Sick Bastard (25 page)

Dante

I lost it. My temper, my anger, all in a blind rage. It all just took over. I almost killed someone for what I let happen. I slipped, and London almost paid for it dearly. Her green eyes are red and wet with unshed tears. She’s fucking terrified of me.

“Come on.” I urge her towards the bedroom and away from the mess in my office. The last thing I need is my inquisitive little London poking around in there.

“Were you going to shoot him?” Her voice trembles as the words leave her lips. Yes.

“No, London, I was just upset. It’s a scare tactic.” I was gonna put one between his eyes. Maybe not right at that exact moment, but it’s inevitable. I have no tolerance for stupidity and he’s full of it. He had one simple job. All he had to do was watch her go into the building and come out, making sure no one was following her. I may have fucked up by trusting him while I was making phone calls, but it was his job to follow those very simple orders. He dropped the ball and she was almost taken from me.

“But you had a gun at his head. Why?” I don’t answer her. Any other time her question would bother me, but right now, I just need her cooperation and trust.

“Get in bed, beautiful girl. Like I said, it’s a scare tactic that works.” With not so much as a look back, she crawls in, burrows herself in the comforter and gets comfortable.

Turning to leave, I take a step towards the door, “Dante?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t kill Pete. I will beg you if I have to, but please don’t kill Pete. None of this was his fault.” It was his job to watch. He knew something was coming because that’s what he does, he gets information. We’ve had eyes on her father and his people, and Pete turned his back for a minute, letting this happen. He missed it and we could’ve been too late to get to her. “It wasn’t his fault, Dante, and you know it. It’s not his job to keep me safe, nor is it yours. This is my father’s fault, and that’s on me, not Pete.”

“Okay.” I give in. I’d tell her anything to keep that sadness out of her tone and those tears out of her eyes.

“Have you seen or heard from Matt?” She asks.

“I called him for you and he’ll be over in the morning.” She unfolds herself from the covers and reaches out to me. I go to her and sit beside her on the bed where she wraps her legs around me and sits in my lap. I’m completely shocked when she wraps her arms around my neck, giving me something that I have desperately needed from her but didn’t realize it until this very moment. She hugs me and I hug her back just as tightly. The thought of losing her today scares the fuck out of me, but she’s here in my arms, needing me to comfort her as much as I need it from her. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“My head and face are sore, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for everything, Dante, especially for saving my ass. You ask if I need anything? Yes, I do. I only need you.”

