His Hostage: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) (10 page)

S
he looks
beautiful in her little dress. I like it more than those tiny-ass shorts she was wearing when we first met. She looks like the sweetheart she is. That, and no one can see how perky her ass is in this dress. She should wear dresses like this all the time. I give her a tight smile even though seeing her puts me a bit at ease. My nerves are fucking killing me. I swear to God everyone can hear how fast my heart’s beating.

I need to get my shit together. Everything’s gonna be fine. And then I’ll end this, and she’ll be safe. My heart drops in my chest knowing she won’t be mine. She’ll never be mine. But at least I know she’ll be safe.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” I greet her, and open the door good and wide for her to enter. My parents' house is a nice home, but it’s old. Family pictures line the wall of the foyer. All of the picture frames are different, and there are a couple dozen of them in total. Ma doesn’t like taking any photos down, just adding new ones over time. The newest are the pictures of my nephew, Ethan. Dom’s little boy looks just like him.

She smiles, but it seems just as forced as mine. My heart sputters in my chest. She didn’t remember, did she? Her eyes linger on the pictures, and her lips soften and pull into a genuine smile. Good. I want her to be happy. I want them to see how happy and at ease she is. My eyes focus past her and land on Tommy. If she remembered what she witnessed yesterday, there’s no way she’d be alright in front of him.

She turns, and the dress flutters out at the motion. Her ponytail sways back and forth in time with her hips. My eyes focus on those hips. I want to flip up her dress and fuck the shit out of her. The need to claim her is riding me hard, but I need to shake that shit off.

“Hi there, beautiful,” Tommy says to her as she walks into the dining room, making a beeline for the book that’s on the edge of the table. I don’t like his tone. I know he’s just testing her, but I don’t like him calling her beautiful.

“Hi there,” she answers in a peppy voice and grabs her book, hugging it to her chest. The pressure makes her breasts bulge slightly from the top of the sweetheart neckline of her dress and gives them a fuller look. She’s not doing it on purpose, but I wanna spank her ass for it all the same.

Fuck this broad has gotten under my skin. All I can think about is nailing her, but now is not the time or place.

“How are you doing? Elle, is it?” Pops asks. He's across the room still, pouring himself a scotch from the old bar in the corner of the room.

“I’ll take one of those, Pops,” I say over Elle as she starts to answer him, and feel like an ass for interrupting. My nerves are getting to me and this isn’t good. The
familia’
s here. Pops is here. I need to get my shit together and keep it cool. I can’t fuck this up. “Sorry, sweetheart.” I gentle my hand on the small of her back and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Elle, that’s my Pops, my cousin Tommy, and my brother Dom.” They nod at her in turn as I introduce them one by one. “Dom's wife Becca is out back.”

“Hi everyone.” She looks timid and shy, and rocks a little on her heels before turning to me. “Thank you for this.” Her big blue eyes meet mine and I can’t speak. I don’t want to walk her to the door and say goodbye.

“No problem,” I finally answer, and then clear my throat. I turn, ready to walk her out, but Pops' voice bellows from across the room.

“So, how’d you two meet?” he asks.

I meet his gaze as Elle answers. I wish he wouldn’t do this shit. “At a bar last night, I left my book,” a blush rises in her cheeks, “in Vince’s car.” Her shoulders hunch inward and she fidgets with one of her heels on the ground. She’s a fucking horrible liar. “He was nice enough to take me home. I drank a little too much.” She can’t even look Pops in the eyes. A chuckle rises up my chest and I can’t stop it. She looks at me with wide, pleading eyes. She’s fucking adorable.

“No problem, sweetheart.” I turn my body again to lead her out. I know it’s rude to be ending it so short, and I can see the hurt in her eyes, but it’s for the best.

“You don’t want to stay for dinner?” Dom asks, and I want to beat the shit out of him for it.

“No--”

“No--” We both answer at the same time, and then exchange glances. Why the fuck doesn’t she want to stay for dinner? My eyes narrow on hers searching for an answer. I mean it’s not like I invited her, but still. She’s fucking quick to get out of here. She breaks my gaze and turns to walk towards the door.

