If I keep pretending that everything’s alright, maybe she’ll settle down. I hope she will. She’s so fucking broken. She’s so scared that I’m going to hurt her.
I had to bring her with me. I didn’t trust leaving her alone. Not after I came back yesterday and saw what a shitty job I did tying her up. I’m used to zip ties. But I’m not tying her up like that. I’ve seen it go wrong too many times. I don’t want to risk hurting her.
She’s staying with me. Every waking moment, I want her right next to me. But I don’t want her to be the shell of a human she was when I first saw her. I know I can bring her out and help her heal.
My hands grip the steering wheel tighter, making my knuckles turn white. I fucking hate how she tries to fade into the background or trembles with fear. I loosen my grip and ease up off the gas as we make our way closer to the docks.
I gently lay a hand on the console, getting a bit closer to her, but not touching her.
“Just relax, and everything will be fine.” I repeat the words I told her when we left and she acknowledges me with a nod.
“I will. Thank you, Kane.” I don’t know why the fuck she’s thanking me, but I shove my annoyance down. I don’t want to yell at her, not like I did last night. She doesn’t deserve that. I need to go easy on her. After everything she’s been through, it’s a miracle that she’s as functional as she is.
I move my hand down to her thigh, just below her jean shorts and give her thigh a gentle squeeze. Her skin is so soft. “Everything’s going to be fine, Ava.” I turn my head to meet her eyes. “No one’s going to hurt you.” I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to fuck with her. I’m not playing around. Right now she’s mine. It may not be the smartest thing for me to be handling her like this, though. The thought makes me grind my teeth and I turn to look out of the window. I don’t want her to sense my anger at all. She’s mine, and I want her relaxed and to be able to blend in. Not some trembling slave, chained away and devoid of life.
I know I can get her there. I will get her there.
So long as everyone stays out of my fucking way.
They better not fucking hurt her. I got a call from Vince this morning with the address for the meet-up. I’ve never liked the docks. That’s where we dumped the bodies. I’ve seen plenty of men led to the docks, only to be shot on-site and discarded. But that’s where the shipping containers are, so it makes sense that we’d meet there.
I take another look at Ava. She’s nervous still, but at least she’s looking around a little. A small smile plays at my lips. I wonder if she knows she’s not staring straight ahead, looking at nothing. I fucking hate that, so if I’ve broken that habit I’ll be happy with that little bit of progress.
“You ever hear of the Valettis?” I ask her, as I follow the directions from the GPS and turn into a gravel driveway right off the bay and drive to the far end. There’s a large building and then a smaller one that looks like it’s obviously comprised of offices. Undoubtedly that's where Vince told me to meet him. My eyes travel to Ava and I question bringing her along. It’s an impossible situation, leaving her alone versus bringing her with me.
“I haven’t.” She shakes her head and her large blue eyes shine with sincerity. “My father didn’t talk much about business.” Her eyes stay on me, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry about your father.” She visibly flinches from my words and it makes me feel like an asshole. I put the car in park and turn in my seat to look at her. “I really am, Ava. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”
“Thank you, Kane.” The way she says the words seems different than before. The words are softer and have more meaning. I reach into the backseat and grab the bag with her collar and leash. I imagine I need her collared when everyone’s around, just like I need her to call me sir. I want the collar on her neck, too. I want to cover the bandage over her cut. It’s a large fucking cut, too. The fact that they didn’t do shit to help it heal pisses me off. I lean over and push the edges of the Band-Aid down.
“This’ll cover that up.” I have to lean across the console to put the thin leather band around her neck. It looks good on her. It’s an off-white color and makes her skin look brighter around it. The leather should feel good compared to the metal. There’s a loop at the front, for a tag or a leash.
I adjust the collar so it fits nicely and covers the bandage. Most of it, anyway; a small bit peeks out. It makes me scowl. I don’t like seeing it. I hate the evidence of what those fuckers did to her. My eyes involuntarily travel to the large, silvery scar on her shoulder. The indentation of each tooth from the bite is visible. I have to force myself to look away and calm my breathing.
“That feel alright?” She nods her head at my question and I shove the bag into the backseat. I’m not putting a fucking leash on her. I won’t need it.
“You’ll stay to my right. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Kane.”
“If anything happens, you stand behind me.” She hesitates as her eyes widen slightly; it’s the first time she’s ever waited even a second to answer. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to acknowledge what I said. If guns come up, we’re probably fucked. But I still want her behind me. I need to know she’s alright.
“Yes, Kane,” she replies as she nods her head, keeping those beautiful blue eyes on mine.
“Kane?” she asks.
“Yeah, Ava?” I meet her kind gaze and it takes me by surprise. Her eyes have such life in them.
“I’m sorry for your loss as well.” I’m shocked to hear that from her. My eyes search her face. If her father didn’t talk about business, then Abram and whoever else had her must’ve been running their mouths. Adrenaline courses through my blood and I struggle to keep the anger from my expression. Not because they were talking about my family, but because they had her.
I open my mouth to ask her more about what she heard, but also about the shit they put her through. Before I get a word out though, a knock on my window surprises the shit out of me.
Fuck! Fucking sloppy of me to let a Valetti sneak up on me like that. I should fucking know better. I open the door and step out. The man who knocked on the window takes a step back with a smirk. Behind him is another man. Both are dressed casually, sporting jeans and tee shirts. They resemble each other quite a bit--both Italian with dark hair, and dark eyes. Most likely they’re true-blooded Valettis.
The smaller one, toned and broad-chested, but not nearly as muscular as the fucker to my right, smiles up at me like it’s a big fucking joke that they walked up on me. His hand is on the butt of his gun and as my eyes settle on it, he pulls his shirt out a bit and hides it away. I’ve got mine, too. But I’m not fucking ready to pull it out. Not without reason.
“Just a precaution,” he says with a smirk.
“I’m Tommy, and this is my brother Anthony,” says the one closest to me. I nod my head. I was right. Valettis. I know a bit about them. I know Anthony is the fucker who gets people to talk. His methods are known to be extreme, but effective. Looking at Tommy I don’t have to wonder what his job is. He’s almost as tall as I am, with just as much muscle. His shirt is stretched almost too tight across his chest. He should start investing in some that actually fit.