Fuck, those words are music to my ears. I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna be right here.

~~~~~~

I’m plotting retaliations, calculating expiration dates, and culminating plans, but all I can truly focus on is London. Her fucking scream is still echoing in my head.

I knew I shouldn’t have let her out of that car alone. I knew better. Lost in the fire in those defiant green eyes, I let her go by herself, throwing her out to the sharks. The one goddamn time I don’t follow her and
this
mess is made.

I fucking told her. She may not understand the reasons behind my decisions, but maybe she’ll see them now. Nothing I do happens without a great deal of thought and consideration, but I let that go for her. Big fucking mistake on my part.

Sitting in my car, answering emails and taking calls, it happened so fast. Tires squealing, people yelling, and her desperate scream tore through the car.

It was surreal. I fought with the car door trying desperately to get out. Standing on the sidewalk, I fumbled with my gun while my eyes were trained on the man with his hands on her. I never fumble. I never hesitate. It’s the one goddamn thing I know. I was trying to get to my gun to kill the son-of-a-bitch who was pushing her towards a van.

The sidewalk was a disaster. People were standing around watching―some screaming, while others were trying to help. I’m not sure how long it took me to get to my gun, but the moment my hand was on it, I took aim.

I knew if I shot him London would go over with him, but fuck, I didn’t have a choice. It was either shoot him and they both go down or let him take her away from me. I had no fucking choice. If only I’d made her stay in the car, she would’ve been safe.

Taking a drink of my Bourbon, my hands shake and the ice rattles against the glass. I remember the loud crack of the gun, once a favorite sound of mine, now leaves little to be desired.

It’s only minor bruising, a small concussion, a few cuts, and a little swelling, but it’s so much more than that. Once she hit the ground and tried to get up, I watched that piece of shit pull his own gun and slam down into the side of her head. He could’ve killed her right there and I was still aiming my fucking gun. She should have never been alone in the first place. No one should have touched her. And if I have my way, no one will ever fucking touch her again.

London

Tearing the blankets from the side of the bed, I wrap myself up and cuddle down deeper. I can hear Dante’s loud commanding voice and Matt’s carelessly casual one working it’s way towards the bedroom. Three…two… one… the door flies open with a thud.

Matt lands on the bed next to me. “Mornin’ bitch!” He sings cheerily, smiling ear to ear as he gives me a once over. He’s been here for four days, keeping me company and driving Dante insane. We’ve played board games, watched movies, caught up on the celebrity gossip, and indulged in terrible food while we laid in Dante’s plush king size bed.

“Hey, your face looks less puffy.” It feels less puffy too. My face was fine, really. A few scrapes down the side and a bruised knot on my temple. The side of my head took the biggest hit. I’ve sustained worse injuries during high school gym class, but Dante took it to the extreme like only he can, and he’s been worrying tirelessly over me.

“Yeah, thanks.” I think. Looking up from Matt, I see Dante lingering by the bedroom door. He looks a little unsure while he gives me a thorough once over. Dante’s still treating me like cracked glass.

“You mind if I take off?” Matt asks, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Nope.”

“Good, I’ve got some hair to do and a hot date.” Touching my hair he frowns. “But maybe I’ll stay and fix your hair. It really does look like shit.” Jesus.

“Go away,” I tell him.

Placing a kiss on my forehead, he leaps up, “Later, tater! Loves you.” Too gay for his own good, he blows three air kisses my way. Passing Dante on his way out the door, he touches his arm. “Catch you later, handsome,” he whispers and winks. Dante pales and takes a few steps back, which Matt only finds amusing.

“Go away, Matt. Oh, and love you too.” I call after him. Throwing up the peace sign, he disappears through the door.

I watch Mr. Personalities stare at me from the doorway, wearing a pair of black trousers and his usual white button down shirt, but he’s working on his watch in slow, measured twists. He looks insecure, tense, and sexy.

“Dante, what’s wrong?” I ask him. Pushing himself from the doorframe, he straightens.

“I made you breakfast,” he says hesitantly.

“You did?” I’m pleasantly surprised, although I would’ve loved to watch him cook it too.

“Yes.” Well now, there’s my reason to get out of bed. “But first, come here.” He summons me. I don’t challenge his bossiness today.

