Hold Me_A mafia romance Page 4

  “How do you know what I need?”

  She inhales deeply, her fingers sliding into my hair like she’s trying to keep me with her. “You’re a man, Rafe. I’ll never…” she trails off, her hand falling away from me as she does.

  I press my finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Says the girl who watched me in the shower.”

  “Rafe…”

  “You’re wrong by the way. I’m not trying to fix you. To fix something implies that there is something wrong with it.” And she’s so perfect in her fragility.

  “I wish that were true.” A sad smile touches her lips. “One day you’ll lose patience and realize just how worthless I am.”

  “Avecita, you’re the most priceless thing I’ve ever come across.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and a single tear slips down her cheek. Her hands cup my face, and she closes the small distance between us, pressing her lips against mine. My little warrior kisses me like I’m the air she needs to breathe.

  She’s wrong. I’m a patient man and for her, infinitely so. I saw the way she watched me in the shower. I saw the heat in her eyes, the way her body subtly strained towards me. She’s never been allowed to be curious, never known pleasure, or the genuine feel of lusting after someone. I see the way her eyes sometimes linger on me before she snatches her gaze away. She wants to look, but she doesn’t want to invite anything. I feel the tentative need in her kiss, in the way she gravitates towards me.

  I want every single part of her, but more than anything, I want her absolute unbreakable trust. It’s become a feral kind of craving, festering away at all rational thought. And I will have it. If I have to wait forever.

  5

  Anna

  I can see myself sitting behind a piano like a spectator to my own nightmare. The Master is standing over me. That twisted grin on his face as he watches me play. And across the room, is Rafael. He watches from the shadows, his thick arms folded over his chest as he observes. The song The Master made me write for him drifts through the room, the notes full of my pain and sorrow.

  Rafael moves closer and closer, as though lured by the music. “Avecita,” he says. I don’t look up from the keys. The Master smiles wickedly.

  “She’s mine. She’ll always be mine,” he says. Rafael looks at me, this version of me, his expression torn and broken. “I made sure of it when I broke her.” He grabs the hair of the damaged little girl sitting at the piano and twists her to face him, kissing her. She doesn’t fight him. She simply…complies.

  Rafael takes a step back and then another and another until he’s slipping into the shadows. I scream at him to come back, but he can’t hear me.

  I jolt awake, dragging air into my lungs rapidly. Sweat coats my body and my pulse pounds against my eardrums. Closing my eyes, I pull a hand through my damp hair. It’s just a nightmare, and nowhere near as bad as some of the others, but much harder hitting because it’s the first time Rafael has ever featured in my hellish dream world. The same dream, twice in one night. That’s shitty, even for me.

  I slide out of bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. I’d never tell Rafael, but the truth is, my nightmares are better when he sleeps with me. Maybe my subconscious knows I’m safe with him. Lately, he doesn’t seem to sleep much though.

  The dream plagues me long after I’ve showered and changed. I need to be around people and get out of my head.

  I go downstairs and walk into the kitchen. This has become my favorite part of the day because it feels normal. It feels like family. It feels like home. Maria hums to herself as she fries bacon in a pan. Carlos and Lucas are sitting at a farmhouse-style dining table in the middle of the room, bickering over something.

  I take a seat across from the two brothers and they both glance at me. “Anna,” Lucas says, smiling as he pours a mug of coffee for me.

  “Hey.”

  “So…” Carlos starts.

  Here we go. “So?”

  “Are we allowed to talk about your sister yet or is Rafe going to hand me my balls?” He grins, tipping his head back slightly until his hood shifts, revealing just a little more of his face. My eyes instinctively lock onto the two small teardrops beneath his right eye.

  I shrug one shoulder. “You probably know more about her than I do.”

  Maria drops a plate of bacon in the middle of the table, and Carlos snatches a piece, mumbling “That she’s a badass?”

