9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

ELIO

I lean against the sleek hood of my Jaguar, watching the movement through the large windows that line the front of the MMA gym. I’m paranoid that Orion is going to slip out and take off without me noticing. I wouldn’t put it past him to leave me standing here all night, looking like an idiot. I suppose I could hunt him down if he did, drive to his place and pound on his door this time. Or maybe I would find him at that nursing home he’s always visiting. Does he volunteer there? Something tells me that isn’t it, but digging up the details of who he might be going to see six nights a week feels like a step too far. Borderline stalking him is bad enough, but I can’t pretend I regret it.

The point is, I can easily find him if he decides to give me the slip, but I don’t want to. I didn’t pay off his debt just so he would come after me, but it was certainly an added bonus. How many other ways can I piss him off and get him to chase me around the city in a fit of rage?

A hot tremor rocks through me at the idea, and I grin to myself.

I catch sight of Orion through the window. He looks pissed, which I’m starting to realize seems to be his default. Maybe the scowl is more armor than threat, but I don’t know him well enough to be sure yet. I want to, though. I want to peel off his mask and see what’s underneath, even if it’s only more justifiable rage. His hair is loose and damp, hanging over his shoulders as he strides through the gym with long, purposeful steps. He’s mesmerizing, ethereal, fucking gorgeous, and terrifying all at once. It’s laughable now that I spent ten minutes worrying he’d slip out without me noticing him. I couldn’t miss Orion if I tried. My eyes are drawn to him like he has his own gravitational pull.

He gathers his hair into a messy knot on top of his head, not breaking his stride as he ties it up out of his face and off his shoulders, using his elbow to push through the door when he reaches it. I hold my breath as he steps out into the night, and his gaze snaps to mine, like he can’t escape the pull any more than I can.

I push myself up off the car and jerk my head towards the passenger side. Orion gives a stilted nod and grunts before going around and climbing in. I slide in after him, the smell of his bargain-brand shampoo filling the small space in a matter of seconds. It’s something floral and too sweet, offensively covering up the scent of sweat and adrenaline I’ve started to crave smelling on him after a fight.

“So where are we going?” he asks as I pull out of the parking lot. His tone is gruff, but without the usual edge. Am I starting to wear him down a little? Not much, hopefully. I don’t want him domesticated, I just want him tame enough to keep. Actually, I don’t need that either. I want him to want me. Outside of that, he can stay as feral as he likes.

“You’ll see,” I answer with a smirk, drawing a predictable, rumbling growl of frustration from him. The sound vibrates over my skin and hardens my cock. “Who was the kid you were sparring with tonight?” I ask, changing the subject. He arches an eyebrow questioningly and I shrug. “I might have been watching for a few minutes before I came in.”

Orion’s quiet for a second before he answers. “Fitz Morgan. He’s a good kid, hardworking, with a good head on his shoulders. Don’t go dragging him into your mob shit.”

“Hey, whoa.” I take my hands off the wheel for a split second to hold them up in surrender. “Who said anything about that? I was just making conversation. He’s scrappy. Good form, too.”

He grunts, then clears his throat. “He is,” he says. “You know, he wanted to be a doctor, but he decided he couldn’t afford the tuition. Then his mom got sick, and he’s looking at having to take on his two younger brothers. He’s been training his ass off, earning some money in street fights to put food on the table. He’s hoping to go pro and make enough to really set them up.”

Orion stares out the passenger window, the lights from the passing buildings flickering across his face, his hand resting on the door handle like he’s not sure yet whether he might need to fling the door open and tuck and roll at any second. It’s the most words I’ve ever heard him string together at one time, a mixture of anger and sympathy for Fitz dripping from each and every one of them.

“I’m sorry he has to deal with all that. Life deals out some shit hands, doesn’t she?”

He scoffs, then mutters, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

My fingers twitch around the steering wheel, and our destination comes into view up ahead. Maybe this was a bad idea. There are at least even odds that this will blow up in my face. Of course, that means there’s an equal chance that I’ll manage to change the way Orion sees me. Here’s hoping it’ll be for the better.

I pull into the parking lot, and he sits up straighter in his seat, squinting through the windshield as if he’s sure he’s seeing things wrong.

“You brought me to a motel?” His voice dips lower. “Is this how you’re planning to collect on the rest of what I owe you?” The familiar irritation in his tone is laced with just enough amusement that I wonder if I was right earlier, if he really is starting to hate me a tiny bit less than he did before.

