“So,” he started casually. “What do you want to know?”
The man turned to look at him, his eyebrows up his forehead in surprise. “My bosses had a warehouse of… goods in your city. Last week, it burned to the ground.”
Dante frowned. “That wasn’t me.”
The man nodded. “Didn’t seem like it. That’s actually someone else’s MO. But Tenebrae is an important center for our business, and your lack of cooperation has led to a lot of heavy losses for a lot of very important people. However, thanks to the goodwill of your father and his work for us, my bosses are willing to offer you a deal.”
Dante raised an eyebrow. “Again, you couldn’t have taken an appointment for this? You had to drag me out of bed and tie me up for that?”
The man shrugged. “We didn’t know how well you’d cooperate. She-” he nodded towards a slightly terrified, slightly determined Amara, who paused in her silent struggle to loosen the knot on her hands “-was just insurance. She’s been that for a long time.”
Dante quickly brought his attention back, leaving Amara to work on her ropes. Her wrists were slender and her scars made the skin around it smooth. She had a fair chance of slipping her hand out.
“What do you mean?” Dante asked, keeping him engaged.
The guy just smiled.
Dante felt his mind reeling, and he filed the information for later. He didn’t directly look at Amara but he could see in his periphery that she was gaining some momentum in her struggle.
“Okay,” he told the guy, keeping him focused on himself. “So, what’s the deal your bosses wanna give me?”
The guy smiled and squat down in front of him again, his hand in a fist. “Work with us and live. Simple.”
“What kind of work?” Dante asked, already knowing the answer.
“Your father was pretty active in the business,” the man went on. “You don’t have to be. Just allow us storage and transport through the city and we have a deal.”
“Storage and transport of kids?” Dante asked, his gut tightening.
“Smart man,” the man nodded.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I take that piece of prime pussy over there out to my men until you’re more… agreeable.”
Dante clenched his jaw but didn’t say a word, his hands fisting on the chair.
“Hey asshole,” the soft voice from behind made the guy turn. Dante saw Amara swing up the toolbox, her arms shaking with the weight as she smacked the man across the face with it.
The guy roared in pain, falling to the floor, clutching the bleeding gash on his head.
“You can’t afford this piece of prime pussy,” Amara heaved the metal toolbox again and brought it down hard on his skull, the sound of the loud crunch making Dante wince. The guy passed out, the wound on his head probably fatal. She stood there shaking, her chest heaving, hair wild around her face, rage flashing in her green eyes, cloaked in nothing but his shirt, looking like an avenging goddess. Fuck, he was such a goner.
“Amara,” he called out to her. “C’mon, baby. Others might be coming.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes, putting the toolbox to the side, her entire frame trembling from the adrenaline he could feel surging to the fore inside him. Hopping over the unconscious guy, she quickly came to him, her long, slender fingers shaking as she tried to undo the knot on his wrist.
“Give me those beautiful eyes,” he told her gently, knowing he needed to guide them out of it.
She stilled in her efforts, looking up at him.
“Good girl,” he praised her softly. “There’s a knife in my right sock. Raise up my pant leg and take it out.”
She leaned down, his shirt gaping open and even though it wasn’t the time to notice, he was a man. His eyes went there, took her in, satisfied that this was his woman. He felt her fingers doing the task nimbly before she straightened and started to cut at the rope under his wrist. He just needed one hand free before he wrecked these bastards.
This close, he could hear her loud breathing as she both panicked and tried to keep it down, and said the one thing he knew would distract her thoughts from the fear.
“I can’t wait to fuck you.”
Amara paused, looking up at him with bewildered eyes. “Are you serious?! This is not the time for dirty talk, Dante Maroni.”
He gave her a little grin deliberately, staying calm and unaffected because he knew it would relax her. And he needed her to relax.
Amara muttered something under her breath before venting. “Why do they make this look so easy in the movies? You’re tied to this freaking chair with these ropes that just won’t cut and I’m one second away from a panic attack.”
“You’re doing great,” he told her, looking down at the scars on her wrists that were rubbed raw from her struggle, her knuckles white as she made progress with the blade. The rope was barely holding together with a few strands that would snap any second.
“Hey!”
A loud voice from the door jerked Amara. She spun around and Dante leaned to the side, to see one burly guy looking at them angrily. He came towards her, and Dante snapped his arm out, feeling the tension in the rope cut through his forearm, took the knife from her limp hand, throwing it across the room. His aim hit true, the blade lodging itself in the man’s neck as blood spurted out, him falling to his knees.
Amara scattered back a few steps even though she was clear of the blood, her face a mask of shock. He just hoped her mind survived their night together.
Undoing the knot on his other hand deftly, Dante quickly got out of the ropes, standing up and shaking his limbs and jumping twice to get the blood flowing.
First things first, he crossed the space between him and his girl, grabbed her beautiful face in his hands, and kissed her deep. “You are a fucking warrior queen, and I’m so proud of you,” he told her softly, seeing the effect his words had on her.
Her lips trembled in a slight smile. “You make me strong.”
Fuck, he liked that.
Giving her a smile, he pressed their foreheads together, his ears open to any external noise. “As soon as we walk out that door, you’re going to see a side of me tonight you’ve never seen before. I’m going to slaughter them, and you’ll have to see that. Think you’ll love me after?”
She gripped his wrists, nodding. “In sickness in health, in life in death, in murder in mayhem, isn’t that how it goes?”
He chuckled, giving her a small kiss, giving her the affection he knew she craved in her bones but rarely voiced, and pulled back. Leaning down, he stripped the 9mm from the first guy and his knife from the other, handing the gun to her.
“Keep this,” he told her as she took the weapon, her hands shaking. “It’s loaded and unlocked. Stay behind me. You see anyone coming at you, aim and fire. Space your legs apart so your frame is steady. The recoil is a bitch, so be prepared for that. You okay?”
“Won’t you need this?” she asked him, holding the gun with both hands.
He smiled, waving the sharp knife. “I’m good. Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
The biggest disadvantage was not knowing exactly how many people were on the premises once they got out the door. It could be two or ten or twenty, and while on his own it wouldn’t have mattered, he was protecting precious cargo and anything getting to her would make him very, very angry.