Chapter Twenty

SHAY

"May I?"

Bishop's fingers pinched at my hip, and I swallowed hard, glancing back over my shoulder to find Frank Martelli, his hand extended.

"I don't—"

"Sure," I interrupted, directing a warm smile at Frank before turning and hitting Bishop with a pointed look. "I'm sure Bishop won't mind entertaining himself for a few minutes."

For how important it was that we pull this shit off, Bishop was being awfully protective. While I was glad he wanted to keep me safe, I was scared it was starting to look suspicious that he wouldn't let anyone come near me without him.

I wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust me to do what needed to be done or that we were really in that bad of a situation that no matter what I did, shit was going to hit the fan.

But either way, I wanted him to see that I could do this.

I could be the kind of woman an MC president needed at his side.

And that meant being strong enough to walk away with the enemy—no matter how scary or dangerous that might be.

I stretched up onto my toes, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

His arms circled my waist, holding me there. "Be careful. Remember what I said."

Frank Martelli may come off as a sweet, older gentleman, but I've seen the remnants of what he will do to someone who makes a fool of him.

Right. Sweet grandpa type on the outside, ruthless killer on the inside.

"I'll be okay, now let me go," I whispered, feeling his reluctance to hold me a little tighter before finally allowing me to slip free. It was hard to step back and pull away from this man when I'd spent so long wondering how it would feel to be wrapped up in him just like this.

I had to keep reminding myself it wasn't real.

Bishop had made that clear earlier, and we both just needed to make it through.

Turning, I instantly placed my hand in Frank's, dipping slightly into a curtsey which brightened his face dramatically before he led me away. "You don't have to bow in my presence," he said with a low chuckle.

"Sorry, sir—"

"Or call me sir," he added, finally stopping in the middle of the dance floor. "Frank is fine, my dear."

"Of course," I conceded, laying my left hand on his shoulder while his right reached for my waist. His touch was surprisingly gentle, without tugging me forward or letting his hand float a little higher or lower, and the space he left between us was respectful but not awkward.

The second I placed my right hand in his, we began moving, Frank taking the lead instantly and directing us around the dance floor.

The man really wanted to dance.

Not just sway back and forth in one spot, which would usually be my idea of the concept.

"I'm sorry if I struggle to keep up. I don't dance a lot," I joked, a little out of breath already as I attempted to keep from tripping over our feet—mine and his.

Frank laughed a loud chortle. "You're doing just fine," he praised with a grin, flashing me a golden tooth. "Anyway, with how intensely Bishop is watching you right now, I'm sure that if you fell, he'd be here in a heartbeat and catch you before you hit the floor."

I risked looking away from my feet for a moment, catching sight of Bishop across the room, his mouth moving as he seemed to be in a discussion with a handful of men, but his eyes locked on me at the same time.

"Oops!" My foot tripped, but Frank caught me quickly, turning us several times to make it seem like it was just a part of the dance. "Maybe focus on me."

I swallowed, returning my eyes to meet his. "Yeah, sorry, I'm just…"

"You're in love," he said, filling the pause. "Vince was suspicious of the connection between the two of you, thought maybe Bishop was using it as protection."

So, Vince is smart and psycho. That's not comforting.

"To be quite honest with you," I started, hoping this was about to pay off and help to bring Frank even more on board with us and leave his son to drown. "Bishop and I spent so many months pretending like there was nothing going on, so I'm not surprised Vince got a different vibe from us."

His face instantly transformed, his brows both rising high. "Really? And why is that exactly?"

I cleared my throat and rolled my shoulders. "Bishop's daughter, Calli, is my best friend and roommate… has been for almost six years. We didn't want our relationship to hurt her, so we've kept it hidden as much as possible."

"Wow." His reaction was genuine, the surprise on his face as clear as day and, hopefully, it would be this that convinced him once and for all. "I understand now your conundrum."

You have no idea, Frank.

No idea.

"I just wanted to apologize," I continued, my stomach twisting in a knot as I hoped this wouldn't make this worse. "The thing with the girl in the hospital…"

Frank shook his head, the two of us becoming more in sync as we moved across the ballroom. "No. It's me who needs to apologize for Vince and his actions," Frank declared. "I've never been afraid to hurt people in the name of my family. That is the way of this world. But I have never got the kind of joy out of it that Vince does. These sadistic tendencies of his sicken me, and I'm sorry that you somehow got caught up in that mess."

