Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Jake

Jesus fucking Christ.

I'm going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

I'm kneeling next to her, one of my hands near the floor, my fist clenching and unclenching as I try to control the rage that is coursing through me.

Tears fall across Nia's cheeks, and I gently brush them away, keeping my touch on her skin light. Easy.

I'm not supposed to be this invested. It's day two for Christ's sake, but she's this mix of strong and vulnerable that is pulling me, literally and figuratively, to my knees.

Toni is taking this beautiful, fragile woman and he's breaking her. I fucking hate it. At the end of this, I'm supposed to let her go. Let her return to her family. Or let her run knowing that the Italians will catch her. She doesn't have the skill to hide from them.

I've got this whole life planned. Start a business. Leave this life. Step away from the darkness that consumed my father, my brother. I can't be her hero .

But the idea of what the Carcettis might do to her after, I can't pretend I don't care.

I've watched abuse. My father, the stupid fuck— I cut the thought short. I will not make this about him.

This is about Toni. But I can still promise Nia this… I'm going to rip Toni Carcetti to shreds.

"Sweetheart," I say in a hoarse whisper, working toward calm. Like I said, my dad was a gangster. By the time I was sixteen, he had me stealing, hustling. By the time I was twenty, I'd shot a man after a bad deal. I know how to be tough when I need to be and I'm not afraid of killing a man.

But Nia's words slay me. I can see the shame in her eyes and feel it deeply. Nia and I are connected, we understand each other in ways I never expected. In some ways, she understands me better than my nephews even, and that scares the shit out of me.

I don't do relationships. Intimacy. I like to believe it's because I'm too hard. But watching her tears, I admit the truth. It's because I'm too weak.

"Promise," she repeats. "That you won't tell."

The whole point of me learning this shit is to tell my family and bring Toni down. "Nia. I can't?—"

"Please."

I hear the desperation in her voice, and it twists my gut into a knot. My loyalty is not to her, I repeat in my head, but my chin dips to my chest as I stare at the floor.

Gently, she reaches over and touches my hand. "I don't want anyone to know, ever," she says, her words breaking as she speaks them. Or is that the sound of my nerves? Christ. She's cutting me to pieces. "I'm so weak," the words echoing my thoughts, make me flinch, "the only thing I could do was run. And I couldn't even do that…" She turns away and tosses her good arm over her eyes.

A protest rumbles in my throat as my head snaps back up. She survived. She got out. How can she think of herself as helpless?

As awful as I feel for her, I'm also a man, and my objections come to a jarring halt, as I catch sight of her with her arm like that. She's arrayed like Venus.

Her curves are killer and I give my head a shake to clear these thoughts. Instead, I trace another bruise. "You were doing a very admirable job of running away. The fact that Gris Smith is a two-timing bitch is hardly your fault."

"Two-timing bitch?" she whispers but her arm slides from her eyes up over her head so she can turn to look at me again. "He is, isn't he?"

It's a real conundrum because the new position plumps her breasts even more and they are absolutely fantastic.

I don't know why Antonia thinks it's a personal failure that she can't stand up against a hardened criminal who probably outweighs her by a hundred pounds. But I'm big, tough, and I've been part of this world for a long time. I am more than a match for Toni and that fucker is going to pay hard.

"He's too pretty to be trustworthy," I follow up, just trying to ease some of the tension. She can give some of her worries to me. There is a lot I can't promise but I can do this…

I'm going to take all that pain for her. My shoulders are broad enough to handle it and then some.

It works, as she gives me a soft smile in return. "He does look like a human Ken doll."

A chuckle falls from my lips. "Might have made a cute couple considering your resemblance to Barbie."

Her nose wrinkles. "I'm not even close to thin enough."

I fucking love her curves but it's really better if I don't get that specific. Instead, I touch her arm. "Let me have a look at that shoulder."

She shifts and I try very hard to keep my eyes on her face, only sliding my gaze down her neck, and over to her shoulder where new bruises are blooming. "Shit," I mutter. I meant what I said. If she's hurt, we're leaving.

