Chapter 4

"Tonight, at nine thirty, you will be at this location with the packages I supply you." Enzo points at the map, sitting at his fancy desk in a chair that's overkill and far too large.

To be honest, I'm not even sure why we're in here right now. It's my understanding that we were brought in to protect Briar and the Bensons when they were in the country.

"This isn't territory we typically cover. This is usually Ricci's side of the city. But since he's been lying low while the investigation on his family unfolds, that leaves a lot of customers in need." He sits back, putting his hands in front of him. "We're always looking to expand. But be warned … Ricci's crew isn't going to like it."

What he's really saying is, Things are about to be a shit show. Good luck. And if you die, I don't really fucking care.

Dillion and I both nod.

"Understood," I utter. "We will be alert."

"If trouble should arise, don't call me. I have plans." He smirks. "Going to find out if this blonde Beckett brought in is really true wife material."

Something about what just came from his lips pisses me off. With guys like Enzo Romano, Briar wouldn't have a choice. If she didn't want him, he'd force himself on her—I know it. I might not know shit about the girl, but there's something in her eyes that makes me not want to see her get hurt either.

I was brought here to protect her from outsiders, but who is going to protect her from her own fiancé?

"With lips like hers, I'd take her as my wife." One of his thugs laughs beside me, looking at his crewmate. "Or that ass." He rubs his hands together. "You are a lucky man, Mr. Romano."

Enzo laughs along with them. Never indicating something is wrong before pushing his chair back leisurely. Within seconds, I know what's coming next. I think Rossi and I both see it a mile away, even though the two morons doing the drug deal tonight are still cackling.

Standing up, Enzo walks around his desk unhurriedly, almost like a cat ready to attack a mouse. Reaching into his pocket, he flips open a knife and brings it to the guy's neck. As he presses his face closer to the man, his expression is somewhere between a smile and an angry scowl.

"Talk about my Ms. James again, and I'll behead you right in front of her," he growls. "Understand?"

I've been trained not to flinch in times like this. And to be honest, it's not even all that hard anymore. I mean, fuck, I've seen a lot worse than this.

What's getting to me most is that the poor, helpless girl I saw earlier today is going to be alone with this villain. And that right there is enough to make me fucking crazy.

"There they are," Rossi utters as the headlights come into view. "Let's get this shit the fuck over with and get out of here. These are the jobs I can't stand."

"Oh, calm down, will you?" I taunt him. "Gonna be fine. We'll be in and out of here before you have time to cry for your wife again."

"I didn't cry for my wife, asshole," he grumbles, opening his door. "I just … had something in my eye that time. Allergies."

"Uh-huh. Is that what it was?" I chuckle before adjusting my gun in my waistband and pushing my own door open. "Time to go to work," I mutter.

Dillion Rossi might be an agent like me. But unlike me, the dude has a wife and a kid back home. And I know these types of nights are not his favorite. Ever since his wife found out she was pregnant, she's wanted him to get out of this shit we call work. And I get it; it's too risky. But Rossi has worked undercover for years to bring the Romanos down. And though he hasn't said it, I have a feeling this might be the last time he takes on a job this dangerous.

A blacked-out Mercedes parks, and two large figures climb out from the car.

"You Enzo's boys?" one says, keeping his expression stone-cold and his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, sir. That's us." Rossi plasters on his usual carefree demeanor.

Out of the two of us, he's the one who could talk his way out of anything, I swear.

"What's the word then?" the other asks, tipping his chin up.

"Magic dust," I utter. "Now, if we can get this show on the road, that'd be great."

They look at each other before nodding. One steps forward, handing me a wad of cash, while the other opens the trunk. I pass the cash off to my math magician, Rossi, and he counts it to make sure these two clowns are paid up. If we went back to Enzo short, he would blame us. I'm not dealing with that bullshit tonight.

"All good," Rossi whispers, and I open the back of my SUV and begin transferring the drugs to their trunk.

Within minutes, the exchange is done, and they're back in their car, backing out of the street. Once I'm back behind the driver's seat and Rossi is in the passenger seat, we head out on a side road. But not before we see a car driving toward us.

"Fuck, I don't have a good feeling about that car," Rossi grumbles.

When it passes us, only to quickly turn around and drive right behind us, I know he's right.

"Here we fucking go," I whisper, looking over at him. "Can't ever be easy, can it?"

"Course not," he answers with a slight grin, but I know he's nervous. "If it was easy, they'd do it themselves. Not send two knuckleheads to take care of it."

