Bend: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 6

  I should have hated him. Instead, I wanted to taste him so badly.

  I wanted to submit. I just didn’t know how yet.

  I had a feeling he was teaching me.

  Chapter 12

  Dante

  I couldn’t get the image of Jodie touching herself out of my head.

  I hadn’t even really felt the girl’s skin yet and still everything we’d done together has been the most erotic fucking shit I’d ever been involved with. Just talking her into an orgasm was intense as hell, and afterward I had to get myself off in the shower while thinking about her.

  Watching her body and face while she came was incredible. She did exactly what I told her to do without question and I knew she would, I knew she’d want it as soon as she looked at me that night. I knew Jodie couldn’t resist it as soon as she saw me. The girl was transparent to me, easy to read, the sort of girl that I could just tell what she was thinking.

  And what she was thinking was dirty as fuck. She was probably angry, conflicted, and confused, but regardless she still wanted to suck my big cock, choke on it, take it deep inside her cunt, ride me until she was drenched in sweat and halfway there.

  That’s what I fucking wanted from her. I wanted that sweet tight pussy wrapped around my cock. If I could get her off just by talking to her, she could probably only guess at what I could do to that perfect, tight body if I decided to take her.

  I’d get what I wanted soon. I’d give her what she needed soon. In the meantime, though, I had business to attend to.

  The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Gennaro, and as much as I wanted to ignore him, I knew that I couldn’t. I answered it, still blinking away the groggy sleep in my eyes. “Yeah?” I grunted.

  “Wake your ass up,” he said. “We have a meeting.”

  “What?”

  “The Irish got in touch with us last night. They want to meet today to discuss the girl.”

  I blinked, surprised. It’d been a few days and I assumed that the Irish just weren’t interested in getting her back. I didn’t know why her people would abandon her, but I assumed that they did.

  I assumed wrong, apparently.

  “Where and when?”

  “Rittenhouse Park,” Gennaro said. “In two hours. Meet me there, outside the bookstore in one hour.”

  “Fine,” I said. “See you there.”

  I hung up the phone then got up. I made Jodie a quick breakfast and gave it to her. I watched her eat and neither of us said a word about the night before, although it was clearly still hovering between us, a tense feeling thick as wool.

  When she was done, I tied her up and gagged her. She was docile this time, not bothering to struggle and was even helpful. I left the gag a bit looser, though not loose enough for her to get it out. I couldn’t take that risk, even if she wasn’t struggling.

  Finally, I showered off, got dressed, got my gun, and left.

  I made it to Rittenhouse just on time. I stood outside of the bookstore, watching tourists go past, until Gennaro came up to me from the south.

  Drago was with him, looking sour. I didn’t want to know why that asshole was in a bad mood and so I completely ignored him. “Gennaro,” I said.

  “Dante. Glad you made it. Let’s grab a bench.”

  I followed the two men into the main part of the park. It wasn’t a large park at all, but it was situated right in the middle of the city. There were several long paths that converged on a large open fountain space in the center with benches lining the paths. People were sitting, walking, and playing instruments all over the place. There was a group of people singing and a guy doing spray-paint paintings for tourists. People sat in blankets on the grass in the sun, and there were a lot of locals walking their dogs. It was a popular spot, and so it was basically always crowded, especially when it was nice out. Large, tall trees provided shade and the constant hum of conversation and music gave the whole place a nice, busy feeling.

  It was the perfect place for a meeting like this. It was way too public to do anything and we all knew it. Nobody was stupid enough to start shit in Rittenhouse Park, especially considering there were literally at least five police officers patrolling the area, probably looking for pickpockets. Still, Gennaro was smart in bringing me and Drago, even if the chances were slim that the Irish would try anything.

  We found a spot, sat down, and started waiting for the Irish. College kids with backpacks walked past and hipsters with their fixed gear bikes sped by. I watched them come and go, idly curious.

  “What do we know about the guys we’re meeting with?” I asked Gennaro.

  “Not much,” he admitted. “It’s some new guy that stepped into the vacuum the Walsh scumbags left. He’s apparently well liked by the locals and not nearly as violent as Walsh, though that’s not too fucking hard.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense. The successor is looking to cement his control.”

  “What do you mean?” Drago grunted.

  Gennaro grinned t him. “He means, the new guy is probably trying to marry the old boss’s daughter.”

  “Right,” I said. “Since the Walsh’s were in control for so long, it would help this new guy if he had some legitimacy.”

  “Strike some fear into the locals.” Gennaro laughed.

  We settled into waiting, mostly just watching the ebb and flow of the crowd. Nobody stood out to me and nothing suspicious was going down, which was almost a little worrying. With a meet like this, you’d think there’d be a few guys watching us at all times, but apparently not. Or if there were, I wasn’t spotting them, which meant they were very, very good.

  I finally spotted them five minutes before the meeting was supposed to go down. I knew it was them the second I saw them. Mafia guys have a way of holding themselves, and even when they try to pretend like they’re someone else, they can’t help but telegraph it. Other mafia men always notice it.