  “Something like that.” A sick feeling settles into the pit of my stomach when I think of Una coming for me. Will she kill all of them if she finds me with them? Will she listen to me if I ask her not to? Will she try and take me against my will? Why hasn’t she come yet? So many questions, and I have no answers because she’s not the little girl who used to steal for me. They changed her, just as they changed me.

  “You should be pleased. Having someone like that in your corner…”

  I fidget uncomfortably until Lucas finally saves me, addressing Carlos. “Mum said you need to call her.”

  Carlos rolls his eyes. “That woman is loco.”

  Maria seemingly pops out of nowhere and clips him around the back of the head. “Don’t disrespect your Mama.”

  I press my hand over my mouth, covering a laugh. Carlos glares at me, and Lucas snickers. “She said you haven’t visited in months, and she wants to see the new baby.”

  I lift a brow at this. “You have a child?”

  Lucas snorts. “Try three.”

  “Wow. Are you married?”

  This time Lucas practically chokes on his laughter. “As if. He has three kids with three different women.”

  Carlos elbows his brother in the ribs before smirking at me. “I’m virile.”

  “Or incapable of bagging it up,” Lucas retorts.

  “Whatever.” Carlos pushes to his feet. “I have to go and train with Rafe.” He jerks his chin at Maria and me before he leaves the room.

  Lucas grins, clearly pleased with himself. “So, Anna, what are we doing today?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Well, technically, I’m your bodyguard, so where you go, I follow.”

  I glare at him. “You’re no fun.” He shrugs, and I think about it for a moment. I want to get out of the house, away from all of this…away from Rafael. I don’t think being around me is good for him. He’s wound so tightly, I’m sure he’s going to snap at any moment, and it’s my fault. That whole thing with the shower…what was I thinking? That can only be making it worse. I don’t want to be this delicate thing that he has to tiptoe around.

  “Let’s go and shoot.”

  He frowns for a second. “Okay. I’ll go and get some bullets. Meet me outside?”

  I nod and push up from my spot, making my way through the house. The rhythmical sound of muted thuds meets my ears, and my feet carry me towards the sound of their own volition. I lean against the doorway of the gym, watching Rafael as his bare fists pound over a punch bag so hard that I almost wince at the sheer force of each blow. The bag is wet with blood, but he doesn’t seem to care. Carlos strips out of his hoody and bounces around on a small matted area, small fingerless gloves covering his hands. Rafael joins him, and they circle, their attention completely fixed on each other. They’re like two predators looking for weaknesses. And the second Rafael sees one, he takes it, punching Carlos in the jaw and then the stomach. Carlos doubles over, coughing violently.

  “Fuck, Rafe!”

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Rafael growls at him.

  With a snarl, Carlos is up and punching Rafael in the face. They exchange blows so hard and fast I can barely keep up. My heart is hammering in my throat, my fingernails cutting into my palms as they release every inch of aggression they have on each other. Rafael always keeps the upper hand though, dominating with his sheer size. Thick muscles bunch and flex, sweat and blood blurring the lines of his tattoos into a collage of pure violence. And it’s here, when I see him like this, that I realize just how gentle he is with me. I’ve never seen this si
de of him, but I can tell it’s his natural state. Although a wolf can be tamed, it’s naturally wild and brutal. Rafael is a savage, a beast, and I’m trying to pet him through the bars of a cage.

  I push away from the door and rush along the hallway, my heart sinking like an anchor in an endless ocean. Hopelessness creeps up on me, but I should be used to it. After all, it’s been my only constant, but I find I resent it now.

  Lucas is already waiting for me outside, a satchel tossed over his shoulder and a bin bag in his hand. “You ready?”

  I nod. I want to lose myself in the deafening sound of a gun firing, the feel of the power in the palm of my hand. We go to the back of the house where there’s a small Eucalyptus grove. Lucas digs around in the bin bag and pulls out several beer bottles. He walks over to the low wall that surrounds the property and spaces the bottles out evenly.

  “I don’t think I’m that good of a shot,” I say.

  He smirks, handing me a pistol. “Not what I heard.”

