Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Sunday is lonelier than usual, because it’s the day I usually have dinner with Maria’s family and she’s still not back. Instead, I spread the huge course catalog over my legs and try to figure out which classes I’ll register for.

That would, of course, require picking a major. It’s something that still eludes me after all this time. Growing up, I entertained the notion of becoming a policewoman. I wanted to find those responsible for my father’s murder. Justice. Revenge. It’s all the same, isn’t it?

Anyway, I figured out long ago I didn’t have the right temperament to become a cop.

Besides, I’m a criminal now.

Fear pricks all over my skin as I realize how deep I’ve sunk into this job. It was only supposed to be temporary, but things changed. I spend more time looking up ways to become a better dealer and poker strategies than focusing on my future at Columbia.

I was so eager to get ahead that I never let myself stop and think about it for a moment. How am I supposed to know what I like when I’ve been working all my life? Every single available moment was spent earning another dollar. And it still is.

Shoving the huge book aside, I pull my laptop over my knees and browse the Internet. Checking my mail, CNN, the local news.

Long Island murder had mafia links

Carmine Calautti, 23, was gunned down outside a deli store, police said Monday.

Calautti is suspected to be a low-level associate of Giacomo Vittorio, boss of the Vittorio family.

It’s proof that the Vittorio-Rizzo feud still rages, sources believe.

“This was a retaliation,” a source said. “Calautti stole a truck of suits in Jersey that was under the protection of the Rizzo family. They’re sending a message to the Vittorios that anyone who encroaches on their territory will be dealt with ruthlessly.”

Calautti had a lengthy criminal record, including several counts of assault with a deadly weapon.

My heart thumps a dull beat behind my chest as I click away from the page.

One week ago.

Was that what caused Vincent to leave so quickly after he received that phone call?

A hollow feeling opens somewhere in my chest, somewhere close to that horrible emptiness that blew open when my father died.

I don’t know what to do about it.

My mind feels like a vice by the time midnight rolls around, and I’m tossing in bed. When Vincent’s face swims in my head, I feel a chill like a cold finger running up my spine. My sheets feel constricting and I throw them back, leaning upright and my bare feet hitting the cool floor as I step into the darkness that I fear so much. I run quickly into the bathroom and flip the light switch, my pulse racing.

It’s really quite pathetic to be so old and still be afraid of the dark.

Splashing water over my face, I grab the hand towel and pat it dry. I wince as I look at my reflection. Sunken eyes, pale skin, puffy cheeks, and hair in desperate need of a brush. I grab my brush handle and attack my head with it, obsessed with making it look better even if I’m only going back to sleep. A sound creaks through the living room that makes me freeze in the middle of brushing my hair. I listen hard, hearing nothing but the slight buzz of the light and the traffic in the street outside. Still, I turn off the light and make a dash for my bed, for the safety under the covers.

The clip of shoes on the wooden floor makes me scream and a brutal, male hand grabs my wrist. He yanks me into his body and smothers my scream with his hand. I elbow his side hard, but it’s like elbowing a brick wall. It glances off his rock hard body and then he wraps his arm tight around me, so that I can’t struggle. I inhale a shrill gasp, hearing his heavy breaths in my ear, feeling the strength of his body that’s impossible to overcome. I’m going to die.

His lips kiss me behind me ear and I struggle madly, attempting to stomp his feet, but they’re made of hard, black leather. It hurts me more than it hurts him.

“Nice to see you, too.”

A callous, gritty voice that I recognize very well growls in my ear. He plants more lecherous kisses on my neck, and a pleasurable shiver runs up my leg.

“Vince?” My voice mumbles through the hand. He slides it down my face before his thumb caresses my bottom lip. “You scared the shit out of me.”

His low chuckle vibrates through my back. He’s still holding me as if I’ll burst out of his arms the moment he lets go. That deadly energy has taken over him again. I’m only wearing panties and a t-shirt, and I can feel him stiffening behind me. Still holding me hostage, he bends down and yanks my panties down, his hand smoothing over my stomach and dipping down to rub circles around my clit.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he whispers in my ear.