  They came right over, three Irish assholes led by a short guy with bright red hair. He was maybe five ten and full of muscles, like a little pit bull or some shit. They stopped in front of the bench as we stood up.

  “Gennaro,” the short man said. “We meet at last.”

  Gennaro frowned at him. “Sean Brogue?”

  “That’s me,” he said, grinning.

  “I thought you’d be . . . “

  “Taller?”

  “Older.”

  He laughed. “No. I’m what I am.” He motioned at the men with him. “These are my associates Shamus and Ian.”

  “Drago and Dante,” Gennaro said, motioning at us.

  “So you’re the man that brought down the famous Walsh Clan.”

  “That’s right. And we’re the ones that still have the famous Walsh daughter.”

  “Do you now?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I assumed she was dead by now.”

  “You didn’t know we have her?”

  “Of course not.”

  I frowned at Gennaro. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell the Irish? The dumb asshole probably just assumed that they’d know, which explained why we hadn’t been contacted yet. They didn’t even know she was fucking alive.

  That pissed me off. It didn’t really matter one way or the other, but it still annoyed me that Gennaro was so fucking stupid.

  “Why are we having this meeting then?” he asked.

  “I wanted to meet the man that killed my predecessor. I wanted to size you up.”

  “Well then. Size me up, asshole.”

  “No need for name calling.” Sean grinned again. He had squinty little eyes, emerald green and beady. “Just a friendly meeting. We’ll be in competition soon enough.”

  “I doubt that. Without Walsh’s contacts, you guys won’t take back what I stole from you.”

  “Ah then, so you admit to stealing it?”

  “I’m strong, you little asshole. I stole it, and that makes it mine.”

  “We’ll see then, we’ll see.”

  “What about the girl?” I asked sudden
ly, surprising even myself. I was sick of them measuring dicks and didn’t feel like wasting my time anymore.

  Sean looked at me slowly. “Dante, is it?”

  I nodded. “What about the girl?” I repeated.

  “I don’t give a fuck about the daughter of some dead, weak asshole. Kill her, rape her, mutilate her, I don’t give a shit. Do whatever you want.” He smiled at me. “You stole her. She’s yours.”

  I wanted to knock his teeth out. That sick bastard was willingly giving up a woman of his own people to be abused, raped, and killed. He didn’t give a single fuck about her because she didn’t help his cause.

  I was sick of this shit. Part of me was hoping that the Irish could be a way out for me, but instead it was another dead end. Pagano didn’t give me good advice and now this fell through. I was pissed and I wanted to hurt something.

  Instead of getting us all killed, I walked away. I just turned and walked away, done with the whole thing, sick of the fucking game. Gennaro was going to be pissed, very pissed, but that didn’t matter. He’d get over it eventually, or maybe he wouldn’t, it didn’t matter at all to me.

  I was going back home to Jodie, because someone had to give a fuck about her, and that might as well be me.

  Chapter 13

  Jodie

  I hated getting tied up and gagged, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Fortunately, Dante came back after a couple hours and removed everything, and then brought me a really good lunch.

  After eating, I sat back against the wall and stared out the window. Well, not exactly out the window, but out the space between the two wooden boards. I could just make out shapes and light, but I assumed it was the top of a tree that I was looking at, and the shifting light was the wind through the leaves. It almost made me feel calm as I stared and let time slowly slip past me.

  But as I stared, I gradually became aware of the wood itself. My eyes traced the lines down along the wood until I saw something odd.

  I stared at it for a second, not realizing what it was. I got up and walked over to the window, studying it closely.

  There was a crack in the wood, right around the nail. It must have formed from me working the board back and forth, although I didn’t remember it happening. The last time I worked the board, Dante came in to give me dinner and I had to stop quickly and pretend like I was just looking out the window. He probably knew, but he didn’t say anything. He just placed my food down on the floor and then left again, his intense blue eyes staring at me the whole time, sending shivers down my spine. From desire or fear, I couldn’t decide.

  Still, there was definitely a crack. That was good, extremely good. It meant the wood could break if I really wanted it to, although that would be pretty loud. If I kept working it, I was willing to bet that I could get it loose in an afternoon, maybe two at most.

  The memory of the night before came back to me then as I thought about escaping out the window. I thought about Dante’s cocky grin, his words, the way my body felt as I got off. He made me feel something incredible, something I never imagined I would feel. I hated that he was my jailer and my kidnapper, but I loved the way he made me want to give in to him.

  I sat back against the wall and let time pass again. Dante eventually came back in with dinner and left again. The sun slowly went down.

  My mind was moving a million miles per second that entire time, though. I kept trying to decide what to do about the board, what to do about the crack. If I worked it, I could probably escape. I might be able to drop out the window with minimal injuries and get away from him before he even realized that I was gone.

