Hit and Run: A Mafia Hitman Romance (2 page)

And God help me, I shiver. He smells good. Like…vetiver and a hint of bergamot. The smell makes me dizzy.

I watch from the podium as Cain shakes my father’s hand. They clearly have come to some sort of understanding or dawning of recognition, because Cain ends up joining my dad at his table.

I bite my fingernails nervously. I wonder what on Earth my dad has to talk to me about.

CHAPTER TWO

CAIN

So she’s fucking hot.

Her. Elizabeth.

And of course she is.

Why wouldn’t she be?

It’s always the woman I can’t touch who ends up being this juicy fucking forbidden fruit. Her ass, tits, hell, even her hair is more than I can possibly handle. She has curves for days and is working that black miniskirt for all it’s worth.

I’d like to rip apart her black tights and get inside to the good stuff.

I’m good at the good stuff.

I’m actually fucking
great
at the good stuff.

I try to sneak as many glances as I can of her when Tony, her dad, isn’t looking. I can’t possibly let him catch me perusing the wares. I’ve been after the boss’s daughter one too many times in my life. It’s one reason why my nose looks the way it does: it’s been broken more times than I can possibly count.

Tony gets up from the table and waves Elizabeth over. They disappear into a back room together.

“So, you good for tonight’s fight?” The dark-haired, middle-aged guy who tried to get friendly with Elizabeth asks the question. I think his name is Vinny. He sure looks like a Vinny, all slicked-back greasy hair and gold chains.

Yeah, I saw him cop a feel. And I saw the look on Elizabeth’s face when he did it. I’d like to take a swing at him. That would make me feel fucking good.

“I’m good,” I say to him. “I’m the best. That’s why I’m here.”

He nods and tosses back his drink. The table is littered with empty glasses but nobody seems to mind. “Where’s that little bitch?” Vinny asks.

I nearly crush my glass with my hand. But I’ve gotta keep my temper. “Hey, maybe use her name?”

Vinny laughs. “That’s funny. You’re a real funny guy. I hope you don’t take the ring as lightly as you take everything else.”

“Trust me. I’m serious when I get behind the ropes,” I say.

The conversation turns to some other topic that bores me to death. I let my mind wander back to Elizabeth, to ripping off her tights and moving her panties to the side so I can get into the tight spots with my tongue.

She’s the boss’ daughter. But I’m thinking she’s worth another broken nose for me.

CHAPTER THREE

ELIZABETH

“What’s up?” I ask my dad, hopping up on a closed crate of fresh tomatoes.

My dad furrows his greying, bushy eyebrows. “How are you doing here at the restaurant?”

I have two answers to this: the truth and the lie. I go with the lie. “Fine, Daddy. Everything is fine here.”

He nods. “I think you’re doing
too
well, Elizabeth. You’re too comfortable here. I want to change that.” He paces back and forth. “You’re a beautiful, energetic young woman. And I don’t think a restaurant is any place for you anymore. You need to grow up and be allowed to live life outside these walls. As hard as that is for me to admit, it’s the truth.”

I feel a surge of excitement. Surely this isn’t happening, though. I’ve wanted to go to college for years, but my dad has always insisted I say close, safe, and bored to tears every day. “I’d love to, Daddy,” I say.

He looks surprised. “Really? Well, I’m sure glad to hear that, Lizzy.” He opens his arms and we hug each other. I hear the clanging of the kitchen bell that signals food is in the window and ready to come out. “Now get out there and get the meatballs to the table before Gino has another coronary. Oh, and Lizzy?”

“Yeah, Daddy?”

“I want you to come to the fight tonight, alright?”

I gape at him. I’ve never been allowed to a fight before. “Are you serious?”

He laughs. “This is a big day, Lizzy. I want you to see everything.”

I laugh and nearly skip to the kitchen. I can’t believe I’m finally going to be free of this place.

***

I change into jeans and a black t-shirt in honor of the fight. I check my ass in the mirror. It looks good.

“Lizzy Venetia Romano,” my dad calls.

That’s never a good sign when he uses all three of my names, I know that much. “Coming!”

I rush out into the living room and grab my puffy, black coat. “Ready.”

