Page 37 of Impenitent Claim

The brutal honesty in his voice made me turn sharply. What kind of future mob boss hated fighting? “You do?”

He nodded. “Illegal fight clubs are barbaric. It might be the Twenty-First Century, but humankind still reverts to their baser, animal instincts. We say we’re so progressive? It’s a lie.”

I gave him a sad smile. “That’s very enlightened of you.”

A short breath blew from his nose. “The don would be so proud to hear his son discussing philosophy instead of mob politics.”

“I won’t tell.” I reached out and squeezed his arm.

The look he gave me was full of something raw and vulnerable. I held his stare, offering him what reassurance I could through the smallest of touches. Alonzo looked down at my hand, then back to my face. My mouth.

I held my breath as a sudden burn crept over my skin. There was no one else out here. And yet, I couldn’t shake the malicious feeling.

Smiling like an idiot, I dropped my hand and turned to look over the country club. The feeling didn’t leave.

The French doors behind us banged open. I flicked an annoyed glance at the swaggering gangster and his friends, who were lighting up cigarettes. Now that the peace was effectively ruined, it was time to go back into the chaos of the party.

“Come on,” I said, beginning to move back to the other set of doors.

“Why should we have to go?” Alonzo muttered.

I stifled a groan in my chest.Book smart, not street.

I was about to open my mouth and explain that these thugs weren’t our men and were likely dangerous to be around. If we were lucky, they would respect us because of the contracts signed by both dons, but they wouldn’t be opposed to a little fun at our expense. It was how mobsters amused themselves.

“What’s the matter? Does our presence offend you?” one of them called out.

His friends chuckled and murmured jabs.

“The lady shouldn’t have to tolerate your noxious smoke,” Alonzo countered.

Funny, I would kill for a drag right about now. Not that my fiancé could know his soon to-be lady wife indulged in theoccasional poison stick—when she could get her hands on one—to calm her nerves. “We’re going to find something to eat and—”

“Noxious smoke?” the Conti rumbled. “What the fuck does that mean, pig?”

Okay, it was time to go. Now. That man had several pounds of muscle on Alonzo, even though he wasn’t nearly as tall.

I rounded to stand in front of my fiancé. Leveling him with a hard look, I snapped, “Back inside.”

“Listen to your mama, little boy,” one of the friends called.

It all happened so fast.

Alonzo launched forward, the champion knight valiantly ready to defend my honor.

I blocked his path before heavy hands clamped around my waist.

“She wants to play too.” Moist spittle splayed across my cheek. The man hauled me back, his buddies advancing to intercept Alonzo.

My pulse roared in my ears. I kicked for everything I was worth. If I wasn’t in this damned dress, he would be sorry! I struggled, bucking and wriggling. My elbow jabbed back, but met with air. Cackles ensued over my pitiful attempt. So I tried again.

Heel connected with flesh.

A scream rang out, and my feet were stumbling back across the balcony.

I turned just in time to see the man who’d been holding me slump to the floor.

A familiar spectral form battled in the shadows. It was him. The stalker, the underground fighter, found me.

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