  It was dark when I finally got up and tentatively stepped to the window. I stared at the crack and the board then listened to the room for a second. I could hear the very gentle, muted drone of Dante’s television from the other room, but no other sounds.

  Quietly, I grabbed the board and slowly began to move it. Silent but firm I wiggled it, pressed it, yanked it, back and forth, back and forth. My fingers ached after a few minutes and I was pretty sure I had a few splinters, but it didn’t matter.

  The board was moving. The crack was widening and I knew that if I hit it with all my strength, it would probably snap. I couldn’t risk that though, since it would make a loud noise and alert Dante. He’d just come in, tie me up, and fix the board, leaving me back at square one.

  I had to be absolutely silent. I moved the board, working it, stretching it inch by agonizing inch. After some time passed, I couldn’t be sure how long, I heard Dante’s television turn off. I heard his footsteps down the hall and I quickly dropped to the floor, sitting with my back to the wall. He stopped outside of the door but didn’t open the eyehole. A second later, he walked away, and I heard him go into the bathroom.

  Silently, I got back up and went back to work. In the back of my mind I could hear Dante getting ready for bed. I heard the water run, the toilet flush, and finally I heard his bedroom door close. When he was definitely in his room, I began work the board a little bit harder, giving it more force.

  It began to splinter. Bit by bit it broke, and finally I felt the piece give entirely. There was a crack, but not too loud. I stood there completely still, not moving, the half-broken board in my hand. It was still attached at the one side but I could bend it up enough that if I really yanked, it would break free.

  I stared at it for what felt like hours, not sure what to do. I could easily break it off at this point and maybe even get the window open. I might be able to climb out and escape.

  But I didn’t know where I was or where I’d go. I didn’t even know if I could survive the drop from this height.

  I bent the board back and looked past it, out the window. I could see the tops of the trees, just like I guessed, but they were the actual tops. To my horror, I realized that I was on the third floor, not the second.

  “Shit,” I said softly to myself.

  I couldn’t just jump out the window. I bit my lip, looking around. I might be able to use the blanket as a rope, let it dangle me down then drop, but I still might break something and really hurt myself.

  That might be better than being locked in this room, though. No matter what I did, I needed to make sure that I escaped and stayed out. I couldn’t let him capture me again and just bring me right back into this hellhole.

  As I peered out the window, trying to decide, I heard footsteps in the hallway.

  Heart hammering, I put the board back in place and got onto my mattress. I looked up at the board and bit my lip, hoping Dante wouldn’t notice that it was broken. It actually fit back together nicely, and I didn’t think someone could tell unless they really got close to it and checked, but I was terrified as he came into the room.

  He was wearing what he normally wore when he came to me in the night, no shirt and a pair of black gym shorts. My heartrate doubled when I saw his gorgeous body and that knowing, cocky stare.

  “You’re awake.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He smiled. “Were you waiting for me?”

  I didn’t know if I should lie. I knew I shouldn’t play into the fantasy, but I wanted to so badly anyway. I was afraid he’d look at the window and notice the crack. Which was so obvious to me, but hopefully wouldn’t be to someone that wasn’t looking for it. I had to make sure that I didn’t look at it, which wasn’t too hard considering I had him to look at instead.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You still don’t know, do you?”

  “Don’t know what?”

  “You’re going to submit to me. It’s only a matter of time now.”

  I glared at him and stood up slowly. The smile on his face spread. I came up to his shoulders, and he was easily twice my weight, but I stood up to him anyway.

  The problem was, I thought he was right. If I stayed in this room and didn’t use my chance to escape, I was going to give in to him. I could already see how it would play out, and there was a strong part o
f me that wanted to.

  “Who are you?” I asked him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “My name is Dante and I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “That’s not a reason.”

  “Yes, it is.” He stepped closer to me. “I didn’t want anything to fucking do with you. My boss forced you on me, but I’m glad that he did. Now that you’re mine, I’m not going to give you up, no matter what they want from you.”

  “Why would you do that for me?”

  “It’s not for you. It’s for me.”

  “How? You’re risking your life.”

  “Maybe. But now that I have you, I can’t imagine not having you again. That’s why I need you to submit before I can save your life.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He grinned. “I’ll save it anyway. But it won’t be as much fun.”

  “This isn’t fun for me.” I stared him down, feeling that anger stirring inside of me. “This isn’t fun at all. Do you think it’s fun to keep me locked in this room all day with nothing to do but to stare at the wall?”

  “No,” he said simply. “I don’t.”

  “Good. Because it’s fucking not fun.”

  “So what, you think I should just let you go?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I do.”

  “Okay, good idea. Then my employers will hunt you down and kill you right after they cut my throat and leave me to die on the street.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “Yes, it does,” he said, stepping toward me. Chills ran down my spine. “The men I work for do not fuck around with this sort of thing. They don’t give second chances and they don’t spare lives. If they even get a single whiff of anything wrong here, they will murder us both before we can even blink. There’s no going back, Jodie.”