  I check the clip and then line up my shot before flicking off the safety. My mind empties and all my focus shifts to the short barrel of the gun, and the glass bottle in my eye line. Nothing else. I fire, and the smashing of glass as the bottle shatters permeates the satisfying bang of the gun.

  Lucas snorts. “Not a good shot. Riiiight.”

  “That might have just been lucky.”

  He rolls his eyes and takes a shot, missing the first time, and hitting a bottle the second. We stay out here for hours until we’re all out of bullets and bottles.

  We walk over to a little stone bench that sits in the corner of the grove. There’s a tiny patch of daisies between the seat and a large stone pot, almost as if the gardener missed that bit when he was weeding. I crouch down and pick a handful, placing them on the bench before I sit cross-legged on it and set about making a daisy chain. Lucas watches me intently, his brows furrowed together as though he’s completely confused. It’s childish and simple, but it’s something Una and I used to do when we were little girls. I’d forgotten it until now. She would braid my hair and tuck the little flowers into the plaits.

  When I’m done, I place it on Lucas’ head like a crown. He scowls at me, and I laugh. “You look so pretty.”

  He rolls his eyes and picks up a single stray daisy off the bench in front of me. He reaches out and tucks it into my hair behind my ear. “So pretty,” he says, before blushing so hard, I’m sure all the blood has vacated his body.

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  We stay there, talking and laughing for what seems like hours. Lucas is so easy going. He couldn’t possibly be considered as any kind of threat. He’s light-hearted and easy to be around in a way that I’ve never known before. He almost makes me feel normal. I could imagine in another life we’d be friends. We’d meet for coffee and go to bars. Maybe we’d go to college together. I smile at the whimsical thought.

  “Really, Lucas?” Rafael’s distinctive deep voice snaps me from my daydreaming. He’s looking at Lucas, one brow raised as he takes in his daisy chain crown. Lucas snatches it off his head, and I glare at Rafael.

  “Leave him alone. I made it for him.” Rafael’s lips twitch.

  Lucas turns beet red. “I…uh, have to…go.” Standing up, he practically trips over himself to get away.

  Rafael must have only just left the gym. How long was he in there? Hours? His vest is soaked through with sweat, a stark reminder of the pent-up aggression he just unleashed on Carlos. I hate that I’m driving him to that. Avoiding his gaze, I brace my hands against the edge of the bench and lean back, closing my eyes. The suns rays heat my skin, and the soft breeze stirs the strands of my hair.

  “Always in the sun, avecita.” I turn to face him, and he swats at a bug. “It’s hot as fuck out here.”

  “It’s Mexico. Of course it’s hot.”

  “I thought Russians liked the cold.”

  “I’m not sure I can really be counted as Russian anymore.” I hold my arm out, glancing at the golden hue of my skin.

  He sits next to me, picking up a strand of my blonde hair. “You’re still a rare bird, avecita.”

  He tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, revealing his damp chest and abs. I force myself not to look, and instead pluck one of the discarded daisies from their spot on the bench next to me, caressing the soft petals. I hate that I suddenly feel so awkward around him of all people.

  “Nero called,” he finally says. I still and seemingly so does everything around me: the sound of the gentle breeze, the cicadas… it all stops. Whatever temporary moment of peace we were having is instantly shattered.

  “What did he want?” Is he coming after Rafael? Is Rafael going to suffer repercussions because he denied Nero?

  He drags a hand through his hair. “He called to say that he has vague whereabouts on Una. She’s in Europe.”

  I frown. “Europe? Why?”

  He shrugs. “She is from there. But I guess she’s trying to outrun the hit.”

  “Who would try to assassinate an assassin?”

  He sighs. “In our world, there must always be balance. One crime organization gains too much power, and it throws everything off. Una is supposed to be neutral. But Nero just had her kill four Italians, all fairly influential. It put a target on her back. I’d say it’s one of the mob bosses.”

  “Why would she do that in the first place?” He glances at me, lifting a brow. “He bought me…to get to her.”

