The Hitman's Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Snake Eyes Book 2) (15 page)

“Take a few of these,” I tell her, handing her the aspirin bottle.

She takes it and squints her eyes to read the label. “These are almost nine years expired.”

“Take it with this, then.” I drop a whiskey bottle on the couch next to her and grab another one off the shelf.

Her eyes narrow at me but she doesn’t argue. She twists the cap off the aspirin and throws two into her mouth along with a fast swig of whiskey. “Ugh…” Her face contorts in disgust.

“Atta girl.” I rip a sheet off the armchair across from her and plop down into it with my own bottle.

“What are we doing out here?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I have to go back home.”

I stare at her, drawing blanks. “Why?”

She looks down, almost ready to cry again but she holds it together. “Because they killed my father.”

Of course. Payback. It’d be my first instinct, too, but I know more than she does. “Don’t be stupid, Lucy. You wouldn’t last a second and we both know it.”

Her lips tighten. “Then what the hell are we doing out here?” She looks at me with expectation; like I’m a man with a plan. I wish I could tell her I had one but I can’t see passed the next few minutes right now.

“I’m going to go outside and see if I can get the generator started.” I push off the chair and walk towards the front door, grabbing the flashlight still hanging down from the key hooks. “Stay off the knee.”

She doesn’t say a word as I leave the room and step outside onto the porch. The air is clear and warm, far different than the thick air of Chicago. I’d almost forgotten how it felt out here. Fresh flowers growing everywhere. Small animals just wandering around. The constant sound of the lake lapping against the dock down the thick lawn. It all comes rushing back like a monstrous tidal wave.

I make my way around the house and follow the path of rocks towards the dock. The shed comes into view, nearly obscured by overgrown trees and thigh-high grass. I step inside and my nose gets invaded by the stench of mold and rotting wood.

The generator sits in the corner with a red gas can sitting beside it. I pick up the can and swish it around, happy to find that some gas still remains inside. I pour a healthy amount into the generator and yank at the string to bring it to life. It twitches, clicking loudly before settling back to silence. I pull it again. It revs a little but fails once more.

“Come on…” I hiss.

I ready my arm to pull again but pause as another distant revving sound hits my ears.

Fucking hell, Lucy.

I bolt out of the shed and race through the thicket towards the house. The headlights illuminate the dark driveway and I curse to myself for leaving the damn keys in the ignition. Suddenly, her spunky determination is a real fucking turn-off.

“Lucy!” I growl as I charge down the driveway, chasing the tail lights as fast as I can go. She speeds up and the car sways left and right to try and keep me from passing. I slap a hand on the trunk. “Stop the car, Lucy!”

She slams on the brake and I bash into the rear bumper before I can process the change in speed. I fall back and gravel kicks up at me as she tries to speed off again.

“Goddammit.”

I race off-road into the woods, picking up my pace to cut her off when she reaches the end of the drive. As she slows down to make the turn, I fling myself in front of the car and she brakes to avoid crashing into me.

“Get out!” I quickly rush to the door and throw it open before she can react. I blink at her position, noticing that her right leg is stretched out across the passenger’s seat while she operates both pedals with her left foot only.

“I’m going back!” she shouts.

“No, you’re not!”

“You can’t keep me here!”

“Yes, I can.” I reach over her lap to shift the car into park before wrapping my arms around her to pull her out.

“This is kidnapping!”

“Technically, I guess.” I slide the lever to pop the trunk open and throw her over my shoulder as I stand up. She wiggles in my grasp, nearly slipping off my back, so I tap her knee and she shrieks with pain. “Sit still.” I throw open the trunk and grab a gray canvas bag from inside before closing it again.

“Help!” she screams.
“Somebody please help me!”

“Bellow all you want, Lucy,” I say, smacking her ass. “The nearest neighbor is five miles away.”

“Help—”
I whack her again. “Stop that!”

“Stop screaming and I’ll consider it.” She punches my ribs and I spank her again, this time digging into her cheek with a hard squeeze.

“Ouch!”

“What’d I say?”

“You said to stop
screaming
.”

I sigh and strengthen my grip on her as we near the house. “Just stop everything, okay?”

“Asshole.”

I carry her up the stairs, this time not bothering to watch whether or not she strikes the wall. She hisses and growls at me and my lips curl as I take her down the hall to the master bedroom and toss her down onto the old bed. The iron frame squeaks as she bounces into place.

“Ow!” she seethes. “Be gentle!”

“Oh, we’re way passed gentle,
Ms. Vaughn
...” I zip open the gray bag and feel inside for the hard, metal rings.

She sees the handcuffs as I pull them out and her jaw drops. “No! Don’t you dare!”

I grab her left arm as she tries to roll away and slap one cuff onto her wrist, quickly clicking it tight against her skin. “Can’t say you didn’t ask for this…” I say, locking the other cuff around the ancient iron bars of the headboard.

She tugs against her restraint and tries to slip the cuff off her small wrist but it’s far too tight. “You can’t keep me locked up like this!”

“No?”

“No!”

“Says who?”

Lucy pulls at the cuff again, growling through her teeth. “I have
rights
, you know.”

“Too bad.”

“You’re
really
going to leave me here like this?”

I grin. “You’re actually pretty cute when you’re pissed off.” Rage washes over her eyes and she tugs at her wrist again, getting absolutely nowhere. I spin around. “Now, stay put like I told you.”

“Fuck you.”

I head back outside and walk down the driveway to retrieve the car. This time, I take the keys with me and lock the damn doors after I park beside the house.

