had tags on it. I was also pretty sure I had at least a couple multiples floating around here. How I’d let myself become so wasteful, I wasn’t quite clear
on. But I was going to move most of it out to better people.

  The cloth Ryker had been playing with slapped me in the face. “Here. Go put that on.”

  I grabbed it. Looked at my man like he was crazy. “Now?”

  He nodded, an eager light in his eyes. “Please.”

  I looked down at my rumpled state. Knew my hair and face were in dedicated frumpy, not leaving the house condition. “Can’t I show it to you later? I’ll make it worth your while to wait.” I sent him a smoky look through my eyelashes.

  His expression wavered between disappointment and joy. He nodded. Went back to sorting through the suitcase at his feet.

  I set the dress aside in the KEEP pile. I had the perfect shoes and makeup in mind. Now I just had to come up with the perfect scenario. I let that brew at the back of my mind as we trudged through the remainder of my stuff.

  He held up another shirt. “Okay, I swear this shirt is either multiplying or you have three exact copies of it. Same color and everything.”

  I looked at it. Felt my cheeks heat. “Yeah. I’m noticing that as well. Just put it in the to-go pile.” I tried to sneakily add the other shirt I’d kept to the pile as well.

  “Another one?” he asked.

  Dang it. I needed to work on my sneak game, apparently. “Looks like.” I tried to laugh it off. Felt tears push at the back of my throat, burn in my eyes.

  Ryker was stomping through the sea of clothes and luggage. He scooped me up into his arms. “What’s all this?”

  I did laugh this time. Laughed and cried. “Signs of my crazy! I have no fewer than six of the same exact shirt. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were the same shirt in different colors. That’s normal. But no. I have the exact same shirt. Did I buy them all at the same time? In one transaction? I can’t remember buying ninety percent of this shit, Ryker.” I covered my face with my hands, wept.

  He walked us to his couch. Cuddled me closer. “Shh, cupcake. It’s fine. It might be a little overboard, but you’d just been released from prison. From abuse. From literal torture. I think compulsively buying clothes is one of the least crazy things you could have done.”