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His Hostage(55)

By:Willow Winters


“You did good, sweetheart. You did real good.” Hearing his praise makes my heart feel light. He holds me for a moment and then they start talking behind me. I try not to listen as I shut my eyes and just focus on how good he feels.

“We need to get those MC bastards,” Vince says, and it makes my eyes pop open. I want to ask who they are. I want to know if they were the ones who shot at us. But I remember the rules. I turn in his arms and look to the door. I’m afraid to ask if I can leave. I shouldn’t be here listening. I know that much. But he pulls me into him, my back against his front, and he kisses my neck.

“We got 'em waiting for you, Vince.” Anthony’s eyes travel to my face and then back to Vince. “We figured you would want to do the honors.”

“Damn right I want the honors. All of them?” he asks.

“Still looking for two of them.” Anthony answers in a tight voice. It makes my stomach churn. Judging by the look on his face, that’s really fucking bad. I try to ignore it all. I need to forget.

His hands grip my hips and he leans in to talk to me in my ear, “Sweetheart, you stay here.”

I turn around and plead with him, “No. Don’t leave me.” I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be left here.

“They put a hand on you, baby?” he asks me. “Who hurt you?”

I gently shake my head. No one’s hurt me. “No one.”

“That’s 'cause you’re mine.” He kisses me on the lips. “I’ll be back.”

“Please, Vince. Just wait till I’m asleep. I need you.” His face softens and he leans down to kiss me.

“I can do that, sweetheart.”

“Good man,” Dante says from behind me. “Take care of your girl, and then you guys take care of that shit tonight.” Vince nods his head as Dante walks to the door and opens it. “Don’t be late for dinner tomorrow,” he adds before crossing through the door. Under his breath, he mumbles, “I gotta take care of your mother.”

Vince smiles at his father and leads me to the door with his hand on the small of my back. “Let’s go home, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”





Chapter 32: Vince





Both men stare back at me. Only two out of four, but I’m giving them the full treatment. I want to send a message. These are the bastards who opened fire on me. On my family. On my sweetheart. My fists clench in anger. They’re screaming through their gags. I wanted to make sure they were awake for what comes next. Tommy beat the shit out of one of them, and it was nearly 40 minutes before he woke up. It made it easier to tie his ass up to the truck though. The other one put up a fight, not that it was of much use against all of us. I stretch my jaw, feeling the slight bruise there from the shit punch he landed. I suppose if I knew I was going out, I’d fight like hell, too.

“Any last words?” I ask, knowing they’re trying to say something. I don’t give a fuck though. They scream louder and fight the ropes that are chafing their skin.

“You ready, boss?” Anthony asks, as he tosses the container into the bed of the truck. It smacks against the one guy's leg and I swear to God he shits himself at the touch. The whole front yard of the Locos Diablos MC club house smells like gasoline, so I just take a few steps back. I hope the two fuckers we didn’t find are in there right now or hiding somewhere watching. I want them to see this. I want them to know what’s going to happen to them.

“Light it up.” I don’t turn my back as Tommy lights a match and tosses it at them.

I stare at the flames as they rise higher and higher. Their screams get louder and louder. I know the cops will be here soon, and I need to get my ass out of here. The smoke will rise and someone will call it in. I gotta get out of here in case it explodes, too. Everyone on the streets will know, though. You don’t fuck with the Valettis. A chill runs through my body as I turn and get into the car. Tommy’s in the driver’s seat and Anthony’s in the back.

“Am I taking you home, boss?”

“Yeah.” I need to get home and feel her writhing under me. I’ll need her every night until I die.

No one touches what’s mine. No one but me.





Chapter 33: Elle





I purse my lips as I look at the canvas. I set it up in the dining room so I’d get more natural light on it while I worked. There’s just too much darkness. It’s supposed to be a man’s lips on a woman’s neck, with his hand around her throat and her mouth parted. It was too realistic though, initially. I wanted to make it more abstract, so I added a black gradient to make them look like they were fading into it. But, I overdid it. I think I really fucked it up. I take a step back and put the brush on the easel as I take a deep breath in, and then out.