Made: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boy Games) (16 page)

Harley sucks in a gasp of air. My hand snakes up his leg while I look up at him. “Help me, Harley. I need your help so bad.”

He looks more lost and confused than angry or suspicious. I’m counting on the fact he won’t be able to take his eyes off my tits and my legs and my lips. Finally, he reaches out with one hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet. This time I’m the one making sure our bodies make contact every inch of the way from the ground.

I throw my arms around him. “Thank God you were here. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t.”

He raises an eyebrow, obviously still puzzled. His fingers paw through my hair. “What happened to you? Did that asshole Nathan do this? Because if he did, I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh no, Nathan’s not here. At least, I haven’t seen him, have you?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“N’aw,” he drawls. “Tucker said he’d come, but Tucker was wrong.”

“Tucker’s wrong about a lot of things.”

“Don’t you say nothing bad about Tucker. He’s my friend.”

I push out my bottom lip and gaze up at him through lowered lashes. “Are you sure about that? Because he hurt me tonight.”

Harley holds me at arm’s length, surveying the damage. His gaze keeps straying to my breast where I’ve rubbed mud and dirt to make it look as if I’m bruised. “This is Tucker’s fault?”

“He was mad that Nathan didn’t show up. He said he needed a reward for all the waiting he’d had to do.”

“What the fuck is talking about waiting?” Harley protests. “I’m the one stuck here with my hand on my dick.”

I lower my voice. “That’s the thing. You know how he promised you could have my sister?”

Harley licks his lips. The look of anticipation on his face makes me sick. “He told me he changed his mind. He says you don’t deserve us, and he’s going to take both of us for his own.”

He strokes my hair. “Girls are pretty when they cry.”

“I’d cry for you, but I can’t! Tucker won’t let me. He says I can only belong to him.”

Harley turns my hand over in his. “I stamped you. I marked you as mine. I told Tucker as much. He said it was okay. He’d make it okay for me to have you.”

My voice hardens. “Then he must have changed his mind because he tried to fuck me.”

His face darkens. “Tucker forgets a lot. He makes promises and then forgets. I try to overlook his lapses on account of all the time we’ve been together. Then he has to do and do something like that that just makes my blood boil.”

His emotional shifts that slide from sounding like an adult to more like a child are hard to follow. I can’t let myself think of him as vulnerable. This is a man who could snap me like a twig if Tucker gave the order.

Then he smiles again. “I know what you’re trying to do to me.”

My heart about stops. “What?”

“You like me. You’re fooling me about Tucker to make me jealous so I’ll fuck you.” He grins. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll fuck you anyway.” He shakes his head sorrowfully. “You won’t like it much. Most of the girls don’t. They break too easily. That’s why I wanted you. You’re not skinny or little.”

Go me.

Harley covers his mouth with mine. His breath smells like a sewer. It’s all I can do to stifle my gag reflex. When he lifts his head, it’s clear he’s going for my tits next. “Don’t you want to make sure it’s all right with Tucker first?”

“Tucker ain’t here. How’m I going to check with him if he ain’t here?”

“Remember those sexy texts you sent me earlier today.”

His hand cups my breast. “I knew you’d like them.”

Digging into the pocket of my jeans, I pull out the cell phone Marco De Luca gave me. “Use this.”

He frowns. “Nobody has Tucker’s number. Not even me.”

“This is his contact. He gave it to me.” I pull up the messaging app. “This is Tucker’s number.”

“Give me that.” He jerks the phone out of my hand.

I watch Harley peer at the screen and type with two beefy fingers, cursing occasionally and stabbing the phone.

Was my plan insane? Things could go horribly wrong if Harley asks Tucker for permission to fuck me, and Tucker gives the okay. I keep telling myself Tucker will never do that because he needs me to use as leverage over Nathan. Not that Tucker cares about me one way or another. He has to know what happens to the
toys
he gives Harley. I’m no good to him dead, and Nathan’s mother won’t live forever. Once she’s gone, I’m insurance Tucker can use to keep Nathan in line in case today’s
loyalty
test fails, as it will when Nathan fails to kill Alexander Ferrara.

Text messages pop up in response. Harley stares at the screen, his face turning red. “But she’s mine,” he mutters. “You said so. You promised.”