  He nods. “Nero is gaining power and your sister is sure to be at the top of the Italians’ shit list.”

  “Surely they know he hired her?”

  “Let’s just say Nero has some powerful friends, and he’s without the usual mafia morals. Without solid proof, no one is going to be brave enough to point the finger at him.”

  “So my sister is now being hunted because of him?”

  He sighs. “She chose to do it, Anna.”

  “For me.”

  “She’ll be fine. Whoever’s brave enough to go after her will get a nasty surprise. Not to mention the fact that Nikolai Ivanov will lose his shit. He’s very attached to her from what I hear. No one wants that crazy bastard after them.”

  I shift closer to him and lean my head on his shoulder, needing his closeness. It’s all so messy. “Does Nero still want me to go to him?”

  “I don’t care if he does.”

  Despite the heat, I shiver. “I hate this,” I say quietly.

  Rafael grabs my thigh and yanks me across his lap in one move. I try to shift away from him, but his fingers spear into my hair, holding me to him. I’m instantly acutely aware of every part of his body that’s touching mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Rafe, you’re putting yourself right in the middle of shit that shouldn’t concern you.” His jaw tenses, his expression hardening. I scratch my nails over the stubble on his face. “I only mean that this isn’t good for your business.”

  “Fuck business.” I tilt my head back with a sigh. I want to scream because it seems I’ll never escape fate. It always seems to follow me. His fingers tighten, and he touches his forehead to mine. “Fuck everything that isn’t this, right here.”

  “At some point, the bubble will burst,” I whisper. I feel like it’s already straining under everything.

  “What bubble? Everything we are is born from chaos, little warrior. Life in the cartel is dangerous. You know this.”

  “I didn’t choose to be a part of the cartel.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  It’s right there on the tip of my tongue. Even staying with him was never a choice. When choosing between the cartel and the mafia…well, it’s a rock and a hard place, isn’t it?

  “I chose you. Not the cartel.”

  “It’s one and the same, avecita.”

  He reaches for my face, but I grasp his hand mid-air, glancing at his split knuckles; a very real reminder of exactly who and what he is. My gaze lifts from his bloodied skin to his face. “You
hurt yourself.”

  He tightens his fist, and the skin starts to bleed again. “It’s necessary. Sometimes you break something to make it stronger.” I trace my fingers over what looks like years of scar tissue over his knuckles. Broken, again and again, to make the skin tougher and stronger.

  Make it stronger. Like him. Like Una. “Teach me to fight,” I blurt.

  He frowns. “Anna…”

  “Make me stronger. Please.” I need to be stronger in every way.

  He tilts his head back on a groan. “You don’t need to fight.” His gaze meets mine, and he strokes fingers over my cheek gently. “I’ll always protect you.”

  “And what if you can’t always be there?”

  His eyes tighten. “Are you planning on leaving?”

  “Rafael, I can’t always be tied to your side. Those guys came into your house and took me while you weren’t there. If I’d been able to defend myself…”

  “You can defend yourself.” He stands up, taking me with him before he drops me to my feet. He says nothing as he marches back toward the house, dragging me behind him. Leading me through the house, we go to his office. He goes over to a picture behind the desk, an oil painting of a beach. It swings away from the wall, revealing a safe behind it. With the press of a few buttons and a beep, the metal door swings open.

  “I gave this to Violet on her sixteenth birthday,” he says, his back still to me. Turning around, he places a gun on the desk. “I want you to have it.”

  I glance at the silver gun, so inconspicuous, but it was his sister’s, which means it has meaning. “I can’t take your sister’s gun.”

  He sighs and braces both hands on the desk. “It’s not like it could have saved her, Anna. Please. Have it.” Picking it up, he checks the clip before handing it to me, butt first. “And now you can defend yourself. You don’t need to fight.”

  There’s something in his eyes, almost close to panic, so I decide to let it go. For now. “Thank you.”

  I shove the gun into the waistband of my shorts, and he smirks. “Be careful.”