We've got a house not that far from here, fifty miles, and there is a chopper at the ready. I will airlift her out of here if I have to.

Roman is at the house, acting as liaison, while Luke is feet on the ground in Vegas keeping tabs on Toni. Mason and Leo have left with their brides.

We thought about bringing Nia to the family compound that boasts thick walls and a small army of guards. But here, in this tiny house, I've got way more opportunity to really crack her shell, find out what she knows.

I'm regretting the choice now. In this moment, I want her safe even more than I want to know what she knows.

I gently take her forearm. "I'm just going to test your shoulder slowly. You tell me if I need to stop."

She gives a tentative nod and I slowly raise her arm. I've done my fair share of on-the-scene emergency medical care. Another side benefit of being a legit mob man. I know how to tend wounds.

The shoulder seems all right. It moves just as it should, her winces small. Likely, she just bruised it.

I let out a long breath of relief.

"If we left here, where would we go?"

I know what she's asking. She's searching for a way out. Who can blame her? I did steal her. "Family compound," I answer, wanting to make sure she understands she's not getting away, though part of me hates crushing her hopes.

She's been powerless and I just took more of her power. What a fucked-up situation. It's my fault and my doing but I feel myself becoming the one man I never wanted to be. The bad guy.

She winces again and turns away, pulling at the plastic curtain to cover her body.

I place my hand over hers, stilling her movement. Because I can't leave things like this.

She whips her face back, her eyes meeting mine as her blonde hair spills over the side of the mattress and rests on my knee.

"I meant what I said," I start, my teeth gnashing together in my frustration. "When your father is in prison," or dead , I add mentally, "all the choices are yours."

She shakes her head. "Maybe."

"You don't think I'll keep my word? "

My fingers are lightly circling her wrist, the softness of her belly under my hand. Fuck, she feels so good. Silky skin. A body lean enough to look amazing without being so hard, that it's not feminine.

She's absolutely perfect.

"Even if you do everything you say," and her voice lets me know it's questionable. "There are seven cousins waiting to be the next Toni. And me? I'll be the woman who betrayed the family. I had one choice. Run."

My mouth opens to tell her I can help her with that after, if it's what she really wants. I don't even know if I'm lying. But she's not done. "And they might have let me go when I hadn't betrayed them. But your announcement of our engagement, it makes me a target."

My head dips and my eyes close because I know she's right. I really have trapped her. I knew this already, but it felt different when I didn't know her. Didn't have the feel of her skin imprinted on my nerve endings. When I thought of her as some mafia princess and not as a beautifully strong woman who has been hurt by Toni too. Maybe hurt by him the most.

Who I am hurting. Fuck. I came here to protect women. Kim. Charlotte. I'm never going to be the man who marries. I'm not the one who builds the empire. But I am the general who defends it. And then I am the man who gets out before it's too late. Before the darkness closes in.

It was just never supposed to be a war against an innocent.

"Let me help you dress." I get up, feeling restless. I'm going to have to work out again. I usually don't even like working out once. I'm just naturally muscular. But with Nia around, I'm crawling out of my skin. I have all this pent-up energy that's just looking for an outlet. Add my absolute need to beat her father into a bloody pulp and I'm ready to do a few rounds in the ring.

"I'm all right," she says, but doesn't move. Letting out the smallest sigh, because touching her isn't going to help, I peel back the rest of the wet shower curtain, pulling the covers up over her body instead. I try not to note the freckle on her hip, the curve of her ass, the dark hair between her legs …

Pushing up, I cross the room and open the closet, a wide array of female clothing hangs on the rod.

"What is that?" she says from her spot on the bed. I make the mistake of looking back at her. She looks just as good from afar, I swear, the roundness of her breasts and hips, her narrow waist on full display underneath the sheet.

I turn back to the closet, trying to cover the fact that my cock just got rock hard. "What is what?"

"All that clothing."