It doesn’t take long for me to shudder with a moan. Suddenly, he bends me over so that I catch the edge of my bed. He wrestles with his pants and his hardness throbs against my entrance. I inhale sharply as he shoves forward, impaling me in one swift stroke. His hand curls around my hipbone, pulling me back as his other grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling hard.

There’s something incredibly hot about being taken like this in the dark. I cry out, my back arching as Vince pounds me relentlessly. His grip becomes crueler as his thrusts deepen; striking a spot that makes me groan. My legs shudder as energy builds up with each ruthless thrust, my head is yanked back and it’s painful, but I don’t care. I don’t want him to stop.

He buries himself to the hilt and keeps my hips against him, and finally I’m set off, my orgasm heating my skin. He pulls out and groans, stroking himself to make him come.

Both of us finished, we stumble towards the bathroom and I flip the light on, gazing on his face for the first time that evening. Vincent’s face shines with a red mark below his eye, and then I see the state of his suit. It’s torn in several places and dirty, like he’s been in a fight.

He sees the worry in my eyes and his hands soothe my shoulders. “It’s all right, Adriana.”

“But you’ve been in a fight!” I gently touch the red mark on his face and he winces. “What happened?”

He gives me a sharp, suspicious look. “I’m fine. Let’s take a shower.”

Geez.

I start to protest, but Vince is already stripping the rest of my clothes off. I sigh as he strips his suit off, throwing it unceremoniously on the ground, before I turn on the shower. I wait until steam fills the small bathroom before climbing inside. The small shower really isn’t tall enough for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He hisses in pleasure as the hot water beats down on his sore muscles.

The sight of his naked body beaded with water droplets, rivulets running down his muscular thighs, makes me want him again. He looks beautiful with the water moistening his face and hair. Vince takes me in his arms, the heat of his body flush against mine, and kisses me. The red mark on his face inflames with the heat and I feel a dull throb in my chest.

“Does this have anything to do with Calautti?”

All the drowsiness leaves his face as he grabs me by the shoulders, pinning me against the cold tiles. “What?”

“I read about it in a newspaper article.”

His face relaxes somewhat. “No,” he says. “You shouldn’t read those stories. They’re all bullshit.”

I’m somewhat perturbed by his outright lie. “Then why did you get tense when I mentioned the name?”

Vince gives me a look. The look that reminds me that he’s not an ordinary man. “Don’t get cute with me, Adriana. You have no idea how dangerous it is for someone like you to ask those questions.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone who knows too much for their own good.”

I swallow hard, not quite understanding him, but my skin recoiling as if he just made a threat. I’m sleeping with a captain, I remind myself, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe.

Still, he softens his words with a kiss, one that makes the butterflies inside flutter.

After we’ve dried off, Vincent shrugs back on his clothes.

“Please stay with me.”

He hesitates, shoving his leg in his trousers. The sea of disquiet in my soul suddenly rises over my head in a huge wave.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

“That’s okay.”

Vince follows me, slipping behind me into bed. There’s no space for him to move away from me, but he doesn’t want to anyway. His arm curls around my waist and his breath billows over my neck.

“I hate being alone in this place. Anyone could just burst in and kill me.”

He smiles against my neck. “What? It’s a college campus. Who would want to kill you?”

“People get killed all the time for no reason.”

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I turn around to face him in the dark. He’s completely shrouded in darkness. It makes it easier to talk to him. I stare at him the dark, willing myself to see his eyes, but I can’t. My mouth opens and closes.

“It’s true. It happens.”

“Yeah, but that’s something you don’t ever have to worry about. Least of all when you’re with me.”

“Don’t you worry about it?”

His hands stop stroking my waist as he considers it for a moment. “No.”

It can’t be true, and yet his voice is clear and strong. He’s not going to get killed. Other people, maybe, but not him. How I wish I could have that calmness in my life. What’s it like not to worry?

“You can’t spend your life thinking about what could or might happen. That’s no way to live.”

A long sigh leaves my mouth. “You’re right.”

He reaches out and pulls me into his chest like I’m a ragdoll. The steady heartbeat calms me. It’s utterly peaceful. I’ve never felt this safe in my life. When I’m with him, I’m not afraid of the dark.

He is the dark.