Wow.

I was so shocked by his admission that I almost tripped over my feet again.

Thankfully, Frank was a great lead and kept us moving around the floor despite my many mistakes.

How often did the head of a crime family admit his grievances with his son to someone? Never. No way in hell. But Frank was so done with Vince's bullshit that he was ready to share that disdain with the world.

And I was already nervous about dipping my toe into those waters. I did not want to get swept away if the waves got any bigger.

"I appreciate that," I answered, trying to think on my feet and move. "Do you have any more children?"

"Oh yes," he replied, his concerned features melting away. "Oh yes. My daughter, Gwen. She is beautiful and married one of my lieutenants a few years ago. Got a couple of grandkids there. My son, Marco, is away at college right now, but he will be coming home to take over as the head of this family soon."

Soon? How soon? Is this man dying?

"Mr. Martelli," a young man in a sharp black suit suddenly interrupted, and we jerked to a stop. "Your wife would like to speak with you."

He grunted, obviously unhappy with the request, but his hands still fell away, and he stepped back. "Shay, I hope to catch up with you and Bishop later. Excuse me."

"Absolutely," I answered, curtseying again with a grin, making Frank explode with laughter as he walked away.

I'd done it.

At least, I thought I'd done a pretty good job.

He seemed content. Apologetic. Understanding.

But Bishop's words continued to rattle around in my brain, reminding me of the wolf in sheep's clothing and just how dangerous and lethal this man actually was.

Maybe that was why I was sweating so profusely.

Or it could be because I'd been dancing for the past twenty minutes.

A simple sign that read bathroom above an arrow caught my eye, and I began to shuffle toward them while trying to catch Bishop's eye.

Now that Frank Martelli was nowhere near me, his entire demeanor had shifted. He'd relaxed a little, evidenced by the fact he was sitting at a table and no longer standing, still engaged in what looked like an in-depth conversation, all three men using their hands dramatically like they were boxing when they took turns to speak.

He was fine.

I was fine.

So I quickly ducked into the bathroom just outside the large ballroom. I wasn't expecting to find a handful of stalls when I walked in and briefly wondered how someone had this kind of setup in their home. Then I remembered they also had an eight-hole golf course as part of their garden and a swimming pool with two water slides.

I walked straight across to the paper towel dispenser, yanking four or five out and using them to wipe under my arms and between my thighs, where I'd completely panic-sweated like crazy. Tossing them in the trash, I grabbed another couple before returning to the sink and wetting them. I dabbed those around the back of my neck, letting out a relieved sigh as the cold liquid cooled my burning skin.

Not only was it hot in that ballroom, but I was also attempting to lie my way through the night. You couldn't tell me that no one would notice sweat patches on this beautiful silk dress and not be a little suspicious about why so much liquid was pouring out of me.

Tossing those in the trash, I was ready to head for the door, but as I reached for the handle, a soft groan came from one of the stalls behind me.

And it wasn't just an ouch-my-stomach-hurts kind of groan.

It was the I'm-in-a-lot-of-pain type.

I swallowed hard, telling myself to walk the hell out. That it was none of my damn business, but that would be a lie. Because I took an oath to help people, and walking away went against everything I believed in.

"Dammit," I cursed softly under my breath as I backed up, giving each stall door a soft push until I found the one that wasn't empty. "Oh my goodness, are you okay?" I exclaimed, falling to my knees beside a young girl hugging the toilet.

She wore a tight, black cocktail dress, and because of the way she was sitting, I could see the deep, dark bruises that the dress would probably cover while she was standing. They looked like hand prints, some of them almost black.

I crouched down in front of her, pinching her chin to get her to look at me. "It's okay, my name's Shay. I'm a nurse."

Her eyes were bloodshot, and it was like she was looking straight through me, with no sense of what the hell was going on.

Drugs.

"How did you get here?" I questioned, scanning the rest of her body for injuries. "I'm going to go and get help."

"No!" she protested, her body suddenly a little more alive as she floundered for a moment, trying to get some grip on the toilet and force her feet underneath her. "No, I'm okay. I'm… I'll…"

I stood and held out my hand.

She held back at first, eyeing it like it might be poisoned or something, but then sense kicked in, and she knew she'd never be able to get up without a little help.

