Page 73 of Mafia Captor

I’m happy for the long ride back to the estate. I need the time to think. Every so often, I sneak looks at Beckett. He’s fallen asleep against the window. I reach over, moving a lock of hair from his forehead. When he’s sleeping like this, he looks so peaceful. So innocent. Like all those stories he told me were tall tales.

But I know they’re true.

He’s right. I do have special rose-colored glasses on when it comes to him. I’m okay with that. Boston and Beckett are my good bad boys and I’ll always have their backs.

I think of Boston’s warning voice, telling me not to walk out the door.

A nervous flutter comes to my stomach, wondering what fate awaits me at home.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Boston

I hearher before I see her, her laugh echoing down the hall. It’s her giggly laugh, the one she has when she’s been drinking wine. I usually love the sound. It’s fucking adorable.

Tonight?

I’m pissed.

I understand she needed space to think, to breathe. It was healthy for her to have time alone to talk to Becks. God knows the two had enough to talk about.

But to leave me, sitting by myself, without even a backward glance?

Then, to have me pace my floors for hours while I call and re-call her dead phone. Sure, I’ve got trackers all over her, in her phone, her ring, her purse, the heels of her shoes. Of course I had a driver follow the cab she rode in. I wouldn’t be a Bachman if I hadn’t. And yes, Becks was sneaking me text updates the entire time but still…

I’m pissed.

She enters my room, tossing her purse into the armchair by the door. She does a little pirouette, humming to herself. “Dun, dun, da, dun.”

It’s Carol of the Bells.

Fuck.

I feel my anger dissipating. I try to cling to it, to hold on to it as it wisps away like curls of smoke. She’s just too damn cute.

My voice rumbles through the room, letting her know I’m here. “I told you not to walk out that door.”

“Oh!” She turns with surprise, her lips in that “O” that makes blood pulse below my belt. “You’re here.”

“Yes. I’m here. Where you should have been.”

“I had to talk to Beckett, Beck, The Beckster—you know that.” She throws her hands on her hips. “He had a lot of secrets to spill. Ones you should have told me.”

“They weren’t mine to share,” I say.

“Yeah, true.” She smiles, throwing her arms around my neck. She stands on the balls of her feet for a kiss. “Kiss me.”

Stay strong. Don’t fall for this cuteness. Show her who’s boss. “Did you have to walk out on me without a backward glance? Did you hear me say, don’t walk out that door?”

“Hmm. I think I remember something about that.” She bops me on the nose with the tip of her finger. “You’re sooo cute when you’re mad.”

My hands run down her back, cupping her ass and squeezing it. Her eyes flutter closed and she leans against me. She’s like a kitten being petted when you touch her ass. My fingers dig into the cleft of her ass, grabbing her harder.

She moans, her breasts pushing against me. She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me deeper. I pull away.

“There is one way you can make it up to me, babygirl.”

“What’s that?” She gives a lazy smile.

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