His (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)(31)

“I’m just here to make sure you understand that we’ll shove a big fat cock in that mouth of yours if you can’t keep it shut about what you saw. But you wouldn’t mind that, would you?” He leers at me. “Hell, if you behave I’ll even let you have it up the ass after.”

I clench my fists, feeling tears well in my eyes. I try to hold them back but I’ve never felt so violated. Here I am, surrounded by tens of thousands of people, only feet away from NFL players, coaches, officials, even Eric, who's still fiddling with his camera, and this pig is able to walk up to me and say things like that? The worst part is I know I can’t do anything. He’s right. If I draw attention to him, he could just walk away. He’s not breaking any laws by talking to me. It would be my word against his, and who knows when he’ll come back for me. Was he the one I saw in the parking garage? I feel a chill thinking of how much danger I would have been in if he had stopped me there, alone.

The overwhelming thought in my mind is that I wish Vince was here. As much as I’ve tried to wall myself off to him, I just want him here now. I want to watch as he beats the living hell out of this thug. I try to get a good look at the guy so I can describe him later, to who, I don’t know. He has a tattoo of a purple rose on the back of his hand and a mole with one thick black hair on his upper lip. His features are large and brutal. I think I won’t be able to forget his face, even if I try, not after this. Can I really go to the cops at this point? I’m obviously being watched, and I’d have to go into witness protection if I talk to the cops about this. I just want to bury my head in my hands and cry, but I’ve never had the luxury of being able to run away from my problems.

He snaps his finger. “Are we clear?”

I hate myself for it, but I nod my head, sniffing and wiping a tear from my cheek. I walk away from the smirking mobster, fists clenched and feeling like I’ve failed some sort of test. Like this was my fault somehow. He seems content to let me go and get in front of the camera, smug in the knowledge that I can’t do shit to him. Not yet.





13





Vincent





I slam a fist into Ronnie’s stomach. To his credit, he’s taking it well. He has only thrown up once and he hasn’t even begged for us to stop. Probably knows he got himself into this, and he’s taking it like a man. I can appreciate that, I even admire it. I’m going to spare him the broken fingers because he has been such a good sport about everything. He gets some fresh bruises, maybe some minor internal bleeding, and he goes on his way. Then again, if he steps out of line again, I’ll break every fuckin’ bone in his hands. I’m no saint.

I look at him, taking in the thick blood dripping from his split lip and the swelling purple around his eye, then I turn to Frankie. “I don’t know, Frankie. Think he’s had enough?” I normally enjoy this shit. There’s a thrill in making people pay in blood when they cross me. I get a rush watching them break, but I can’t get my mind of her. I keep thinking of her fuckin’ doll face and the way her tits overflow in my hands. Goddamn. I want to get her back to my place and show her how many times I could make her cum if I didn’t have to rush.

I don’t really want to admit it to myself, but I wonder if the reason I’m not enjoying this as much as I normally do is because I know how Aubriella would look at me if she could see me now. I can’t help thinking she would think I’m a monster for this. I can’t change who I am, but I’d have to keep her away from this part of what I do. I don’t think a girl like her could live with it.

Frankie prowls around Ronnie like a burly cat, eyes never leaving him. Without warning, he backhands Ronnie. Hard. Blood and spit splatter from Ronnie’s mouth all over my Brioni suit.

“Hey!” I shout. “This fuckin’ thing cost me seven large. You probably just ruined it.”

Frankie shrugs apologetically. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.”

I shake some of the blood from my sleeves, frowning in disgust. “He was looking at the fuckin’ ground. Asshole.”

Frankie grins like a predator. “He was thinkin’ about lookin’ at me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you my dry cleaning bill.” I move toward Ronnie and punch him in the face, pulling my punch at the last second a little. “That’s for getting your fuckin’ blood on my suit.”

Ronnie just takes the punch with a grunt, spitting blood. He’s smart enough to spit the blood as far away from me as he can. I purse my lips and snap my fingers. “Get him out of here.”