Dirty Dom: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) (2 page)

What the fuck have I done? I need to go. I have to go to my son. I want nothing more than for this man to hold me, but I know that’s not going to happen. I’m so fucking stupid. I don’t even know his name. These feelings in my fucked up chest aren’t the same for him. This was just a payment. The thought makes my heart stop and my chest pain, but I brush it aside. I refuse to be any weaker in front of him. I need to be strong for just a moment longer. I try to fix my hair as best as I can without a mirror. I straighten my back and grab my purse as he walks back over to me.

W
omen
like it when I’m an asshole. Don’t know why and I don’t care, but it always has them coming back to me. I definitely want to see this girl again; I fucking need to be inside her as often as I can. So after I walk her sweet ass to the door I give her a cocky smirk and kiss her cheek.

He leans in and whispers against my ear, letting his hot breath tickle my sensitized neck, “Thanks for the payment, doll.” With that he turns his back and shuts the door without giving me a second glance. That’s the moment the lust-filled hope dies and my heart cracks and crumbles in my hollow chest.

I
count
the money and start pacing. I need her info from Johnny. I need to know who this woman is. Whoever she is, she’s going to end up being mine. Not five minutes after she’s gone, Johnny comes back. “The first drop just left. She came with everything, but the interest.” I pocket her panties so he won’t see them. “Twelve grand right?”

“We didn’t charge her interest; she didn’t know about her husband’s debt until yesterday.”

“Since when is that how we do business?” I don’t even try to keep my voice down. Blood starts pounding in my ears. “Why the fuck is she paying her husband’s debt? He doesn’t have the balls to come here himself? He sends his woman!” The words jump from my lips before I have a moment to think.

I’m usually more controlled, more thoughtful. If this job has taught me anything it’s that silence is deadly and being a hot head will get you killed. But I’m shaking with rage. Anger seeps out of my pores. Anger that she’s married to a fucking coward and a bastard. But more than that, I’m fucking pissed that she’s taken.

Johnny shakes his head in confusion and slows his movements as he takes in my rage. “No it’s not like that. He died last week, heart attack or something.”

The moment Sarah sees me, the last bit of my hardened exterior cracks. I feel my lips tremble and bite down to prevent the tears. “What did you do, Becca?” Sarah’s pleading eyes makes me feel even shittier. She knows, she can tell. I’m sure I look like I just got fucked. My neck is pulsing from where he was biting me.

Her eyes want me to tell her she’s wrong, they’re begging me to tell her she’s mistaken, but I can’t lie. I can feel his cum leaking out of me and running down my thigh. Evidence of my weakness and my betrayal. The tears well in my eyes and I can’t stop a few from leaving angry, hot trails down my cheeks. All I can manage to reply is the barest of truths, “I slept with him.”

“Don’t cry Becca. It’s alright.”

“Rick just died and I slept with a stranger.” I don’t keep my own disgust out of my voice.

“It’s not like you two were even together in the end anyway. You were separated for nearly two months.” My breath comes in spasms as I rest my head on the door of my car. I loved my husband, but I can’t remember the last time he held me, the last time we made love. A criminal who probably would’ve hurt me had I shown up empty handed gave me more compassion and desire than Rick has in years.

M
y breath catches
in my throat. I took advantage of her in a moment of weakness, but I didn’t fucking know how vulnerable she was. I slam my fist against the window. I didn’t fucking know! A sick, twisted churning makes me want to heave. Fuck, I treated her like some random slut. She probably thinks I’m a fucking animal for doing that to her. Fuck! I knew she needed me. I fucking knew it.

I just needed to be held and feel like I was loved. This shattering in my chest, jagged pieces of glass digging into my heart, it wasn’t worth it. It hurts too much. The worst part is that a very large part of me wants, no needs, to crawl back to him and beg him to hold me again. Just one more time.

I
wish
I hadn’t let her go.

I wish I’d never had to meet with him.

I
clench
my teeth and close my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever see her again.

I breathe deep and steady myself to drive away, knowing I’ll never see him again.

I
hate myself
.

I hate myself.

I
’m such a dirty bastard
.

“
G
ive me her number
.” After I’ve had a moment to calm down, I finally take a seat and decide to work out a plan to see her again. I can’t fucking let her go; especially not after the way I treated her.

“It’s her husband’s number.” My jaw ticks and I grind my teeth at his words.

“The fucker’s dead right?” My eyes bore into Johnny’s as my words come out with enough bite to let him know I’m still on edge. He starts to answer verbally, but decides to just nod his head. I keep staring at him, letting him get a good fucking idea of how pissed I am when he refers to that prick as her husband. “So he’s not her fucking husband.”

“Alright boss. You got it. I just-” he looks at the floor before continuing, “I just have his number. Not hers.”

“What’s her name?” I’m a fucking fool for not even getting her name.

He shuffles his feet, but keeps his eyes on me. He knows better than to back down, even if I am pissed off. I don’t have pussies working for me. I don’t fucking like weakness. “I don’t know.” My rage is getting the best of me. Of course he doesn’t fucking know. He probably doesn’t even know the real name of her dead husband.

