21. Nic

21

NIC

W hen I woke up this morning wrapped around Bella, it was unsettling how much I liked it. I could get used to it.

Last night, against my better judgment, I fucked her, and it was… well, better than I could have ever imagined. It wasn’t her tight pussy that made it spectacular, although that contributed. It was how open and responsive she was. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been with plenty of women who were eager and responsive. Perhaps it’s the trust Bella has put in me, a trust I’m not so sure I deserve.

This mistake was made more clear when I went to pull out and the condom slipped off my dick while still inside her. The last thing either of us needs is a pregnancy.

In the morning, I was grateful that the storm cleared and I could focus on getting us the hell out of here. Max’s call updating me on our driver’s body being found and the stolen car report, while putting pressure on me, was also welcome. The longer I stay here with Bella, the more I don’t want to leave. It makes me an asshole. She had a significant moment in her life last night, and I’m acting like it didn’t happen. Just another woman. Just another fuck. Except it wasn’t, and it’s messing me up inside.

I didn’t think I’d be able to get us out anytime soon with all the snow blocking the drive, but then I found the snow blower. I had to decide whether I should risk the noise of the blower announcing our presence or take the hours and hours to shovel the snow. Since I’m not one hundred percent after getting shot, I decided to take the risk.

Just as I finished up, I saw a cop coming up the street. Was this just a routine patrol through the area, or did someone tip them off about the cabin? I’m not a man who takes chances. I got Bella into the car ASAP and us on the road.

As I pull out of the drive, I don’t see anybody, but then up ahead, a cop car comes toward us. Did he make a circle or is this a different cop? The cop car crawls past us, headed in the direction we just left.

"Keep your head forward," I tell Bella, though she's already doing exactly that. Smart girl.

My eyes dart between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, watching the vehicle shrink into the distance.

"We need to ditch this car," I say, scanning the surroundings for options. The snow-covered rural roads offer little cover, but staying in a potentially hot vehicle is worse. “We need a big parking lot. Do you know of any place?”

“There’s a superstore in the next town,” Bella says, her fingers twisting together in her lap. I want to reach over and take her hand to reassure her, but that’s the sort of romantic bullshit I need to stop.

“Can you get me there?”

She gives me directions. "What if they stop us before then?"

"They won't. But if they do…" I think of the gun I’ve stowed under my seat. I don’t want to use it. Despite the reputation of the Mafia and my current quest to kill my father, I’m not a bloodthirsty killer. Not that I don’t want to kill, but it’s a hassle. It brings attention. I’d rather operate in the shadows.

The heater blasts warm air against my face as I press harder on the accelerator. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to put distance between us and that cop. Fifteen minutes later, we enter a larger town. The main drag opens up to a sprawling superstore, its parking lot half-filled with cars despite the weather. I suppose they’re stocking up after the storm. The only problem is cameras. I need to be strategic and stealthy.

“We need supplies,” Bella says.

“We don’t.”

She turns to me. “You could use clothes, and we haven’t had anything of substance to eat.”

“Bella, places like this have cameras everywhere.”

Her eyes narrow as she turns to look at the store. “Let me wear your giant flannel,” she says of the few clothes I’ve stolen from our unknowing host. “There’s a ball cap in the back seat. I can put my hair up and wear it.”

“It’s too risky.” My stomach growls, but I’ve been hungry before. “It’s not smart to shop and then steal a car.”

Her eyes widen. “Steal a car? We can’t. These people are shopping. They can’t come out to find their car gone.” Her response is a reminder that she's too young, too pure for the violence that follows men like me. And yet here she is, running from cops and killers because of choices made by men who’d like to control her.

Including me.

I pull into the far end of the lot, positioning our car between two older model sedans.

“They have insurance.” I hate how I sound like my father, who once told me that people and their things were simply resources for us to use for our own gain. I was twelve, watching him destroy a family's livelihood because their restaurant wouldn't pay protection money. He'd called it a lesson in power.

“Would you rather be dead or go to jail? Because if we don’t get new wheels, that’s what will happen.” It occurred to me that I could leave her somewhere and instruct her to tell the authorities I'd kidnapped her. But then she’d end up back with her father… or mine.

“Not that one,” she says, pointing to the car on her right. “It’s got a car seat. It’s cold out and if they come out with their baby and don’t find their car?—”

“Then this one,” I say referring to my left.

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"Because I've learned to do what needs to be done." The words come out harsher than intended. I soften my tone. "My goal is to keep us alive, Bella.”

She shakes her head but settles into her seat. She’s giving in, so why do I feel like shit?

“Wait here.” I’ll deal with the car and moving her bag. I don’t want her lingering out in the open for cameras to see her.