I’m put on the bathroom counter with little effort. Dante’s back is to me as he digs through a cabinet like a man on a mission. “What are you doing?” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t stop what he’s doing when he answers me.

“I’m gonna fix you,” he states. He’s going to
fix
me?

“How are you gonna fix me, exactly?” I ask suggestively.

Looking over his shoulder, he gives me that look, “Behave.”

“No.” Shaking his head, he goes back to what he was doing. Damn it, four fucking days and he’ll barely look at me in fear of me shattering into a million little pieces. I’m gonna kick his ass.

Sitting on the bathroom counter, He forces his way between my thighs with a handful of medical junk that he dumps next to me on the counter. “Are we gonna play doctor?”

“London, you’re very cute when you’re trying to persuade me into fucking you.”

“Is it working?”

Putting a dab of antibacterial cream on his finger, he smoothes my hair out of my face with his other hand.

“I’m not fucking you right now. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“But you won’t, dammit!” I protest and pout. Running his finger along the cut on my hairline, his eyes blacken and his lip curls ever so slightly.

“Shh.”

I let him tend to me, taking care of my cuts, bruises, and every other need. It’s like this has become his daily mission. He cleans me up, feeds me, has me entertained, and dotes on me constantly. A girl might get used to all the adoration he’s showering on me.

Helping me off the counter, he turns me towards the door. “Now to feed you,
cara.”

The breakfast bar is covered with bacon, fruits, even cereals. “You made all this?” I’m hungry, but I’m not sure I’m that hungry.

“No. I made the crepes, though.” He says proudly. Reaching for the crepes, I pull them to me. “Well then, that’s what I’m eating!”

Popping another mouthful of fruit filled, whip cream covered crepe in my mouth, I hum with appreciation.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He asks.

“Mmm, good.” I mumble with my mouth full. “Why are you all the way over there?”

“I’m letting you eat your breakfast in peace.”

“What if I don’t want you to leave me in peace?” I wink.

“Eat your food, beautiful.”

Since the day after my almost abduction, Dante’s been locked away in his office, working on “handling” the situation. I don’t ask because I’m not sure I really wanna know. He promised me no more violence and I’m holding him to it. Today is the first day he’s spent more than thirty consecutive minutes with me. He’s been taking care of me, but only for short spurts, then he gets back to his “business”.

“I think I’m going to go home today.” I tell him.

“No.”

“No? I didn’t ask you.” Pushing away from the counter, I get up. God, I’m so full.

“London, go get back in bed.” Sitting his coffee cup down, he points back down the hall.

“I need to go home. I can’t stay here forever.”

“No you don’t and yes, you can.” Here we go.

Walking down the hall I yell back over my shoulder, “I’m going home, crazy!”

“The fuck you are,” He counters, right on my heels.

“Dante, don’t be dense. I’m ready to go home. As much as I’d like to be locked in your dungeon forever, I have a life outside of your apartment, sorta, and I need to go home.”

Walking around his room, I look for my stuff. Collecting the little bit of shit I have here with me, I shove it all into my purse. I wore Dante’s shirts the entire time I’ve been here. Hmm, maybe I could just stuff one in my bag for later. “I’ll see you again. I’m just going home.”

“Put the fucking bag down and get in bed.” He orders.

“No.”

“London.” He growls. Leaping onto the bed, I run over to the other side, but he advances on me. Picking up a pillow, I toss it at Mr. Bossy Fuck.

“No!” The pillow misses him by a mile. Well there went that point.

“Back in bed, you little
culo
pazzesco.
”

“Did you just call me a crazy ass?” Throwing his hands up in the air, he grumbles more shit in Italian under his breath. I know enough Italian, but not a lot.

“You leave me little choice.”

Scooping me up, he hauls me off the floor, throws me on the bed and crawls over me. Gathering up my hands, he holds them above my head. “Let me go right now!” I plead. “I need to go home, please.” It suddenly hit me in the kitchen that I needed a little space. I’m gonna go crazy if he continues to keep me in bed and in this apartment. I need to breathe.

“No. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Dante.” I protest.

Watching me for a moment he looks me over. “Fine, but I’ll take you. I’ll walk you up, and you’ll call me tonight.”

“Yes Sir,” I grumble.

Kissing my lips softly, he asks, “Please don’t wander. Please be careful and for fuck’s sake, call me. It’s the only way I can function anymore.” His voice is sincere and his eyes are pleading. How am I supposed to fight with that?

“Fine.” I concede. Anything to get him to let up.

“Thank you, London.” Then he kisses me softly.

