Since anger is surging out of me in hidden waves, I shut my door with more force than needed. Justine was supposed to be a ruse, a way to get my daughter back. My cock shouldn’t be leading our exchange. Yes, it’s been over a year since I’ve had a woman quiver beneath me, but that’s part of my penance, isn’t it?
I took my eyes off my wife to admire another woman, fascinated at how she could exude such beauty while thick black tears rolled down her face. She was more Gothically dressed that I would have liked, and far too young, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was too ravishing to deserve a half-scrutinized glance.
For over a year, I’ve failed to understand how Rimi got the better of me. Only now am I realizing he didn’t blindside me. It was the unknown redhead on the corner of 29th and James street. She was so tiny, my body would have blanketed hers in an instant. The thought on how she’d respond to my big, brooding frame had me so mesmerized, I didn’t realize Audrey had torn away from me until it was too late. My enemies had captured her.
She was carrying my daughter, my flesh and blood, yet, my wandering eye sees my daughter paying the price for my stupidity. I’d turn the knife on myself if it wouldn’t make me as selfish as my father. For years, I craved his approval. I thought becoming his shadow would return our family’s name to the stature it deserves.
Alas, he only taught me one thing. Famiglia prima di tutto. Fien is my family, she’s all I have, so she comes before anyone—even me.
My focus returns to the road in just enough time to spot an overloaded truck heading my way. The driver flashes his lights, warning me the weight he’s hauling is too heavy for him to stop our collision, leaving the task up to me.
I won’t lie, my heart races more now with adrenaline than unease. The thrill zapping down my spine is maddening and addictive at the same time. I’m pissed I’ve gotten myself into a situation that could leave Fien to defend for herself, but I haven’t had a surge of energy like this in months. It makes me feel alive like I’ll can overtake the arrogant prick whose speedo has probably never been over thirty and make it back into my lane with a few seconds to spare.
“Dimitri…” Justine forces out through the panic clutching her throat when I flatten my foot on the gas pedal instead of the brake.
My car is a prototype designed to respond on demand, and I’m determined to see if its guarantees stack up. The needle on the speedo goes from thirty to seventy in one blurring second. The horsepower behind its motor glues me to my seat while the vibrations of the steering wheel mimic the spasms a woman’s cunt does when I tease her clit with my tongue.
When we whizz past a brand-spanking-new Buick, the windows of my Hennessey Venom F5 rattle. My brutal speed isn’t solely responsible for their shudders. Most of their tremors are compliments to the truck whipping past us a nanosecond after I slot into the minute space between the Buick and a chunky-tired Chevrolet.
Like a recently admitted mental patient, I commence laughing. I’m not talking a little, hey-that-was-fun laugh, I’m talking full-blown, cackling like a hyena who ate an entire dish of hash brownies. I had no idea how dead I felt on the inside until now. The adrenaline hit will wear off as quickly as it arrived, but the reminder that I’m alive will keep the blood in my veins hot for a few weeks to come.
Once my laughter dies down, I stray my eyes to Justine, shocked by the silence on her side of the cab. During our many hourly ‘chats’ the past three months, I couldn’t shut her up, so her quiet is just unusual. It’s a little unnerving.
Justine’s back is one with her seat like mine and her eyes are wide. I can’t tell if she’s excited or scared. It could be a combination of both. She isn’t asking me to pull over like Audrey did anytime my foot got friendly with the gas pedal, but is that because fear is clutching her throat too fiercely for her to talk? Or does she love the adrenaline hit as much as me?
If I were half the man I used to be, I’d ask her. Since I’m not, I slackened my pressure on the gas pedal before returning my eyes to the road.
For the rest of our fifteen-mile trip, I maintain the law. I blinker before turning, stay within five miles of the designated speed limits, and stop at pedestrian crossings.
It’s the most mundane trip of my life.
Who buys a limited-edition sports car to drive it like a senior citizen in bad need of a bus pass?
The only good that comes from my slower pace is my ability to pay attention to other things besides how well my tires grip the wet asphalt.
We have a tail.
The lowness of my tailgater’s ride assures me it isn’t the Feds or a member of the local law enforcement, much less the heat of their glare. I should have known Demi wouldn’t have called until after her fight with Maddox. Who stops an argument to make a call mid-crisis? Not any female I know.
With one plan out the window, I commence another. “Dammit, I forgot my place was being fumigated tonight. Do you mind if we swing by my father’s house instead?”
As her jaw unhinges, Justine’s still wide-with-terror eyes drift my way. “You want to go to your dad’s house?” She cringes out ‘dad’ like most men do when their side dish brings up marriage during their first hookup.
“He’s away for the weekend. Won’t be back until Monday.”
The width of her pupils double. I understand her shock. I pretty much just hinted that we should spend the weekend fucking at my dad’s house. I don’t have a cunt, but even I can comprehend how that would make most women want to close their legs instead of opening them.
“Other people will be there.”
“Oh…” Justine’s throat works through a hard swallow before she asks, “Like who?”
“Ah...” Fuck, when did I lose the ability to lie on the spot? “Friends and family.”
“Oh.” This one is much more approachable than her previous one. “That sounds nice.”
Nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe anyone in my father’s crew, but with Maddox riding my ass, I’ve got no other option but to take his sister back to my family’s compound. It has the means to keep Maddox out long enough that gossip will circulate to my enemies that I took Justine to meet the family.
In this industry, that’s the equivalent of knocking a woman up with your kid.
With my foot once again becoming friendly with the gas pedal, I enter my family’s fortified mansion approximately thirty seconds before Maddox. The window isn’t wide, but it’s long enough for me to request for the goon on the gate to commence full lockdown. That means no one comes or goes without my permission—not even the authorities.
After pulling up to the side of the mansion-like building, I switch off the ignition. “Things are usually pretty rowdy in the main quarters, so we’ll head to the ones in the lower half. It’ll be quieter down there.”
“Okay,” Justine says, hesitantly nodding.
Once I’ve assisted her out of my car, I commence guiding her inside. I can tell she’s uneased about the ruckus we hear more than we see, but I pretend not to notice. She has four older brothers. I’m sure she’s accustomed to the ‘situations’ most men find themselves in late on a Friday night. Even someone as mind-fucked as me prefers the cries of a woman in ecstasy over a wounded soldier being slain.