I get out, feeling the cold blast of air. It clears my senses, helping me focus. I look for a hidden key, but there isn’t one. The car is an older model, one I know I can hotwire. The door is unlocked, and I slide into the driver's seat. I pull the tools I stole from the cabin. First I try the screwdriver in the ignition. That rarely works anymore, and this case is no different. I use the tool to undo screws, strip the wires, and find the right connections. Within minutes, the engine purrs to life.

With my head down, I exit and block Bella as I escort her to the passenger seat. Then I climb into the driver’s seat.

"How did you learn to do that?" Bella asks as we pull away from the parking lot, her voice a mix of curiosity and lingering unease about stealing the car.

A smile tugs at my lips as memories surface. "Max taught me. Back when we were teenagers, he worked for one of our underbosses who ran chop shops."

“Most teens work at burger joints.”

I shrug. “Most teens don’t have fathers in organized crime.” The memory warms me despite our current situation. "Max told me that every man should know how to steal a car, even if he could afford to buy one. Called it a life skill."

Her brow arches. "Did you steal a lot of cars?"

I shake my head. "Nah. We'd practice on junkers in the back lot, then put them back together. We didn’t participate in the chop shop business. But he’s right, it’s a life skill. This adventure is proof of it. I can teach you if you want." Mostly, I’m joking.

“Yeah, maybe.”

I swing my head to her, surprised.

She shrugs. “Like you say, it’s a life skill that might save me.” We drive on a bit and she says, “You and Max haven’t known each other a long time, then?”

"He's the closest thing to a real friend—a brother—I've got in this life." The memory of those late nights in the shop with Max feels like a lifetime ago. Just two kids playing with cars, pretending we weren't being groomed for a life of crime. Max would blast rock music while teaching me about wiring and engine parts, both of us covered in grease and grinning like idiots.

“You work with him?”

“Sort of. He runs things in Las Vegas for my father.”

Her brow furrows. “Your father?”

I know her concern. “I trust Max. There’s no love lost between him and my father. He does his job, and like me, he looks out for Gia. If… when I kill my father and take over, he’ll be my second in command.” I glance at her. “First thing will be to end the trafficking.”

She nods. “Good.”

But thinking of taking over sends my mind racing to figure out how I’m going to end my father’s reign of terror. I work through scenarios of my father's possible next moves. The old bastard's always ten steps ahead, which is how he's stayed in power so long. Even now, he's probably got men combing through every security camera feed between Chicago and New York.

"You're quiet," Bella says, breaking through my dark thoughts.

"Just planning." I scan the road ahead, looking for threats. We’re twenty minutes into our drive when I see another superstore. Perfect timing. We need to swap these plates before someone reports them. And maybe I’ll take the chance of letting Bella grab something to eat.

I pull into the lot, choosing a spot near the back where the security cameras have blind spots.

“Now what?” She doesn’t hide her annoyance.

“Switching plates. But if you’d like to disguise yourself, you can go in.” I pull out a wad of cash, happy that I always travel with several thousand dollars. I hand her a hundred dollars in twenties. “I’ll change the plates and meet you over there.” I point to a spot closer to the store exit but still out of what I think is camera shot.

She nods, taking the flannel from me and grabbing the ball cap in the back seat. She keeps her head down as she makes her way toward the store.

I work quickly, removing the plates from my car and switching them out for another. I get back in and drive to the location I indicated for Bella to meet me. It feels like fucking forever. Worry niggles my gut. Is she turning herself in? Has someone stopped her?

Finally, she comes out carrying several large bags.

“What the fuck?” I snap at her as she tosses all but one in the back seat and then gets into the passenger seat.

“You’ll thank me when you have clean underwear.”

I look back and see she’s bought clothes.

She opens the wrapper of a granola bar. “Want one?” She holds up the box.

I shake my head, irritated but not wanting to argue with her. What’s done is done. I pull out of the parking lot and head east.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"New York.”

After hours of driving, watching both the road and our mirrors for threats, I spot signs for a small resort town in Pennsylvania. We’re over halfway back to New York, but I’m tired, I’m sure Bella is too, and I want another night to figure out what the hell I’m going to do when I’m back home.

The winter resort town is a perfect spot. Tourists means transient populations where two more faces won't draw attention. I pull off the main road with the big name hotels and follow the signs to a locally owned resort. I pull into a weathered motel, its neon sign flickering weakly against the darkening sky. It’s the kind of place that's seen better days, where security probably consists of a single camera at reception, if that. The type of establishment that won't look too closely at cash payments or ask uncomfortable questions.

I put on the ball cap and enter the reception area. The clerk barely glances up from his phone as he hands over a key to room 112.

“Building C.”

I take the key and return to the car, driving to the location he indicated. As we get out of the car, I scan the parking lot and the surrounding buildings, noting exits and potential threats.