~~~~~~

I’ve called my grandfather. He’s out of the country for six weeks, which means I get six weeks to myself before he puts me to work. I wanna throw my arms out and do the
Sound of Music
spin. It’s been years since I’ve gotten anything longer than a week to myself, so what the hell will I do with six fucking weeks? I didn’t tell him about what happened because there’s nothing he can do from another country but rush back home. I need to find ways to protect myself, and there’s also Dante who’s probably having me watched from an apartment across the street somewhere, maybe even a rooftop. It’s a possibility.

I start my six weeks with ordinary housework and a little primping. I’ve done laundry. I cooked some lunch for Matt and myself. Hell, I even cleaned out the fridge.

Matt and I are now sitting in the living room watching a movie and munching on crap food. “Toss me the remote,” I tell lazy ass Matt, who’s currently hanging off the other side of the couch like a slouch. Picking up the remote, he doesn’t toss it, he hurls it at me. Bypassing my outstretched hand, it crashes into the bookshelf.

Books topple over and picture frames crack and fall. “What the fuck, Roger Clemens?” I look from the shelf to him.

“Who?” Matt asks from the couch. Seriously?

“He’s a pitcher―never mind. What the fuck? Were you trying to knock me the fuck out?” Laughing, he slumps further into the couch.

“Nah.” Asshole.

Picking up the remote and it’s scattered batteries, I set about cleaning up the glass and the mess. Sitting the picture frame back on the shelf, I notice a little dime sized black thingy stuck to the corner of the frame.

“What’s this?” I ask Matt, waving the frame around.

“What’s what?” Handing him the frame, I point to it. Looking at it for a few moments, he looks up to me with his eyes the size of saucers, “Is this a… oh shit, London. Check it out.” He hands it over to me and I take a closer look.

“No way. Is this one of those little hidden cameras, or some sort of bug?” Matt nods.

“Dante,” I roar, jerking my phone off the coffee table. I’m gonna kill him.

~~~~~~

“You put cameras in my apartment?” I yell and shove the picture frame at a stunned Dante. Standing at my door, he sticks a cautious hand out for the frame. He looks at me and back to the frame like it may be a bomb. Turning the frame over in his hands, he studies it carefully for a silent moment.

“London?”

“Don’t
London
me. Why would you put CAMERAS in my fucking house?” Screwing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t put cameras in your apartment.” He states evenly. Liar. Liar. Liar.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I put cameras in your apartment?” That’s what I’ve been asking myself. Why does he do half the strange shit he does?

“Why would you break in?” I throw in his face.

“To see you.” Ah, he’s smooth.

“That’s what cameras are for―to see me. So again, why would you put cameras in my house?”

“If I wanted to see you, I’d just break in. It’s not like I try and hide the shit I do, London. Be realistic here, will you?” He laughs. Oh yeah, he’s so funny. I wonder how funny he’ll be with the picture frame shoved up his ass.

Handing the frame to Cam, he looks it over. “Cute pic, London.” He chuckles. The picture is of Matt and me sitting on a dock on the lake a few years ago.

“Shut up, Carmine,” Dante grumbles. This is completely fucked. I’ve got my father and Perry’s bullshit to deal with. I’ve got Dante
everywhere,
and I never know what to expect with him. It’s all piling up. They’re all going to drive me fucking crazy.

Grabbing my arm, Dante tugs me into him. “Don’t say or do anything you don’t want recorded. If there’s one, there’ll be more, and where there are cameras, there are microphones. Out in the car we can talk.” Pulling away, he nods at the door. “Go.” He instructs tersely. I go, but not without giving him an elbow check while passing.

Sliding into the car, he’s already on the phone, talking feverishly with purpose and rage. “Sweep the entire place, top to bottom. I want you to check every square inch of her place. Find them all.” He ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket. Leaning into his seat, he rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. Staring straight ahead he says, “You’re coming back home with me, and before you have one of your fucking selfish tantrums, I’ll tell you that you can’t be here with cameras and God knows what else. Someone put those in your apartment to spy on you. I’ll assume Matt will have somewhere to stay, and if not, he’ll stay with us.” Well fuck. Looking out the window and up to my apartment, my stomach drops. After that little trip on the sidewalk and now this, I’m not sure I can handle much more.

He’s right. We can’t stay here, but I don’t wanna be held hostage in his apartment, either. Reluctantly Matt took off when Dante insisted that he had it under control. Matt couldn’t stay at our place and he wasn’t interested in hanging with Capitan Crazy. He headed to a friends place, but not before insisting I call him as soon as Dante knows something. Kissing his cheek, I made him the promise before sending him on his way. Lucky for me,
I’m
now stuck with Captain Crazy.

“I can’t be locked away, Dante.” I tell him honestly. For the first time in a while, I get what he’s saying. I’m not being mean or bitchy, I just need some space from this city and situation.