She smiles over her shoulder, still holding the book like it’s her lifeline. “Nice to meet you all.”

“I’ll walk you out, sweetheart.” I open the door for her and place my hand on her back.

“That’s alright,” she replies, and her tone is sad. “It’s fine.”

The way she says it’s fine makes it obvious that she’s not fine. “I
want
to walk you out.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. I don’t like the look on her face. I don’t like seeing her so unhappy. But should I walk her out? No, no I shouldn’t. I should let this end already. End it quickly and cleanly. Ignore her texts. That’s what I should do.

Her eyes fall to the floor as she gives me a weak smile and relents. “Okay.” My heart fucking hurts. I guess she can sense what’s going on. Fuck, this sucks.

I open the door all the way and take a step to push the screen door open for her, but a loud bang from the dining room makes both of us jump. Tommy cusses with both of his hands raised, broken glass and bourbon at his feet. Clumsy fuck dropped his glass. I raise my eyes and look around the room as Tommy swears and wipes his hands down the front of his shirt. They focus right on Pops, but his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on Elle.

Her eyes are wide, and her chest rises and falls dramatically. At first I think the loud bang and Tommy cussing scared her. But this is more. This is bad, really fucking bad. I remember right before she woke up in the office. I grind my teeth in anger. He dropped something then too. The loud bang, him cussing. Fuck! Could it really be triggered that easily? She was almost gone. Almost in the clear. Her feet back up with small steps, pushing the door into the wall. Her knuckles turn white, clutching that damn book.

She swallows thickly and then looks at me. Her eyes dart from me, to each of the men in the room who are all staring at her now. She reaches for the knob to the screen door, and lets out a small scream as I pull it shut and pull her into my chest. I back her ass into my crotch and push the front door closed behind us.

Dom looks at Pops, who says something I can't quite make out. Guessing by how fast Dom takes off through the kitchen to the backyard, it must be about getting to Becca. Sure enough, I hear the sliding doors open and slam closed.

No one moves, and the only sound is Elle crying softly. She shakes her head in my arms and I find myself shushing her. She’s not fighting me. But she knows something. She remembered
something
.

“Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong,” I say calmly into her ear. She’s facing the dining room. Everyone can see her and I hate that, so I turn her in my arms, but she tries to back away from me. She wants to get out of my arms and I don’t like that. She’s not going anywhere.

“Nothing. Please just let me go.”

I give her a small smile and brush the tears off her cheeks. Her skin is so soft. So perfect. “I can’t do that now, can I? Something’s wrong, and you need to tell me what.”

Her breath comes in chaotically as she frantically looks around the room like she’s trapped. Which she is.

“Sweetheart, you need to calm down.” I try to pet her back to calm her ass down, although I’m not sure what the point of that is.

Tommy comes up to my right side with those fucking pills in his hands, ready to shove them down her throat again. “No! Get that shit out of her face.”

“You sure, Vince?” Fuck. It didn’t work. I’m not doing it again. It didn’t fucking work.

I look around the room and feel like a failure. I failed my Pops, Tommy, and especially Elle. It’s all my fucking fault.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispers.

“What do you remember, babe?” I ask.

“Nothing.” She’s quick to answer while shaking her head.

“Don’t lie to me.” My words are cold, and my grip on her tightens. “I’ve got all night sweetheart, but I’d rather you just tell me now.” It hits me in that moment, as I look past her to my Pops, she’s dead. Doesn’t matter what all she remembers. She’s dead.

“I remember,” she gasps and holds the book tighter. She tries to speak again, “the woods.” I wasn’t expecting that.

“What about 'em?” I ask.

“How we,” she swallows and keeps her eyes closed tight, “how you.” She breathes in deep trying to settles her breath, “took me in the woods.”

Oh, fuck that! Anger consumes me and adrenaline rushes through me.

“Took you?” I raise my voice. “As in, fucked you?” She visibly recoils at my anger, and she tries to get out of my arms again. “No, no, sweetheart, that shit did not happen.” This is not fucking happening. Her memory comes back and it’s some shit that makes me a god damned villain. Something I didn’t even do!