He looks over at me, and I notice a savage hunger in his gaze that matches the one gnawing at the pit of my stomach. Whether he still hates me or not, he definitely wants to fuck me. I can work with that. Unfortunately, that’s not what we’re here for.

“Are you open to that option?” I tease, already knowing the answer.

He grunts again, and I chuckle. Yup, that’s exactly the response I was expecting. Orion might not realize it, but I know him. I see all the hard, angry edges, and the rigid morals that hold them in place.

“We’re not here to fuck.” I ease into a parking spot near the back of the lot. Even in the dark, without a single streetlamp illuminating the lot, I can tell my car sticks out like a sore thumb. That’s okay though, we won’t be staying long.

“Why are we here then?”

My original plan was to find Orion at the gym tonight and pitch him the idea of helping out with The Starlight project. But the closer I got, the more sure I was that he would tell me to fuck off again. I need him to trust me first.

“I’m going to show you something that might make you hate me a little less,” I confess, hoping I’m right. I get out of the car, and I can hear Orion laughing as he does the same.

“Why do you care if I hate you?” He rests his arms on the roof of the car once he climbs out. I can’t see his expression in the dark, but he sounds curious and amused.

“If you don’t know the answer to that, you may want to consider taking fewer blows to the head on a regular basis.”

He huffs another laugh, coming around the back of the car to meet me. “What I meant is that it seems like you get off on the way I hate you.”

We’re close enough now that I can see his face. His eyebrows are pulled together and his eyes roam over my face like he’s studying me. My cock swells at the thought of the heated look in his eyes before he put me over his knee and spanked me like a brat the other night.

“You might have a point there,” I mutter, swaying a little closer to him, but still not touching him.

“Ever consider seeing a therapist about that?” Orion asks blandly, arching one eyebrow.

I smirk. “Nope.”

Orion snorts with amusement and turns his gaze away from my face, leaving me feeling off balance. He looks towards the rundown motel a few yards away, half the letters in the sign burned out, the smell of booze and sex heavy in the air even from here.

“Alright, show me then.”

ORION

Elio’s arm brushes against mine as we make our way through the unlit parking lot towards the motel. There’s a heavy feeling in the air, like we’re being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I let the surge of adrenaline keep me alert, on my toes, my eyes moving at all times, on the lookout for movement. The urge to put an arm around Elio’s shoulders and pull him close nearly makes me laugh. If there’s anyone who doesn’t need my protection, it’s the man next to me. But the impulse to protect him anyway refuses to release its grip on my insides.

The orange lights of the motel finally reach us, and Elio steers us around the side of the building. He clearly knows where he’s going, so I follow him, alert to the muffled sound of moans coming from several rooms and the used needles I have to step over on the sidewalk. Around the corner, there are two out-of-order vending machines, with several girls gathered around in front of them. And by girls, I mean girls . There’s no way they’re older than fourteen, maybe even younger. All three of them are skinny, wearing skimpy clothing and the kind of blank looks I’ve seen too many times in my life.

“Jesus,” I mutter, bile rising in my throat.

Elio huffs through his nose and picks up his pace when the girls notice us.

“Hey, mister,” the smallest of the three says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She has an accent. Russian maybe? “Looking for company?”

“Not tonight,” Elio answers with a softness in his voice that makes my chest feel heavy. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “How old are you, bambina ?”

“Old enough,” the blond girl behind the small one answers with the same subtle accent, and an edge of defiance that gives me a little spark of hope for her.

“I doubt that,” Elio mutters. He pulls out three hundred-dollar bills and they all eye the money warily, no doubt wondering what exactly they’ll be asked to do for that amount of cash.

My stomach roils again, and the urge to put myself between him and the girls rises, even though I don’t think he’s here to hurt them. How many times was I in exactly their position though? Hungry and desperate, with predators closing in on all sides. If it hadn’t been for Jack, I might have ended up standing out here at this same motel, offering up whatever I had to for a few bucks. My bones feel like they’re vibrating, and I clench my hands into fists at my sides.

“What do you want?” the third girl pipes up to ask, her gaze fixed on the bills in Elio’s hand.

“Tell me who’s in charge around here, then take the money and get the hell out of here,” he says.

The first girl looks at him skeptically. “What do you want with Daddy?”

A strangled sound rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. Daddy ? Fucking hell, these poor girls. Elio’s face hardens too, darkening into something dangerous and threatening that I haven’t seen before. It’s the kind of expression I’ve always assigned to people like him in my mind, an unmistakable threat that reminds you to steer clear of them. Until now, I’ve never seen anything but amusement or lust in his eyes, and maybe this new expression should cement all the terrible things I thought about him, long before we ever met in person. But it does exactly the opposite.