"True," I say just as the car comes up beside us, laying on the horn. When I glance over, seeing the man in the passenger seat holding up a gun, I groan. "This night just got a helluva lot more interesting."

My skin feels like there are thousands of ants crawling on it, making it hard not to nervously shift around as I sit across the candlelit table from Enzo in a private room at a restaurant he chose.

"Tell me, what are you hoping to get out of this, Briar?" he asks, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork. "Money? Power? Both?"

"Excuse me?" I whisper, cocking my head to the side. "I'm sorry. But … I'm not quite sure I understand what you're asking me."

Truth be told, I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'm an excellent actress. I know what he's asking me. I just need to play dumb—oh, and gaining a few extra seconds to form an answer couldn't hurt either.

"You're playing along with your uncle, giving him exactly what he wants." He chews his steak, washing it down with a sip—no, gulp—of red wine. "For my family, you're nothing but a connection to the States. Something that would take us years to build, but just like that"—he snaps his fingers—"we have it. I'm asking you, what are you getting out of this?"

He's testing me. That much I know. He doesn't give a shit about what I want. Just like, at the end of the day, I don't really care about his wants either. In fact, if he walked outside right now and got hit by a truck, I'd probably jump with excitement. So, instead, I do the only thing I know will work.

I play the ignorant, obedient, love-seeking girl who falls at her man's feet.

"Well, marriage, I guess," I answer softly. "To stand beside a real man. Who is strong. Someone who is feared by all. And to bring children into the world, watching them take over everything our families have built." I reach for my wine, raising it. "To our two families joining forces."

He eyes me over before finally giving me a subtle nod. "Just know that you are here to serve me and only me, Briar James. I am going to continue doing what I want with who I want. And you are going to be okay with it. And when what I want is you, you will be willing to give me that."

I know exactly what he means—he's going to sleep with whoever he feels like, and I cannot. But honestly, as long as he's busy getting his rocks off with other women, hopefully, that means he'll leave me alone. Because the last thing I want to do is get naked with this evil human being and risk bringing another evil person into this world.

"Yes, I know," I utter.

"Yes?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," I say, making sure not to roll my eyes, but to smile sweetly at him.

He sits back in his seat, smirking smugly at my answer. He thinks he's won. And he believes I actually look at him like he's my master.

I'd set him on fire if I was allowed to.

We finish our meals in mere silence. And once he polishes off his drink, his eyes roam over my chest, moving upward to my neck and then my face.

"I would like for you to come back to my place tonight, Briar."

His cold, dead eyes bore into mine, and a shiver runs down my spine. My core trembles with fear, and I'm not even sure I can hide it.

"Y-yes." I barely register myself choking the word out. My head spins, knowing there is no getting out of this. "Yes, sir."

"Good answer, baby girl," he coos. "You're beginning to understand. Before long, you will be bowing at my feet, among other things."

The biggest struggle is not getting out of this chair and walking—no, running—out of this room and hiding somewhere he won't find me. Because I'd one thousand percent rather take a cactus right up my vagina than ever let this man touch me.

As we leave our table and make our way to the car waiting outside, I fight back the tears that so desperately want to fall from my eyes. I must stay strong. But if he gets me alone … how will I push him away? If I tell him I'm not ready, he won't care. And if I tell him no, he'll punish me.

This is one of those times I ask myself, What the hell was I thinking?

I slide across the leather seat, and Enzo follows. A driver I've never seen keeps his eyes focused on the road in front of him as he slowly pulls away from the restaurant. Enzo moves closer. His fingertips touch my thigh, dragging upward, and my stomach lurches into my throat.

Every minute we drive, I know we're closer to his place, which only makes me feel sicker.

As his fingertips rest on the top of my thigh, my heart pounds inside my ears. There's a weird buzzing sound in my brain as panic and fear stretch their way to every part of my body. Every few seconds, he moves his fingers further up, until his hand is less than an inch away from being right between my legs.

I'm somewhere between wanting to hurry up and get out of this car and wanting to stay in here forever so that I don't have to go inside—alone—with this man.

We're almost passing the driveway to the house I've been staying at when his phone rings. Pulling his hand away from my leg, he rips the phone out of his pocket.

"What?" he barks into the phone. "Fuck, Hercules. I told you not to bother me tonight. Can you do nothing without me fucking babysitting you?"

There's a short pause.

"Yes, well, I don't give a fuck," he snarls. "Jesus fucking Christ," he hisses. "I'll be there in fifteen. Oh, and, Hercules? Here's your strike one. I don't give three."

He ends the call and slams his phone down on the seat between us. "Carlton, take Ms. James to the complex."