“I--” she tries to speak, and then finally meets my eyes. Hers are red-rimmed and filled with tears. “I think I remember.”

“Sweetheart, your memory is wrong. We screwed around a bit, but that’s not what happened in the woods.”

Her eyes look to the wall and then back to me. Her hand raises to her throat. “Did you hurt me?” As she asks, her eyes drift to the faint marks on her wrists, and her eyes widen.

“It’s not what you think.” I try to keep my voice even, but my skin is on fire and I can feel their eyes boring into me, thinking I hurt her.

“No, we didn’t. I know we didn’t. This morning was the first time.” Her voice is small as she stares at her wrists and then closes her eyes.

“That’s right we didn’t. I wouldn’t fuck you when you were like that.”

She raises her eyes to mine. “But you did hurt me. I remember. I remember you, and I remember them. You were angry with me.”

Her breath comes in shallow pants and then she looks behind me at Pops and Tommy. She hesitantly steps closer to me, but then looks at the door. “Please let me go. I won’t say anything.” Her small hand settles on my chest and her eyes plead with me. “Please.”

“I can’t let that happen, sweetheart.” It fucking kills me to say it. I see Tommy leave the room, but my father stays.

“I won’t say anything. I don’t know what to think. I’m not okay,” she says.

“No, you’re not okay,” I answer back. Truer words have never been said.

She swallows thickly and then looks back at the door again with tears running down her cheeks. “I’m scared, Vince.” She’s huddling next to me like I’m going to save her.

I tell her the only thing I can think of to say. “You should be.”

“
I
don't want
to hurt you, sweetheart. I don't want to, but I will.” I hear Vince’s cold, hard voice in my head over and over again. A chill washes through my body. I push my body into his chest as though it will make it go away. I don’t know what’s real. My mind is fucking with me.

Flashes of scenes play before my eyes. His handsome smile as he introduces himself to me.
“I’m Vince.”
The heated look in his eyes as he looks up at me from between my legs. But then, there’s more. More that I didn’t remember this morning. Him choking me, pinning me against the wall. Then his cousin and another man. Smaller in size than Vince, but both with threatening looks on their faces. It makes my heart skip a beat.

“Vince, what happened?” I whisper into his chest, afraid to know the answer. But I need something. Something is very, very wrong.

“I can’t tell you, sweetheart.” His calm voice forces a sob up my throat.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I beg him. I know he will though. I can sense it in the thick air, in the way they all looked at me. I’m answered with silence. “I’m not supposed to remember, am I?”

“I’m sorry, Elle.” His words are more sad than anything else. He’s truly remorseful, and that makes me sick to my stomach. He doesn’t have to hurt me.

I push the words through my hollow chest. “I promise--”

He cuts me off. “That’s not good enough.”

“What can I do? Please,” I cry into his shirt and drop the book to the floor. I was just with him this morning. “Please, Vince. I swear.”

I feel a strong hand on my back and Vince turns his body, taking me with him and pushing my back against the wall.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” he growls above my head, looking over his shoulder.

My body stills with fear and I can’t breathe.

“No one touches her!” he screams above my head.

I grip onto his shirt tighter. He’ll save me. He has to save me.

He grips my hip and throws the front door open. “Vince, what are you doing?” It’s his father’s voice.

“I’m taking her to the cabin.” I nearly trip trying to keep up with him. Everything flies past me in a blur from the tears and from how quickly he moves my body outside to his car.

And then he opens the trunk. My feet dig into the ground, and I try to push away from him, but he picks me up and tosses me in like I weigh nothing. My head bangs against the floor of the trunk and I scream out. When I open my eyes, I see his hard gaze.

“None of that, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay quiet.” I don’t dare disobey him. I know he’s my only hope.