I take her suitcase as she grabs her bags, and we enter the room. The room itself is dated but clean enough. Two beds, as I requested, basic amenities, and a window facing the back lot for a quick escape if needed.

Bella makes her way to the bathroom. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” I head over, hoping it’s not a dead animal or something.

“It’s got a garden tub. I guess when this was built, it was a nice place. They just haven’t remodeled in a long time.”

Like thirty years would be my guess based on the mauve rug and accents.

Bella’s face is lit up at the sight of the tub.

"Go ahead, take a bath," I tell her. "I need to grab some food and a burner phone."

Her expression shifts to worry. "Is it safe for you to go out?"

“It’ll be fine. Keep the door locked. If anyone knocks, don’t answer.”

She nods. “Be careful.”

The genuine concern in her voice hits me in unexpected ways. I'm used to people fearing for their lives around me, not fearing for mine.

Unable to stop myself, I cup her face with my hand, my thumb brushing her cheek. "I'll be back before your bath gets cold." I want to kiss her. Hell, I want to fuck her again, but I’ve vowed not to do that. I gave her what she asked for, what we both wanted, but this isn’t a relationship. Soon, she’ll be off living her life and I’ll be heading my father’s organization.

I leave her, heading out into the cold night air, scanning for potential threats. Nothing seems out of place, but in my world, that doesn't mean much. My father taught me early that the deadliest predators are the ones you never see coming.

Twenty-five minutes later, I return with two burner phones and a bag of burgers with fries.

“You okay?” I call out as I set my stash on the table.

“Yep. Did you get something to drink? I’m thirsty.”

I grab the soda and carry it to the bathroom. I enter without thinking this situation through. The sight of her in the tub stops me in my tracks. Her hair is piled loosely atop her head, a few dark strands curling against her neck. Water beads on her shoulders while the rest of her is hidden under bubbles. Her eyes are closed, head tilted back against the rim, completely at ease as if we’re not running from the law and my father.

My throat goes dry. I should look away, but I can’t.

She opens her eyes, catching me staring. Instead of covering up or showing embarrassment, she gives me a sleepy smile that shoots straight through me. "You’re jealous, right? You know, I think there is room for both of us."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Disappointment flashes in her eyes. If she wasn’t sure before, she is now that I’ve been trying to make sure we don’t fuck again. Why? At this moment, I can’t remember my reasoning.

“Is that my drink?”

I look down at the soda in my hand. “Yes.”

She rises in the tub, all those bubbles sluicing down her wet curves. Fucking hell. I might just come in my pants.

She steps to me, taking the soda, wrapping her lips around the straw, and sucking. That’s it. I’m done.

I take the soda, tossing it in the tub as I grip her and turn her against the vanity.

“Hey, I was thirsty.”

“The hell you are.” I put my face close to hers as my hand frantically searches my pocket for a condom. I guess I should have known I’d fail since I made sure to have one. “What are you really?”

I shove my pants down, my dick springing free and searching for relief.

“What do you mean?” She’s quite the vixen for being so newly initiated.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Her brow arches, and I see triumph in her eyes. “I think it’s you who wants to fuck me, Nic.” Her finger brushes over the tip of my now covered dick.

“Tell me no if you don’t want this.” It occurs to me that she might not be ready physically. When she doesn’t say anything, I drop to my knees and begin to eat her out like a starving man.

“Oh, God… Nic…” Moments later, she’s coming, her juices flowing into my mouth.

I rise up, gripping her hips and driving into her, hard. “Fuck!” Her pussy grips me, and I’m in heaven. She’s hot. Wet. Tight. Her pussy pulses around me until I think my eyes might roll back in my head.

I lean in, capturing her lips with mine. She tastes like desire. Her breathing grows ragged. I plunge in, harder, faster, pushing us both to the edge. Her whole body tenses, then shudders as she comes apart. My name falls from her lips like a prayer.

Electric pleasure shoots through me as I thrust and grind against her. My release overwhelms me. I’m lost in it. Lost in her.

I hold her through the aftershocks. My dick deflates, but when I move again, excitement flares. I’m not done.

“More.” I lift her, carrying her into the bedroom. I should be planning my revenge on my father. My rational mind screams about the dangers lurking outside, but my body refuses to listen.

I capture her mouth again, drowning in the taste of her. Her nails rake down my back. I grab another condom, my hands practically shaking as I sheath myself again. I enter her again. The connection is electric, consuming. For these precious moments, the world outside fades away.

My hands find hers, fingers intertwining above her head. She meets my rhythm, matching each thrust as if we’d done this dance a million times before.

The intimacy of it strikes deep and a terrifying realization comes to me. This isn't just sex anymore. This connection between us has grown into something I never wanted and shouldn’t have.