"Yes, Mr. Romano. Of course," he answers curtly.

Enzo turns toward me, his hand grabbing on to my chin within seconds. "Tonight, baby girl, you won't get to serve my cock after all. But soon enough, you will. Because you belong to me now."

His lips are on mine, and I feel the acidic burn in my throat, bile threatening to come up.

Biting down on my bottom lip, he pulls back, gripping my cheek now. "Do you understand?" he says through gritted teeth, strumming his fingers along my jawline.

"Yes, sir," I whisper. "Of course."

He surprises me when he presses his lips to my forehead. "Good," he grumbles against my skin. "Because I will ruin your pussy for anyone else." He runs his thumb along my bottom lip. "I will ruin this mouth too."

I do my best not to seem absolutely disgusted, but I sigh in relief when we pull in front of the crew complex and he tears away from my body.

Finally, I can breathe again.

I count my lucky stars that tonight, I got off the hook.

But I know next time, I won't be that lucky.

Whether Hudson Hercules meant to or not … he just saved me from a monster.

"On a scale of one to kill us both and dump our bodies in the ocean … how mad was he?" Rossi asks, cringing. "Just, you know, curious."

"I'd say kill us, skin us, and then use us as shark bait, for sure," I mutter, leaning against the car. "Probably send a picture to our mamas too."

Rossi's eyes snap to mine, and he glares. "You were supposed to say he wasn't that mad, you fuckstick. Now, I'm thinking the worst." He holds his arms out. "And we had it fucking handled. Why did you call Enzo? We've seen way fucking worse than that shit."

"Better to alert him of things now than to save it until he's under attack." I shrug, seeing a car pull up to the warehouse. "I'll handle it. Don't worry."

"Oh, right, because that's a good idea," he whispers. "That makes me fucking worry more. You're not exactly always that fucking easygoing, you know. This is Enzo fucking Romano. He's killed men for less than screwing up his night—I promise you that."

Stepping out of the car, Enzo struts toward us slowly. With every step he takes, it's so clear how confident he is in himself. Whether he's about to murder someone or celebrate, his face always remains the same. But in this case, I know he's about to flip the hell out on us.

"Hercules … Rossi," he says, keeping his voice low. "It's funny. I thought I'd made myself clear. I didn't want to be bothered tonight." His eyes cut to mine, and he lifts his chin. "Yet here I am, when I could be having my dick sucked by my soon-to-be wife."

My hands so badly want to ball up at my sides. His soon-to-be wife doesn't want to suck his fucking dick—that much I know. The girl is terrified of him; that's easy to see.

"Sorry, sir." I clear my throat. "But the timing of that deal seemed off. Within minutes of the exchange, there was a car chasing us down—almost like they had known we were going to be there."

His face doesn't change; he doesn't react or shake his head. "And what are you implying, Hercules? That I had you set up?"

"What?" I frown. "No. I meant … maybe the buyers set us up. I'm telling you, we weren't there for very long. And someone just happened to roll in when we were leaving?" I shrug. "Seems off—that's all."

"And this couldn't wait until tomorrow?" he growls. "That's what you're saying, Hercules?" He looks at Rossi. "What about you? You didn't have enough brains to think, Maybe we should leave him alone for the night. Maybe he had plans to fuck his fiancée until she couldn't walk ."

At the mention of Briar, once again, I find myself fighting the urge to punch him in the fucking face. The girl is nothing to me, but for whatever reason, I hate when that cocksucker talks disrespectfully about her.

"Sorry, boss," Rossi tosses back. "It was one of those things we wanted to make you aware of, just so you knew. And when Hercules made the call to you, they were still hot on our tail."

When Enzo's eyes widen, I shake my head. "Don't worry; we didn't lead them here. We made sure we lost them before heading to the warehouse."

He stares at us for a few beats before stepping back toward the car. "Count your lucky stars, boys." He pulls his door open. "This time, I'll forgive you for fucking my night up. Next time, it will be your ass to the fire."

He gets into the blacked-out car's back seat, and it quickly pulls away.

Rossi shoots me a glare before pointing at me. "Next time you call him, make sure it's not when I'm working with you."

"Stop being a little bitch," I tease him, smirking. "Let's go get something to eat. I'm fucking starving."

"Your dumbass is buying," he mutters, shaking his head.

Was it risky to call Enzo after he specifically told us not to bother him? Fuck yes, it was. But would I take it back if it meant the girl got to be free from spending the night with that creep? No, not in a million years would I take it back. Even if he did kill me and throw me in the ocean. It would have meant I saved her for one more night.

And for some reason, I'd be okay with that.