T
he entire car ride
, I’m silent. I close my eyes and try to remember. I think I remember being here before, being tied up. My fingers graze over the faint marks on my wrists. I’m quiet. I’ll do as he says for now, but I know that will only get me so far. How the fuck did this happen? I concentrate on breathing and then I remember about a secret latch in the trunk. Well, not secret. But there’s a latch in here somewhere. My hands run along every surface looking for it. But there’s nothing. I spend the entire ride looking for it, only to come up short.

My breathing hitches the longer the car stays still. My body jolts as the car door slams. A whimper escapes me and I cover my mouth. The light burns my eyes as he opens the trunk. It’s not that bright, but compared to the darkness in the trunk, it kills my sight. He reaches in and picks me up easily by my waist. I cower under his touch as he sets me down. My feet land softly, and that’s when I remember. Like deja vu.

I remember running.

My eyes follow the path I took. I remember his hard body knocking me to the ground. And then I have flashes of memories of him pounding into me, both of us naked as he ruts between my legs, pushing my body into the dirt.

As if reading my mind, Vince growls out, “I didn’t.” His tone is defensive and hard. I swallow the lump growing in my throat. I know he didn’t. I would have felt it this morning. But I remember it. Why do I remember it happening that way? More importantly, why did he want me to forget?

“I know.” The words catch in my throat and come out much higher than I intended. I clear my throat and cross my arms to grip my shoulders. “I don’t understand, Vince.”

He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “You need to go inside, Elle.”

I look at the house. It's the same country home I thought was so cute this morning, but as I look at it now, fear makes my legs collapse. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I can’t go in there. In the movies, a secluded place like this is where they kill you. No one will hear me scream. My body begs me to run.

Vince grips my elbow and leans into my neck. His hot breath sends chills down my shoulder and back as he warns, “Don’t you fucking dare run from me.”

A whimper escapes my lips. He pulls me toward the house and I move with him. This has happened before, and I was still alive this morning despite everything. Maybe it will happen again.

“Will I forget in the morning?” I can only hope I will.

“No.” He swings the front door open as the hope dies in my chest. “It didn’t work.”

“I don’t understand,” I plead.

“Stop whining!” he yells at me as I walk inside with him. His anger forces me to rip my arm from his grasp, but it's a clumsy, uncontrolled motion, and my back slams against the wall just inside the door. My hands cover my mouth and I try to stifle the need to cry.

“Fuck!” he screams into the air, and kicks the door. I hear Rigs barking upstairs. His paws scratch against a door. I back away slowly and find myself cowering in the corner. Vince’s fists slam into the wall, leaving dents and a trail of blood on the white walls. His knuckles are bloodied but he keeps doing it over and over. Each time his fists pound against the wall my chest jumps and a scream threatens to escape. Rigs barks and growls and Vince yells at him to be quiet.

I’m fucked. I’m so fucked.

He finally stops and takes a deep breath. The only sounds in the room are the dog barking and Vince’s heavy breaths. His large shoulders rise and fall with power. He turns slowly towards me and stares at me for a long time. When he finally opens his mouth I let out a heavy breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’m supposed to kill you,” he says.

My body turns weak and I fall to the floor. I want to plead, but I can’t. I can’t do anything. I’m paralyzed.
I don’t want to die.

“I’m going to figure something out, sweetheart.” He walks slowly toward me and picks up my trembling body. Half of me wants to push him off of me and try to run, but the other half is too terrified to consider fighting. The terrified side is the side that is winning. He carries me up the stairs and I remain as still as possible in his arms.

He speaks calmly. “You need to be good for me. You need to make this easy.” I can’t respond. But if I could, I’d tell him to go fuck himself. I’m not going to make it easy for him to kill me. I can’t speak the words, but he must sense my disobedience. “Don’t you fuck with me, Elle.”

I shouldn’t make him angry, but I can’t answer. Fear has crippled me.

He kicks a door open, and I recognize the room. It’s where we were this morning. I look at the messy bed, still unmade, and see a pink stain on the sheets.

I hear him shushing me; I feel him trying to comfort me. It just makes me feel even worse.

My chest has never felt so hollow or painful before. I never knew I could feel this much physical pain from emotional damage.