"They're yours," I answer with a small smile.

"They are not mine. I brought two changes of clothes because that was all I could successfully hide in the bushes."

I pull out a dress, spaghetti straps, with a simple floral pattern. Exactly what she likes. Roman helped me with the sizes, not that I'm telling Nia that. But I chose the pattern. It's white with small blue daisies, the exact color I remembered her eyes to be. "I think you're going to need more than two outfits."

She sits up, holding the sheet to her chest, "You really did prepare for this."

My hand clenches on the hanger, we're back to that. I didn't realize just how shitty I was going to feel about what I'd done, taking her like that. What a fucking time to develop a conscience.

"I wanted you to be comfortable." It's lame and I know it.

"I'd like to finish my shower," she says quietly. "Do you think you could clean out the snake?"

"Of course," I answer, carefully laying the dress on the bed. Heading into the bathroom, I remove the evidence, and wash out the shower. I rehang the tension rod then return to the bedroom to get the wet curtain from the floor and rehang it.

She appears with the sheet wrapped around her, her hair gathered over one shoulder. Fuck me, she looks so good, I just want to touch her again, run my hand over her skin.

I want to trace those marks on her body and make them disappear.

I underestimated how tempting being trapped in a small house with a beautiful woman was going to be .

"Shower is ready," I say, my voice rougher than I intended. She steps closer to me, large blue eyes staring up at me with worry shining in them as she nips at her lip.

I want to pull her close so badly my hands itch and I dig my fingertips into my palms. "Will you…" She starts, her gaze darting away. "I'm feeling really anxious…" She shifts, and I can't fight my need to touch her anymore.

I reach a hand up and lightly grasp her shoulder. "What is it you need, sweetheart?"

I feel her tremble. Does she have any idea what she's doing to me? This need to comfort her, protect her, is pulling me as tight as a stringed bow. This is what I wanted, to earn her trust. But somehow, I'm slipping into my web too. I want to protect her as much as I want her to confide in me. "Will you stay right outside the bathroom?"

In answer, my hand still on her shoulder, I reach into the shower and turn on the water. When it's warm enough for her to step in, I finally ease back toward the door, turning my back to her. I don't close the door.

"Want to hear a story about my father?" I ask.

"All right," I hear the sheet drop to the floor and the curtain open as she steps in the spray.

That snake did me a fucking favor, if I'm in the bathroom with her while she showers. I'm still going to have to figure out how the thing managed to get in, though. We can't be showering with snakes.

But this moment, this is more than I could have ever hoped for. And yet, my next words are not just about the game I'm playing. I actually want her to understand me too.

And for her to know, we're way more alike than she ever imagined.

"When I was ten, my pops decided to have a big birthday party for me. All the family and a bunch of my friends. He hired a company to bring in farm animals and everything."

I hear her pause in the shower. She must be wondering where this story is going. Nowhere good is the answer.

"The day was going great until one of the ponies bit me. Drew blood. I started crying because it hurt like hell. What did he do? Punches me in the jaw in front of everyone."

Nia gasps in the shower. I turn back and realize she's got her face peeking out, holding up the curtain over the rest of her like I don't already know what she looks like naked.

Pivoting all the way around, I step closer and touch her face. "The hit was hard enough that he dislocated my jaw. But he wasn't sorry. Told me I needed to man up. Be tough."

"That's awful," she says with a shake of her head.

"I think he thought he was teaching me to be a man. It's how his dad had done it. It was some fucked-up version of love." I'm trying to gain her trust. I really am.

But I also want her to understand. I was her. I bear the same scars. And I know who she is. Which is why I'll be as gentle as I can be.

But also, it's why I can't be her hero. I'm too dark, too close to the edge.

Nia's eyes meet mine. But she doesn't look scared or anxious anymore. This time, her eyes are hard, their blue depths flecked with steel. "Toni's love isn't fucked up, Jake. There is no good intention in his actions. He just doesn't love me. At all."

And then she steps back into the shower and closes the curtain.