“What’s he saying?”

Harley ignores me. “No!” The word comes out like a howl of pain. “No, Tucker, no. You promised.”

Even though I know it’s a risk, I grab Harley’s arm. “Is there anything I can do?”

Harley stands before me, the phone in his palm. Then his fingers close on the device. It crumbles under the assault. He throws it on the ground and then stomps on it, twisting his foot until he grinds it into nothingness.

I’m so scared I can barely breathe. “What happened?”

His eyes flick to my chest, and he scowls. “Tucker made a mistake, a big mistake.” His head swings from side to side like a bull in the ring. “He can’t do that. Not to me. We’re tight. We’ve been tight all the way, every since we was kids.”

“You can tell me what he said.”

Fury blazes in his eyes. He takes a step forward, and I think he’s going to lift me and shake me like a rag doll in a dog’s jaw. Instead, he pushes me out of the way with so much force, I fall. He turns and shakes a finger at me. “Tucker thinks he can fire me and put Nathan in my place. That’s not going to happen. Tucker needs to understand that, then everything will be all right again.”

“That’s what he told me,” I shout to Harley’s retreating back.

He halts and turns back. “Told you what?”

“That Nathan is better than you. He never wants to see you again. If you ever show up at the club again, he’ll have you thrown out.”

Harley moves faster than should be possible for a man his size. His face looms too close. He picks me up and slams my body against the exterior wall of the garage. Pain arcs down my spine and across my shoulders.

“If you kill me, you won’t be able to fuck me. Then I’ll always belong to Nathan.”

I can practically taste his fear and anger. Each one wars with the other. In the end, anger wins. His massive hands release me. I fall to the ground and watch him jump behind the wheel of the limo and peel out of the driveway in a spray of gravel.

I stay on the ground for a long time, too spent and scared to move. It’s all up to Nathan now.

NATHAN

The smell of garlic and warm, fresh baked bread welcomes me to Caravello’s restaurant. It’s a hole-in-the-wall joint not far from the airport. They serve old school Italian food in giant bowls alongside mountains of greens with sliced tomatoes and wedges of fresh cheese. My stomach growls. I can’t remember the last time I ate, but it’s late afternoon now. Prime time for the old don to take his seat at his favorite restaurant. Unless I miss my guess, I’m going to find Alexander Ferrara with him; old-friends-turned-enemies who are now friends once more celebrating the bloodless re-organization of the syndicate.

Business as fucking usual.

What I want to know is why Cesare De Luca wanted to protect Tucker Voss while Ferrara wanted the bastard dead and why they had to lure me into their game.

The restaurant is nearly empty.

“Would you like a table or are you here to pick up a take-out order?”

“I’m meeting a friend. I think you might know him.” I glance over the hostess’ head at the red velvet curtains covering a doorway in the back.

She nods and leads me through the dining room, pulling the curtain aside to allow me to pass. A large, round table dominates the room. Cesare presides over it all like a king minus his throne with Marco at his side. Alexander Ferrara ducks his head in acknowledgment and takes a sip from his wine glass. I notice a fine tremor in his hand when he places the glass back on the table. Apparently the day has taken its toll on the billionaire, too.

I take the chair next to Ferrara. “Been a busy twenty-four hours.”

Ferrara regards me for a few moments. “You’ve done well. Better than we expected. If this had been a genuine game, you might have won.”

“You could have mentioned you’d already talked to him,” I say to Cesare, indicating Ferrara. “Would have made things a whole lot simpler if you’d simply told me the truth that you were both trying to take out Tucker Voss but couldn’t agree on how to do it.” There’s a hard, aggressive tone in my voice I know De Luca won’t appreciate. I’m beyond caring.

“You got the job done and in a more creative way than I’d have credited you with previously.”

I stare at Ferrara. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard?” Ferrara throws back his head and laughs. Then he extends a hand toward Cesare. “Can you believe it? He hasn’t heard.”

“A busy man doesn’t stop to count his victories.”

“Stop this right now,” I practically shout. “What the fuck happened?”

Marco De Luca jerks his head at a waitress in the corner. “Turn on the TV, Alicia.”

When the screen blooms to life, she flips through the channels until landing on the local news. The announcers are talking about political re-districting and upcoming elections. I ignore that shit and read the crawl at the bottom of the screen.