“Daddies don’t pimp out their little girls, bambina,” Elio says. “And they don’t leave bruises like that on them either.” I follow his gaze to the deep purple bruise on the small girl’s upper arm. “I’m guessing he’s in one of these rooms? That way he can keep an eye on you and collect his money, right?” He waves the bills and cranes his neck to look down the row of rooms.

The girls share a look with each other, communicating wordlessly with wide-eyed looks and shakes of their heads.

“We can’t leave. He’ll… do bad things to us,” the third girl says after a moment.

“I promise you, he won’t,” Elio insists before reaching into his pocket again and pulling out three more bills. “Point me to his room, take the cash, and don’t look back.”

The blond steps from behind the small girl and snatches the money out of Elio’s grasp. “Room twelve,” she says.

“Thank you,” Elio says politely. “Mel’s Diner is a few blocks away, down Second Street. Tell him Elio Moretti sent you, and he’ll hook you up with some free food. He might even have some jobs available washing dishes. It’s not glamorous, but it’s not… this .” He gestures at the motel. The small girl nods, then all three of them back away until they reach the corner and take off running.

I watch them go until they’re too far away for me to even see their silhouettes in the dark.

“Jesus,” I murmur again.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s go pay Daddy a visit.” Elio turns, then hesitates, looking at me over his shoulder. “If you want, you can wait in the car.”

My pulse is still rushing in my ears from everything that’s happened already. None of this feels as real as it should, and I have a feeling I know exactly what’s going to happen next. Elio’s giving me an out. If I don’t want to face it, if I don’t want to see what he really is with my own two eyes, I can sit it out.

I swallow and shake my head. Maybe he’s right. Maybe seeing this will make me hate him less. Or maybe it’ll be exactly the slap in the face I need to remind me what kinds of monsters the Morettis really are. Either way, I feel like I need to see this through.

When we reach room twelve, Elio knocks daintily on the door, the gentle rap completely at odds with the thunder written all over his face, his other hand already tucked under his suit jacket, no doubt wrapped around his gun. It only takes a second before the door swings open. Daddy probably assumed it was one of his girls. A sick satisfaction swells inside of me when his eyes go wide at seeing Elio instead.

He grabs the man by the collar with one hand, pulling out his gun with the other and shoving the pimp into the room. I follow behind, closing the door behind us on the way in. The man stumbles to the floor, scrambling to get back to his feet immediately until Elio cocks his gun and points it at the man’s head.

“Stay,” Elio says coolly. “Frank Corrigan. I should have known you were the one selling ass out of this rat trap these days.”

Frank cowers on the ground with his hands up, his posture submissive, the hard rage in his eyes anything but that.

“What the fuck do you want? I pay up every month, just like I’m supposed to. I thought that was the deal to keep you fucking vultures off of me,” he grumbles.

I glance around the room. The place is a dump, but I’d bet money it’s a hell of a lot nicer than wherever he keeps the girls when they’re not working. There’s a greasy takeout bag on the bed and a pile of cash on the nightstand.

Elio tsks through his teeth. “The deal is that you pay your taxes, like every good little boy and girl in Wildcliff. But, Frankie, that doesn’t mean that the powers that be—i.e., me —won’t pop in for a surprise inspection every once in a while.”

“An inspection?”

“That’s right. And it turns out you’ve been very bad, Daddy . We made it clear when we sold you a business license that there were rules. Selling ass is one thing, but peddling underage girls or pimping out anyone who’s unwilling is strictly against the terms of our agreement.” Everything about his body language is pure rage, from the grip on his gun to the uneven draw of his breaths, but his voice is as steady as a surgeon’s hand.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Frank scoffs. “It’s supply and demand. The pervs around here want young pussy, and I’m just a businessman doing my best to deliver.”

“That really the best defense you’ve got?” Elio asks in a bored voice, taking a step forward and pressing the barrel of the gun to Frank’s forehead. “Tell me where you got the girls, and I’ll let you go with a warning. Of course, our original agreement will be off, and if I catch you pimping anyone out again, of age or not, then I will kill you.”

Frank squirms on his knees, his eyes darting to me like he expects me to save him. Would I if I could? Doubtful.

“If I tell you, I’m dead anyway,” he reasons.

“Fair enough.” Elio shrugs, then pulls the trigger.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but the pop of the gun makes me jump. I whirl away before I can really take in the sight of Frank’s blood splattering the wall behind him or the way his lifeless body slumps to the ground.