“What’s his number? Give it to me.” Johnny immediately takes out his cell, pushes a few buttons. My phone on the bar beeps with a text.

It’s my doll’s dead husband’s number. Perfect. I call it. Why? I don’t fucking know why. I immediately hang the fuck up on the first ring. What the hell is wrong with me? What am I going to say?
Hey, sorry I fucked you like you were some slut. Didn’t mean to take advantage.
Fucking hell, I’m losing my touch. “I’m gonna send this over to Tony.” Tony will tell me everything he can about this number. From who it belongs to, to what that fucker ate for breakfast the day he died. More importantly, who his widow is.

“Johnny, how many of these fucking drops do I have to sit through today?”

“We’ve got three lined up, boss.” He answers.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I can’t shake my irritation. I need to calm down before shit gets out of hand. I roll my shoulders, throw my scotch back and pour myself another.

“Your ma having dinner tonight?” Johnny asks me like he has no clue. Must be his fucking nerves getting the best of him.

“Relax, I’m just a bit wound up.”

“What’d she say to you that’s got you on edge?” He asks.

“She didn’t say a god damn thing Johnny. I’m just curious.” He raises a brow in question.

“Her pussy that good?” He asks with a smirk.

“You really wanna push me right now?” That wipes the smile off his face and puts one on mine. I laugh at him and pour him a drink. I walk over to him, a glass in each hand. He takes it from my hand and gives a small nod in thanks. “Saluti.” I say clinking my glass with his.

“Saluti.” He takes a small sip and winces as the burn stings his throat. I chuckle and gulp back the rest. I shake out my arms and already feel a bit more relaxed. I throw my feet on the table and get ready to text Tony.

“What’s the cheers for, boss?”

I grin and press send on the text. I adjust in my seat and lean my head back on the sleek, black leather sectional. “Just found my new girl.”

His brows furrow in confusion and then disbelief, but he’s quick to correct himself. He takes another sip and walks to the window to look out over the field. It’s Sunday, but there’s nothing going on today. Team’s on break I take it. “Been a while for you hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s been a bit. I wanna take her on though.”

“She in to that?” He asks with very real curiosity in his voice.

“Nah, I doubt it; that’s not how I like em’. I enjoy breaking em’ in.” I groan and adjust my dick just thinking about taking a belt to her lush ass. Fuck, I didn’t even get a chance to truly enjoy her body. I smirk thinking of how I’m gonna punish her the second I get her alone for leaving like she did.

Johnny says, “I’ve been thinking about trying a thing or two, in the bedroom.” He looks out the window like he’s thinking real fucking hard about it. I snort at him, but before he can respond there’s a hard knock at the door. I run a hand down my face and then through my hair. I can’t wait to get this shit over with so I can go to Ma’s and finally eat something. As Johnny opens the door my phone goes off on the coffee table. Perfect fucking timing. I don’t want to deal with whatever prick owes me money. I lean down to pick it up and as I do hell breaks loose. A fucking bullet whizzes by my head, right where I just fucking was.

Johnny’s scuffling with the fucker who’s screaming for his life at the door. Johnny pushes him down, laying all his weight on top of him, with one hand over his mouth and the other on the silencer attached to the gun. I’m real fucking aware of exactly how the gun is pointed so I stay out of the line of fire as I jump over the sofa and make my way to the two of them. Johnny’s a pretty big fucking dude. He’s all muscle, broad chested and this puny fucker doesn’t stand a chance. He’s putting up one hell of a fight though.

My hand reaches into the waist line of my pants but my gun isn’t there. Fuck! I don't have my gun. I always fucking have my gun.  I look over to the door and its on the other side of the room.  The worst fucking place possible. I keep low with my eyes on Johnny and this dumb shit. You gonna take a shot at me, you better fucking make sure it takes me out.  Johnny carries reverse. I know right where his piece is.  I come up from behind him and let him know its me. 

"Grabbing your piece Johnny."  In one move I've got his gun pointed at this fucker's head.  He looks up wide eyed and finally stills ending the struggle.  "Keep your hand on his mouth and grab the gun."  

The guy’s eyes dart from me to Johnny.  I can tell he's figuring out that he's going to die right about now. He loosens his grip on the gun and starts shaking his head and screaming something through Johnny's hand. It's not help like I expected it to be. Even if he could scream out for help. No ones coming for him. I've had this suite for years. This wouldn't be the first time some chump thought he'd just kill me instead of paying his debt.

His muffled voice utters a sound that gets my attention. "Johnny, let the fucker talk."  

Johnny looks up at me with sweat covering his brow from the struggle. His face is red and he's still breathing like he's run a mile.  I jerk my head to the table by the door, "get mine; I wanna switch."  

Johnny rises slowly, grabbing the bastard's gun and walks to the door calmly, straightening out his jacket and tucking his shirt back in. I watch him from the corner of my eyes but my focus is on this skinny fuck looking straight into the barrel of the gun I've got pointed right between his eyes. 

"Last words?" I ask gripping the trigger more than I really should. I shouldn't kill him here. Not with Johnny's gun.  This fucker brought one with a silencer though. So it's his funeral. And I'll have to fix the flooring. But I bought extra wood the last time I remodeled. For this very fucking reason.  

