3

My cock screams for me to keep going, to pin her down and lick her from head to toe.

“If it’s a bad idea, why did you follow me in here?”

Elena’s fingers linger on my chest. A flare of warmth spreads where she touches me and she lifts her head.

“I was selfish.”

A weak feeling seizes my chest when she says that. I don’t know why. “You’re not selfish for wanting me. Ditch the loser and come home with me.”

A sad smile twitches across her face. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.”

I bend my head again, taking her lips in mine before she can utter a protest. Ah—fuck, the way she feels, her body rubbing against mine, her soft lips. Her palm rides my chest, the heel digging into my muscles. I just can’t wait another moment without knowing what her tits feel like, so I brush my palm against the warm curve of her breast. My thumb kneads her hard nipple as I deepen the kiss. She utters a moan against my lips that makes my dick throb. I squeeze her and then my hand moves to her waist and I take a handful of her flesh.

“Ow!”

Elena breaks off the kiss with a painful cry, and I snatch my hand away as if it were burned. Jesus, is she covered in bruises?

Small tears bead in her dark eyes and a surge of rage flashes across my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She shakes her head, dismissive. “It’s fine.”

Like hell it is.

“Who is your ex?”

“Why?”

“So I can beat the shit out of him.”

It bursts out of me before I can really think about what I’m saying, but it occurs to me that I really want to do this. I want to find the prick and bash his fucking head in. What kind of man hits a woman? It boils my blood to see this kind of shit. I’m no white knight, but I want this girl to not flinch when I touch her.

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea.”

Surprise rattles through my head. “Are you one of those chicks that keeps running back to the guy who beats you up?”

The icy glare she shoots me says it all. “Fuck you.”

“Then why’s it not a good idea?”

“Look, you seem like a tough guy and all, but my ex is—ah, connected.”

Connected. He’s in the mob? Huh. Interesting.

“You can say the word, you know. It’s not a bad one. Mafia.”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “He’s a wise guy.”

“So am I, hon.”

The energy shifts between us. All of a sudden, it’s tense. I reach down to my ankle and show her the piece I have strapped there. She sits up straighter and I have to laugh at her startled expression. An apprehensive look overcomes her face.

“Are you—are you with Johnny’s crew?”

Her wispy voice trembles from her uncertain lips, and I incline my head.

She knows Johnny—knows who I’m connected to. This is getting more and more interesting.

Elena drops her voice, adopting a frightened timbre. “Could I ask you—I mean, are you the right person?”

“I work for John. You can ask me anything.”

Elena bites her thumb anxiously, shooting me looks before she finally sighs. “I need to put a hit on someone, and I’ve a lot of cash.”

A hit.

My head turns so violently that I pull a muscle in my neck. I study her. It’s not often that I get asked for a hit from a woman. Her eyes burn with a quiet intensity that instantly raises my suspicions. Is she with the cops? Nah, I fucking doubt it.

“Let me guess, your boyfriend?”

She nods.

Plenty of women have hired my services to “take care” of violent boyfriends. My fists. Their face. That’s all it takes for them to walk away forever.

Not this guy.

A violent surge of energy pounds through my veins, making the ones on my hands swell.

“I think I have a pretty good idea, but why?”

She slowly licks her lips and just the small motion is enough to make my dick throb.

“I left him and he’s coming for me. He won’t stop until I’m dead. It’s him or me.”

I breathe in her tantalizing scent, my eyes all over her generous cleavage, and my balls seize when her thighs bump against mine. I reach up, brushing back her dark-brown hair, and I touch one of the bruises on her neck. She flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Sure you want to do this? I’ve handled guys like this before.”

Her voice hardens and her big eyes narrow at me. “I want him dead. I have ten thousand American dollars in cash.”

Well, this isn’t quite how I imagined my night ending up. Fuck. I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. This angelic, little Italian girl who looks as though she would shrink from the sight of blood is asking me to kill a man. Her boyfriend.

“What’s his name?”

The intensity from her eyes finally drops as she glances away and murmurs the name. It’s so soft that I can barely hear it. “R-Rafael Costa.”

My insides blaze when I hear the name. I only know one Rafael Costa, and he’s in New York. He’s one of us—La Cosa Nostra. The new boss, Vincent, would chop my head off if I touched one of his made guys.

Disappointment settles in my guts like lead as I lift myself from the couch and grab a couple glasses along with a huge bottle of vodka.

I can’t help her. Fuck.

“Will you do it?”

I sit back down next to her, my eyes on her beautiful body. I imagine it sprawled on a floor somewhere, a hairline crack in her skull, a red pool of blood behind her head.

My jaw aches. Turning back to the table, I pour a couple glasses and press one into her questioning hands.

“Drink, sweetheart. You look like you could use it.”

Elena lets out a sigh and brings the drink to her lips. “You’re not wrong.”

Heat burns down my chest as I swallow the alcohol, the warmth glowing in my cock as her body jostles next to me. She drains the glass and reaches the bottle before I can pour her another. The crazy broad just takes it as if she owns it.

I like her already.

“Will you do it?”

I hate saying the next few words.

“He’s a made guy. I can’t.”

Elena’s face falls horribly for a moment right as she brings the second drink to her mouth. For a moment I’m horrified that she might cry, but the look disappears. She shrugs, indifferent.

“Whatever.”

Whatever. Yeah fucking right.

Fuck. I don’t want to know anything about this woman. I don’t want to feel sorry for her, and I shouldn’t want anything to do with her. She’s another guy’s girl, but he doesn’t respect her, so why should I respect his claim?

I catch a strand of her dark hair dangling in front of her face and twirl it in my finger before gently tucking it behind her ear. Her nostrils flare as I stroke the side of her cheek.

“I’m going to go.”

I catch her hand as she stands up. “No, come on. Stay.”

Elena tugs it out of my grasp, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

I don’t have the heart to lay more filthy lines on her, not when pity tightens my chest. I watch her leave the VIP lounge, her head still held high. It’s as though she’s not a victim.

Then I’m left uncomfortably alone with my thoughts. Instead of picking up another chick, I go home. I wander to my bedroom and lay flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

It’s the most empty moment of my day. I feel my heart beating, but nothing much else.