Page 13 of Marrying the Mobster
Will they?
About a hundred yards short of the wall, something slams into me from the side, throwing me to the ground. The weight lands on top of me, and all I can do is lay there and try to recover from the wind being knocked from me.
“Goddamn it! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Recognizing Diego’s voice, I find the strength to fight. The patrol guards with their rifles were frightening, and the thought of the other men living here are intimidating … but none of them make me as uneasy as Diego.
I try to squirm from beneath him, but he’s just as determined as I am, just as stubborn and unwilling to lose the fight. He rolls me onto my back, and I bring one knee up between his legs, producing a startled huff and an enraged growl from Diego. My shot to his balls isn’t enough to slow him down, because he keeps wrestling with me while swearing in a mixture of English and Spanish.
“Elena! Stop this before you hurt yourself! It’s over … I have you!”
“No!” I scream, swinging my fists as he crouches over me and uses his knees to pin my legs together. “Get off me, you asshole!”
One of my blows grazes his jaw, and with wide eyes, he takes hold of my wrist and pins it over my head. He dodges my other fist, securing my second hand just like he did the first. Despair has taken over at this point and I can’t stop fighting him even though I’ve been caught. I arch my back and twist one way and then the other, trying to loosen his grip.
Diego’s weight grows heavier, every hard inch of him flush against me. “Elena,” he says, gentler this time. “Stop it.”
For some reason, that’s more effective than his yelling. I go still, gasping for breath and sobbing, hot tears leaking from the corners of my eyes and into my hairline.
“Fuck you,” I cry, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head as if that can make this all go away. “Fuck you!”
“I know,” he croons, his lips skimming my forehead. “I know, Elena.”
What’s this? Tenderness from my captor? A moment of acknowledgment for how this business concerning my father is ruining my life?
“Let me go,” I beg. “I won’t tell anyone … I’ll make sure my dad gets you the money, just … please let me go.”
His nostrils flare as he pulls in a deep breath, and he slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry,gatita. This is how things have to be. It’ll go easier for you if you stop fighting.”
“Never,” I hiss, narrowing my eyes at him. “As long as you try to keep me in this house, I won’t stop trying to get out. I’ll make your life a living hell.”
Diego’s mouth softens into that almost-smile of his, and he chuckles. “You can try,gatita.” He sits up so he’s straddling me, arms folded over his chest. “Will you come quietly, or do I need to send someone for zip-ties?”
There’s nothing left to do but accept that I’ve been beaten this time around. It would be stupid for me to push my luck when I have no idea what the repercussions for this first rebellion will be. Better to bide my time.
“I’ll come quietly,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
Seeming satisfied with that, Diego stands and grabs my arm, hauling me up beside him. As he marches me back toward the house, I’m mortified to find a golf cart parked nearby with two other men sitting inside. One of them is Jovan. He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his smile wide beneath a pair of blacked-out aviator sunglasses. His shoulders quiver with laughter, and the man with him is shaking his head and choking back his own chuckles as they watch Diego approach with me in tow. Of course, there had to be witnesses to my embarrassing scene.
Diego shoves me in next to Jovan, before taking the front seat beside the driver. “Let’s go,” he barks.
The driver takes off, and within minutes we’ve come back to the fence line—where I watch Diego open a hidden doorway. There aren’t any latches or knobs, but a panel of the fenceposts swing open when he presses in a particular spot, allowing us into the yard.
“Enjoy your little adventure Rapunzel?” Jovan teases as we step down from the golf cart.
Following behind Diego, I wrinkle my nose at Jovan and flip him the bird.
8
Diego
Idon’t encounter my sister until hours after Elena’s escape attempt. Reviewing the security camera footage, I clearly saw Marcella speak to Elena, then pretend not to see her running for the fence. I’ve been in a foul mood all day—ever since my daily workout was interrupted by a phone call. I would have missed it if I hadn’t been taking a break between reps on the bench press. There wasn’t time to think; I ran from the workout room while barking orders on my phone, fury pushing aside muscle fatigue. The golf cart was waiting the second I stepped through a set of glass doors off the side of the house, with Jovan and one of my security team inside. Chasing Elena down was more of an annoyance than anything else, but I preferred it to having to search the island for her.
Everything I told her about the inescapable security of the island was true, but had she stumbled on the wrong person or found her way to the wrong house, she might have slipped right through my fingers.
Before locking Elena back in her room, I had that goddamn window boarded over from the inside, hopefully discouraging any further attempts at a risky, stupid, impressive escape. From there, I went off in search of the person partly responsible for my prisoner getting over that fence, but she had made herself scarce. I went about the rest of my day fuming over the incident and taking my anger out on everyone around me.
There’s still plenty of it left when Marcella appears in my private nook atCalentar. I spend at least three nights a week at my club—not to manage it; I have a business partner who keeps the music current, the specialty drinks interesting, and the dancers who work here plentiful and sexy. My position on the elevated balcony overseeing the first floor is for the convenience of cartel business. Anyone who wants an audience with me knows I can be found in this very spot Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. I’ve just finished approving a loan of five hundred thousand to the desperate owner of a shipping company—one that will see me better rewarded than the idiot agreeing to my terms. Control of the shipyards along the coast ensures easy entry for my cargo, so it pays to have a man like this in my debt.