Elio tucks his gun away, then grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room, the smell of blood and gunpowder sticking in my throat. I’m in a daze as he leads me back to the car, pulling out his phone to make a call on the way. He speaks quietly to whoever’s on the other end of the line, telling them the location before hanging up.

“Were you calling the police?” I ask, feeling numb by the time we reach his car.

He chuckles. “No. I was calling for one of my guys to come clean this up and dump the body.”

“Oh.” I nod and lean against the hood of the car.

He steps between my legs, moving in close until he’s pressed up against me. I feel like I should flinch away. I just watched him shoot a man in cold blood. But for all the chaos swirling inside of me, all the disgust and shock, none of it is aimed at Elio.

“Those three girls probably weren’t the only ones. Even if he’d given up whoever had sold them to him, he would have kept pimping the others out. Maybe he would have moved to a new city to stay off our radar, or switched motels, but he wasn’t about to have a ‘come to Jesus’ moment and give up the easy money that came along with abusing them,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I know.” I drag in a slow breath, feeling steadier with each passing second. “I know,” I say again more firmly the second time. “He was…” I shake my head, not having a strong enough word to brand a man like that with.

Elio’s eyes bore into mine, a flicker of something that looks like relief passing through them in the darkness. He nods. “I’m not going to tell you that my family are a bunch of saints. We make our living on the wrong side of the law. We leave a trail of blood and bodies in our wake when we have to. It’s ugly. But there are much sicker people in this city than us.” He drags his fingertips along my cheek, and I lean into his touch automatically, the healing cut on my jaw itching with the near glance. “We’re the monsters that keep this city from being even worse than it is.”

A confusing tangle of emotions knots in my gut, too much to sort out right here and now. It’s so much easier to keep hating Elio and everything he stands for. It’s supposed to be easier, anyway. But even that burning rage that’s become a comforting presence in my chest whenever he’s around doesn’t feel quite the same as it did an hour ago.

I snag his belt with two fingers and tug at him, even though it’s impossible to pull him any closer. His chest is already right up against mine, his hips pressed to mine, our faces only an inch apart. I let my eyes roam over his face up close like this, seeing him clearly for the first time. There are faint bags under his eyes, like he wouldn’t know the meaning of a good night’s sleep if it slapped him in the face, and a faint scar over his left eyebrow that I’m tempted to brush my lips against for some reason.

Elio doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t move. He just lets me stare at him for so long it should be awkward. But the feelings that squirm and pulse inside of me are anything but that. Sizzling tendrils of anger that took root decades ago and never quite fizzled out, a hungry feeling that settles heavily between my legs and becomes more insistent with every passing second and needy look from Elio, and an entire writhing heap of other things that I would probably need therapy to sort out.

I’m desperate for something to ground me, something simple to wrap my hands around and take control of. Something uncomplicated and easy to understand. Elio’s next exhale flutters against my lips, and I’m moving before the conscious decision to do so registers in my brain.

Elio lets out a surprised gasp, the sound muffled by my mouth crashing into his, rough and ravenous, hungry for the taste of him. My heart beats so hard that I’m sure he can feel it pounding against his chest, just like I can feel the vibration of his next stifled moan in mine. He sags into me, melting under my touch. The intoxication of him submitting with barely a flick of my tongue against the seam of his lips makes my head spin and my dick throb.

I want to tangle my fingers in his hair and force him to his knees, I want to drag him over my lap and spank his ass red again, and I want to kiss him so hard and deep that he can’t remember how to breathe on his own.

I run my tongue along the crease of his lips again, catching his next moan and growling into his mouth as I shove my tongue inside. His mouth is soft and pliant, his tongue sweetly addictive as it tangles with mine, giving me everything I demand, then dancing away to tease me. I was right about Elio, he’s a brat through and through, getting off on winding me up just to see how rough I’ll get with him.

I bite his bottom lip, and he hisses and then groans, jerking his hips to grind his hard cock against mine. I can feel the heat of his arousal, the shape of his eager, throbbing cock through the thin layers of clothing between us.

A coil of tension inside my chest unravels, and I slide one hand around the back of his neck to hold him close, to tilt his head back and explore more of his mouth. Licking deeper, biting harder, swallowing and savoring every shiver and groan Elio feeds me.

I break the kiss, and he gasps the same way he did when our mouths first connected, like the shock of the kiss ending is just as startling as the idea that I would kiss him in the first place.

“Give me a ride home.” It’s not a question, it’s a command, and another flutter of relief relaxes his face, his damp lips parting on a sigh and his eyelids drooping.

“Yes, Boss.”