"De Luca sent me."  He spits the words out with terrified eyes. I smirk at him. Yeah that’s what I thought he said. I don’t want to kill him with this gun anyway. So he can talk a bit more. Maybe I’ll learn something new.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I ask him, switching guns with Johnny and motioning for him to give me this fuckers gun. How damn sweet is that? He comes to kill me; I unload his gun in his head. Seems fair enough to me. The only thing that’s unfair is that I’ll have to rip out some of the hardwood flooring and replace it.

The scrawny prick is crying his eyes out. The smell of urine hits me and I look back at him with disgust. Did De Luca really think he’d get rid of me with this little piece of shit. I squat down to see him better and to put the gun closer to his head. I take a good look at his face and then settle to just reach into his pants for his wallet. I toss it at Johnny, not looking. Although this punk is young and scared for his life, but I don’t underestimate anyone. Not now, not ever. You never know when someone might surprise you. And I don’t fucking like surprises.

Not like that nice piece of ass today.
She
was a welcomed surprise. My dick starts getting all fucking excited thinking about being in that hot pussy again. Fuck. Now is not the time to let my mind go there. Although it does make me wanna end this shit sooner rather than later.

“De Luca’s pissed about the territory, he wants all yous dead.”

“All
yous
?”

“You need to learn to speak properly, Mr.?” I ask him, but not really. I know Johnny’s gonna answer and he does.

“Marco, Marco Bryant. Twenty three and an organ donor.” Johnny’s confident voice rings out from behind me and ends with a snort. Yeah, these organs are getting donated. I see him pocketing the wallet as I nod my head.
Bryant.
Just like I thought, he’s not full blood. No way De Luca gives a fuck about him.

“So Marco. You need to get your shit together. You think De Luca was really giving you a chance?” Marco starts trembling beneath me and widens his eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Fuck I wanna roll my eyes at this prick. But I don’t take chances.

“Don’t answer; I don’t really give a fuck.” I push the barrel of the gun between his eyes and ask, “you got anything else for me?”

“I’ll give you everything!” His eyes are darting between me and Johnny and his face is sweating like he’s stranded in a desert in July. Or like he’s about to lose his life. I can practically hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“Everything?” I ask with a smirk. He’s got nothing that I want. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with it. Unless he’s got that chick’s number, there’s nothing I want from him.

“I’ve got a house on south side and 40 K that’s-” I pull the trigger before he can finish. I miss the bang of the bullet, but it’s better this way. Nice and quiet. I get up quick so I don’t get any blood on my suit.

“Grab the list and see if he was one of the drop offs. If not this is gonna be one long fucking day.” I head over the bar and finally get my gun positioned right where I like it. That’s better.

“Got it, boss. Yeah he’s one of em.” My chest rumbles with a laugh. “Wonder if he has a history of making bets and he got that 40 K winning?” Johnny laughs as he picks Marco’s head up and starts wrapping it with saran wrap. Really distorts the fuckers head but it works well for keeping all the blood from getting everywhere.

“Drop him off at the vet before Ma’s.” Everyone in my family
knows
someone. My vet was a wonderful addition to my contacts. If you can cremate a 150lb dog, you can cremate a 150lb corpse.

“You really wanna push it? You know your Ma hates it when you’re late.” Johnny talks while he wipes up the blood. I flip the scrawny bastard over and pull him by his feet away from the mess.

I don’t answer Johnny. I’m always fucking late. She’d be surprised if I showed up on time. I stare at the rag in Johnny’s hand soaking up the blood. Damn, it’s a lot of blood. Never gets old. I stand up from the dead bastard and head back to the bar for a drink. Our glasses are somewhere else, but there’s plenty new ones to fill. And plenty of liquor to fill them with.

This is why I’m the bookie in the family. I didn’t really want to be a part of this shit. But with a name like Valetti, this shit tracks you down. “Yours is up here when you’re ready Johnny.” As soon as I set my glass down, there’s a knock at the door. Fucking perfect.

I walk over to Johnny and pick up Marco’s legs while he gets his upper body. This fucker looks small, but his dead, limp body is fucking heavy. We’ll dump him in the corner for now. I take a look at Johnny and straighten his jacket.

“You look good, just wipe your face,” I tell him and return to my glass.

“Uh, Dom?” Johnny asks while another knock rings through the suite.

“What?” I tilt my chin to the door. After that shit, I’m not opening it. I smirk at the thought.

Johnny motions to his hips while looking at mine. I take a glance down. “Fuck!” Mother fucker; fucking Marco ruined my 43 K Brioni suit. More than that dumb fuck had in the bank. I look over to his carcass slumped in the corner of the room behind the pool table as Johnny opens the door. One hand on the butt of my gun, the other on my drink, I listen but keep my eyes on the dead body in the room.

I’m vaguely aware of the transaction as the pit in my stomach sinks and my blood rushes in my ears as their voices turn to white noise. I fucking hate that I was born a Valetti. But it’s sure as shit better than being born Marco.