Christ. I knew she was hell-bent on revenge but I didn’t think she’d be so stupid about it. If Snake Eyes taught me anything, it’s that you never make a decision based on emotion in a single moment. You wait. You plan. You choose the correct strategy before ever taking the first step. Going after the Zappia family isn’t the kind of thing you just jump into without careful thought and planning first.

Hell. It’s probably best avoided altogether but that’s never stopped me before.

It won’t stop her either.

Chapter 14

Lucy

The lights flicker on overhead. I guess that jackass got the generator running.

I try to think of every action movie I’ve ever seen. There’s always that one scene where someone dislocates their thumb to get out of handcuffs. I usually turn away at that point because even that small popping sound effect is enough to make me cringe but now, I’m kind of pissed I didn’t pay more attention. That information would have come in handy right about now.

There’s no way I’m slipping out of this cuff. It’s too tight and I’m too squeamish to hurt myself. This old bed is
solid
. These iron bars aren’t bending and the entire frame was welded together so it’s not breaking for me anytime soon.

I focus my hearing as the front door opens downstairs and I hear his boots tapping against the floor. Dante Hart. Fucking psychopath. First, he kicks me out of his bed with zero explanation. Then, he strangles a man right in front of me. Then, he comes back, pulls me out of a burning building, and brings me out to the middle of fucking nowhere to a house he supposedly used to live in.

He climbs the stairs. I see him reach the top down the hall and I pause as he drifts closer to the doorway. His eyes shift in his head, wandering around in search for something.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Dante moves towards the dresser in the corner. “I’m looking for some clothes,” he says, pulling the top drawer open.

I push against the mattress to try and get a better look inside but he slides it closed to move on to the next one down. “For who?”

“For you.” He grabs something black and holds it up. A skirt. Long and wrinkled. I cringe as he tosses it over his shoulder to keep it. “Unless you
want
to sit around in that leotard forever.”

“Is that how long you intend to keep me here?”

“It’s just an expression, Lucy.” He turns around and throws open the closet door. “You can leave once it’s safe for you to do so.”

“I’m not in any danger.”

“Yes, you are.”

“From who?”

“From
you
.”

I roll my eyes and look over his shoulder as he sifts through the various shirts hanging in the closet. “Who’s clothes are these?” He pulls a hanger out, along with a horrendous white and gray striped blouse.
“Ew. No…
” I point around him. “The red one.”

He throws the blouse back in and slides the red one off the hanger. “They’re my grandmother’s,” he answers, walking towards the bed.

“Where is she?”

“She’s dead.” He tosses them down next to my feet, his face as blank as canvas.

“Sorry,” I mutter. His shoulders bounce and he wanders to the vanity in the corner. He sifts through the drawers until he finds a large pair of scissors inside. “What are those for?”

Dante’s lips curl and he snaps the blades twice. “Well, I can’t exactly un-cuff you to get that leotard off, now can I?”

I stare up at him, anger returning to my cheeks. “I can dress
myself
, thank you.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before, Lucy.” He steps forward and reaches for my left foot, drawing it closer to the edge of the bed. “Don’t move. I wouldn’t want to accidentally scissor you.”

I sit still as he slips a finger along my left ankle, gently pulling at my tights to slide the scissors in. They tear apart easily as he moves the sharp blades upward. His fingers trail up my leg and I do my best not to twitch at his warm, gentle touch. The scissors reach the top and he pauses before shifting around to my right ankle.

“This will hurt a little,” he warns, glancing at my knee.

I inhale a sharp breath as he lays a hand on my foot and pushes the scissors beneath my tights. He moves slowly, twice as slow as he did on the other side, but my leg still jolts as the fabric peels away from my bloody skin. I wince as the blades reach the knee and Dante pauses to look up at me.

“Go ahead,” I say, gripping the bedspread with my free hand.

He lifts my tights and I clench my eyes shut as red bleeds into my vision. His hands move quickly, peeling the fabric while slicing across until it’s all cleared away.

“Fuck…”
I bite my lip.

“It’s done,” he says, pulling the ruined tights out from under my knee. “Lie back.”

I slide down, letting my left leg control me as I settle against the old pillows.

Dante takes the scissors again and snaps away at the tight elastic around my waist, freeing it completely before tossing it to the floor. He lays his hand on my abdomen, sliding his hand down to my groin to fish his fingers beneath the crotch of my leotard. I press my lips together to keep from sighing as my body recalls his sensual touch on my skin. My heart leaps and my body begs for him to touch me like he did last night.

I push the thoughts away as I feel the slow snip of his scissors carving away at it. His fingertips leave a trail up my skin as he goes, sending shocks of pleasure throughout my core.

“Lucy.”

“What?”

“Relax.”

I blink. “I’m fine.”

“Then
breathe
.”

My body jolts and I force in a breath. “Oh.”

Dante smiles as he cuts the fabric between my breasts and slides the scissors up the rest of the way. He moves to my arms next and destroys them along the seams before throwing the shredded leotard to the floor next to my tights.

Cold air strikes my naked skin and he reaches for the skirt at my feet. “No pants?” I ask.

“Not unless you want them constantly grazing your knee,” he points out, moving down the slide the loose skirt up my legs. “Skirt is easier.”

I pause, realizing how right he is. It hadn’t even occurred to me before he said it. I push off the bed as he fits the skirt over my thighs.

Dante grabs the blouse and pauses with his eyes on my cuffs.

I lean forward. “Didn’t think this part through, did you?” He glares at me, his brain working to come up with a way of dressing me without un-cuffing me. “Look, I promise I won’t run off again,” I say, meaning it. I jingle the cuff against the iron bar. “This is
really
unnecessary.”

He eyes me for a moment more before sliding a hand into his jeans pocket and pulling out a small, silver key.