The safe bet was to just tell her nothing, walk away now. Maybe kiss her lips then walk away.
“Please, tell me. Who are you?” Her plea rips over me. I feel something inside of me flutter. It can’t be feelings I have none.
Kill her. Should I? And then slip inside kill Damon and walk away from this. No more riddles, no more games. Just death.
I couldn’t do that shit. I couldn’t kill her. She’s a woman, and a fucking sexy one at that, and he could be the reason she’s so sad.
“I work for the Ragen Family.”
“I don’t know what that is.” I frowned at her.
“Are you serious?” She nods at me turning her eyes to look behind her at the back door to the house. “No-one is coming,” I say. “I can see right inside from here.” She nods her eyes turning back to mine.
“I seriously don’t know who they are.”
“We’re the Italian\Irish Mafia. We’re the biggest crime family in the city.” She looked away from me. My palm itched to pull her eyes back to mine.
“I guess my Uncle pissed you guys off.” I laughed, shaking my head.
That was a fucking understatement.
“You’re Damon’s niece?” I asked.
“Not by choice,” her tone was filled with hate. I could feel the pain roll from her as a tear washed down her cheek. “Kill me,” she said knocking me back with just her words. My eyes snapped to hers as she held my stare.
“What the fuck?”
“Kill me.” I shake my head at her.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I said.
“But I know who you are. I could go tell him.” Her voice shook this time; gone was her false bravado, in its place was fear.
“No, you won’t.” Cupping her cheeks in my hands I moved up closer to her so my body was inches from her. Touching, but not touching. The heat rolled from me into her as I watch her shiver under the weight of my stare.
“How do you know I won’t,” she whispers out, the warmth of her breath hitting my lips. Her breath smelt like caramel and cream.
“I don’t,” I said back into her lips, closing my eyes for a split-second.
“Save me then,” she mouthed just as my lips crashed into hers. I took her with all I had pushing promises, hopes and dreams all into this one kiss drowning us both. Evoking feelings and thoughts a man like me doesn’t possess. It was strange; I had never kissed anyone before. Ever. Not like this. Your Mom and Nana don’t count.
Just then the door opens catching us both unaware. She freezes, biting down hard on my lips as I try to pull away to slink back down into the dark.
“Layla-Layla-Layla,” Damon calls out. I know that voice, that sick twisted voice. It has my skin crawling and me wanting to shoot him from where I hide and steal her away from his twisted shit.
“I know you’re still out here. Get the fuck in this house. Now!” he screams as my eyes meet hers. “I will save you. You’re going to be mine.” I kiss her fast before she can say anything. “Go inside, Layla. I will see you soon.” She just nods at me. Her eyes say all I need to know as she stands while I slink into the dark.
“Coming, Uncle,” I hear her say, quivering with the fear I heard before.
I need a new plan. Extract Layla and then choose a new time to kill Damon.
Chapter Five
Dreams are lies our mind tells us we need to feel. She was all but a dream.
~ Micha Ragen
I turn to watch Layla through the coffee shop window while I slip out of my car, unseen.
Strays of wildfire colored hair fall out of her braid around her face. She tucks the strands behind her delicate ears and continues through her orders smiling at customers and thanking them. Making idle chit-chat that sounds like choir music coming from her lips.
I rest the back of my boot against the brick building behind me and settle into the dark shadows of the street, watching her.
The urge to slip closer, touch her body again, taste her kiss, is all-consuming. I don’t know what the fuck possesses me to do it, but with my cigarette firmly pressed between my lips I cross the darkened street, lit by a few old streetlamps and trees wrapped in tiny, bright white light strands.
Flicking my cig to the road in front of me and stubbing it out with my boot I shove my hands into my leather jacket pockets and step inside the coffee shop. The smell of coffee and sweet treats has my guts grumbling and my mouth watering. I didn’t even realize that I was hungry.
Her gaze collides with mine as I pull out a seat. Nodding at her I pick up the small card that lists what this unique place has on offer. I feel her eyes on me as she finishes with the customers paying for their takeaway coffee. My eyes roll up her body until they land on her rosy, plump lips that drop open in an enticing little O that makes my cock stir to life.
Heat rises to the apples of her cheeks, coating her face and neck in a wash of bright red when she sees that I am staring at her.
I cock my head to the side, assessing her. She’s different. I can tell just by staring at her. Just by watching her fidget uncomfortably under the weight of my gaze. Her fingers curl over the note pad as she steps from behind the counter toward me. I feel what used to be the place where my heart was beating fast and it scared me because I have no such thing. I know no such feelings. I have trained my body to not react, to not feel. She though, she is unarming.
She nervously tucks those invisible stray hairs behind her ears as she reaches my table. I lean back slightly in the chair, my cock hardening under the weight of my jeans while I smile up at her.
“C-can I get you s-something?” Her stutter is quiet but loud. Her cheeks change to a deeper shade of red as her nervousness bleeds through her voice.
“Just a latte, doll. Caramel, thanks. On ice.” I watch her register what I ordered as she thinks over what I said. Yes, darling. It’s your favorite. I know this because I stalk your fine ass. She also knows that I stalk her.
“Oh, and a croissant with the end dipped in chocolate, thanks. Hold the cream.”
Her hands shake as she writes it down on the pad in her hands. Her eyes flicker from mine back to the pad then out the window.
“I-I’ll be right b-back.” Again, with the stutter. She didn’t stutter that night in the rain, so I wonder if it’s mine or their presence un-nerving her.
I have to admit, the sound of her stutter and voice stirs my cock. Just like the way she looked at my lips as I spoke and the way she bit her bottom lip, watching me. She wouldn’t know how to hide her arousal even if someone coached her how to do it.
I like that.
A lot.
I wonder if my moral contract has a clause in it about fucking the Mafia princess. Is she off-limits to my cock or can I indeed fuck the good out of her and replace it with the dark I see lurking in the depths of her blue eyes. She is Damon’s niece. Her father was his brother. Unsure where he is, what happened. There is only so much digging Jimmy could do before he stopped to hound me with questions. He told me under no circumstances was I to fuck her, kiss her, fall for her. It was a straightforward we kill them all and move onto the next hit. Little did he know I had already kissed her. My mind dreamt of fucking her even while I sat there awake in meetings. That’s all I thought about; we will kill them all, just not Layla.