Responding to a tip, New Jersey police officers discover the scene of a gruesome murder. Details at six.

My insides clench and a tiny part of me worries about Brooke. I can’t stop feeling guilty for leaving her upstate. Since I can’t let Ferrara or Cesare know what I’m feeling, I throw it back at them. “So what? Like a murder in Jersey is supposed to be special?”

Marco’s expression turns grim. “Wait, there’s more.”

“Spare me the drama queen act, all right?”

He falters under my glare. “Whatever. They found the body at the offices of Harley & Sweet. We’ve got a guy on the inside with the Jersey cops. Word is it’s Tucker Voss.”

A silence fills the room save for the chatter of the news channel.

I cut a sharp look at Cesare. The old man remains mild and appears relaxed. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t touch Tucker Voss.”

Finally, Cesare speaks. “I know.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’re like a surgeon with your work, Nathan. Always precise.” He waves a hand at the television. “This kill was messy. Not your style.”

“Messy is a bit of an understatement,” Ferrara adds with a sardonic grin. “They might have to identify him by dental records. Something about his face being obliterated.”

I should feel elated. Worry nags at me. “Did they catch the killer?”

“They’ve got a line on his identity. Our guy on the inside says they should have him buttoned up before nightfall.” A line of tension unwinds. I won’t feel truly calm until Brooke is safe in my arms once more.

Cesare stands. “You’ve done everything that I asked, Nathan.”

“Where’s my mother?”

He glances at his Rolex. “She should be nearly to her new nursing home right about now. It’s about an hour outside the city, easy trip by train if you want. I’ll have Marco give you the information.”

Relief and something suspiciously like gratitude floods through my body. It finally hits me that I don’t have to worry about Tucker Voss ever again.

I’m free.

Someone grabs the remote from the waitress and click off the set. Out in the alley behind the restaurant, a cat yowls.

“Well,” Marco asks. “Don’t you want to know when the ceremony will be?”

“Ceremony?” I hate feeling out of the loop.

Cesare opens his palm to me. “You’ve served our family with honor, Nathan. It’s time for you to become a made man.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Cesare’s right, he did promise. The hell of it is that five years ago, I would have given anything—anything at all—to hear those words come out of Cesare De Luca’s mouth. Today it’s the last thing on my mind.

“Thank you for the offer. I don’t want it.”

A look passes between Ferrara and Marco De Luca that tells me they had a bet on how this was going to go. The way I’m reading the situation, Marco lost, which is fine by me.

The extent to which I don’t care about Cesare De Luca’s seal of approval makes new space inside my head.

“Think carefully, son.” Cesare watches me. “I won’t extend my hand to you again.”

“Look, I’m honored and everything. Truly. But if I’ve learned anything in the past few years, it’s this: I don’t want to live in the shadows anymore, even if that means I’m no longer one of you. I’ll take your secrets to my grave—”

“We’ll make sure of that,” Marco growls.

“—but I want to live the rest of my life in the sunshine.”

One of Cesare’s soldiers turns to the other. “He’s like a fucking commercial.”

“How can I know you will honor my trust and never sell or reveal what you know?” Cesare’s question is posed in a mild manner that carries no animosity. Doesn’t mean there isn’t a threat hidden behind the words, either.

“You don’t.”

Sorrow fills Cesare’s expression. “I didn’t want things to work out this way, my son. Alexander said you would turn me down. I refused to believe him.”

In another decade, we would have been teetering on the edge of a gunfight in this small banquet room. Cesare doesn’t want me to leave here alive until I’m under his thumb. Ferrara might have resolved his issues with Cesare, but he’s still working angles of his own. There will be De Luca men stationed in the alley out back, and more along the street fronting the restaurant.

Good thing I didn’t walk in here unarmed.

I turn to Marco. “You guy on the inside over in Jersey—he tell you if the Harley & Sweet offices had been ransacked?”

“Yeah, they were. How did you know?”

“A funny thing happened on the way doing Cesare De Luca a favor. While I was trying to figure out how much Tucker Voss had on the old fox, a friend of mine figured out how to access Voss’ files.” I let that news sink in. Voss might be dead, but the data he mined from his clientele was still worth millions, possibly billions.