I pulled her to her feet and helped her stumble over to the large bathroom counter, sitting her on the edge. She was young, though her almost jet-black hair was curled and pinned in the beautiful updo that must have taken hours and cost hundreds.

The girl took a couple of long, deep breaths, somehow managing to find herself again. "Did you say your name was Shay?"

"I did…" I answered, stepping back.

"You helped Alice get out."

I sucked in a sharp breath. Oh God. Not another girl.

"You're here with Vince?"

Instantly, she began to fight a wave of tears, and her hands gripped the edge of the bathroom counter like it was the only thing keeping her from falling into the pits of hell beneath her feet. What I didn't want to tell her was that she was already there.

She was standing in the fire, and it was going to burn her down if she didn't get out.

"He looks after me," she whispered, the words obviously rehearsed.

"He makes you fuck random men on the street, and in exchange, he gives you drugs." The words came out harsher than I intended, but my anger wasn't directed at her. It was all for him, every fucking drop of it. "How old are you…"

I let the words float, waiting for her name.

"Sarah. I'm nineteen."

"Sarah!" Bang, bang, bang. "Get the hell out here!"

Like a robot, she moved as summoned, but I grabbed her arm, holding her for a breath. "Try and get to the hospital. Tell them. They will help."

While I'd seen a sparkle of hope when she'd recognized my name, it was gone now. Every ounce of fight she'd once had now beaten from her, drained from her—her body and mind abused for God knows how fucking long until she'd finally ended up like this.

Furious, I stepped in front of her, storming toward the bathroom door and throwing it open, meeting Vince Martelli head-on.

He jumped back, surprised by the door flying toward him. "Bitch, what the…" he mumbled, straightening his suit as he looked up, "… you fucking—"

"You want to go round two, Vince?" I taunted, ignoring the little voice on my shoulder screaming run!

Sarah stumbled through the doorway behind me, trying to stay on her feet, although she looked like a new baby deer trying to walk for the first time. "Sorry, baby," Sarah cooed, her voice suddenly a lot more slurred than it was. She fell into his arms, and he had to catch her to keep her from hitting the ground. "Lessss go upstesss, hmm?"

She was playing it up.

Pretending like she was trashed.

Most likely a defense mechanism she'd learned.

Vince's eyes narrowed on me, and he shoved Sarah to the side before coming at me like I was the red rag and he was the bull. Every muscle in my body tensed, preparing to either fight for my life or escape. Only I knew I wasn't about to run.

I wasn't about to let this bastard think I was afraid of him, even though I was petrified.

"You meddling little bitch."

"Vince!" Frank's deafening roar had the entire room freezing as if someone had hit pause on a remote control. Vince was just a few feet from me, a murderous look on his face.

That look focused on me.

The pause was only brief. The chaos of footsteps came next, rattling the floors and sending vibrations up through my feet and into my chest. Bishop appeared in the ballroom's archway beside Frank Martelli, his eyes focused on me.

It wasn't often you saw Bishop second-guess anything, but I saw him considering whether he needed to storm in and kill Vince where he stood or if he should avoid starting a war.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, holding up my hands and taking a few steps around a practically atomic Vince. "Mr. Martelli, I apologize. I was just helping Sarah here in the bathroom. I didn't mean to cause any—"

"You didn't, dear," Frank cut in just as his wife stepped up beside him, her hand slipping into his. They looked straight past me, Frank with his eyes narrowed on his son while his wife's eyes were much sadder, filled with disappointment and disgust.

"Vince, it's time for you to go home," Mrs. Martelli announced, the order causing her son to snap his entire body in her direction, his mouth falling open.

"Mom. I—"

"You heard your mother," Frank cut in. "Go."

Vince backed away, his lip curled as he hit me with one last glare before grabbing Sarah and dragging her off down the hall.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and the look of absolute helplessness made me feel like I was going to vomit there on the Martelli's floor.

"I think it's also time for us to leave," Bishop insisted, making his way across the hall to me and brushing my hair back from my face, his eyes meeting mine, silently questioning if I was all right. When he was satisfied, he leaned in, his lips brushed the top of my head, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm going to kill you myself when we get home."

It made me smile, my body sinking into his arms.

Though I knew he wasn't completely being dramatic.

I wasn't going to hear the end of this.