He nods. “Good, the driver’s here.” He’s deep into his emails on his phone. I’ve never seen a man over sixty so obsessed with his phone. He’s like a teenaged girl.

We step out of our New York brownstone and out into the bitter mid-December wind. Colorful Christmas-light-covered trees glint out of windows, the curtains thrown uncharacteristically open to show off the brilliant décor within the walls.

I love December in New York. On the ride to the fight, I wonder if my dad will let me go ice skating at Rockefeller Plaza this year. Usually he says it’s too dangerous. I glance up at the front seat where my dad’s bodyguard sits pensively. He’s nearly four hundred pounds of pure muscle, but don’t let that fool you. Ed babysat me once and cried like a baby during
Toy Story 2
.

“Can we go ice skating this year?”

My dad doesn’t look up from his phone. In fact, he puts it to his ear and starts yelling in Italian.

I sigh and lean back in my seat. Maybe not everything has changed.

We pull up to a gritty building with black-painted plywood covering the exterior. There’s a bouncer at the door. He opens it for me, my dad, and Ed.

“Mr. Romano,” the bouncer says.

We’re shunted into a small landing that immediately turns into a narrow staircase. I can hear people yelling below us. The air is thick with sweat and something else I can’t put my finger on.

When we reach the crowded room below, I realize the rusty scent is blood.

I glance up at the ring and see that it’s empty. All around us, people are passing around stacks of money, worn pencil nubs slipped behind the ears of bookies. People are yelling and I feel a surge of adrenaline.

It’s been ages since I’ve been in a crowd like this. I feel like I’m standing on the pulse of the city right now. It’s exhilarating.

My dad grabs my elbow and pulls me to a VIP area. It’s separated by a velvet rope, black leather sofas sitting behind it. “You wander off, take Ed with you, alright? Don’t go anywhere else. You understand?”

I don’t answer; instead, I grab Ed’s arm. “I want to be in the front row,” I yell to him.

He nods and follows me like a shadow. I’m used to it.

My dad is the head of one of the most prestigious mafias in New York. There are about a hundred men who want to kidnap me and hold me for ransom as leverage against my dad. It’s why I’ve been in bubble wrap for so long.

I push my way to the front row. Soon, two muscular guys in boxing gloves enter the ring. The crowd roars and my eardrums buzz. I join in with the screaming.

The referee rings the bell and the fight begins.

Blood splatters all over the greying mat within seconds. I realize some of it could feasibly get on me, but I don’t care. I’m not the least bit squeamish. One guy is down in seconds.

Ed pulls me back slightly but I protest. “Come on!” I object.

He gives me a shake of his head.

I sigh. There’s no arguing with him about this. The fighters go two more rounds but it’s a TKO.

The crowd half groans and half cheers. The next fighter takes the ring.

And then his opponent shows up.

I gasp.

It’s Cain.

Shirtless Cain.

Ripped abdomen Cain.

Tight-ass Cain.

He’s even more gorgeous with his shirt off. He has tattoos over nearly every inch of his torso and tattoo sleeves on his arms.

And now he’s sweaty from warming up.

I wonder how sweaty he’d be after fucking.

No. I can’t go there.

Because of this: he came to my father’s restaurant because he’s fighting for him.

And if Cain is fighting on my father’s behalf?

Cain is just one of his minions. A hitman. A killer.

That’s how it always is.

I could never be with someone like that.

Maybe for one night…

No. Not even for one night.

As this sinks in, Cain instantly becomes eighty percent less attractive. Okay, maybe not eighty percent. Like, fifty percent.

I’m stubborn. I hate all the guys in my dad’s world.

I’m pulled out of my reverie by the feeling of eyes on my body. I look up and realize that Cain is looking at me and smiling.

And now I’m blushing. I cross my arms over my chest and give him a cold, dead-eyed stare. He just laughs at me.

Most guys say that I can be intimidating. But I guess Cain isn’t most guys. He sees right through me.

The bell rings and the fight begins. It’s over as soon as it began, his opponent absolutely crumbling under Cain’s movements. He’s so fluid, so graceful. I know it’s weird to say that about a boxer, but that’s the only way I can describe it. It’s like he floats around the ring, his hands in perfect time with his body, always one step ahead of his opponent. It’s a TKO.

The ref holds up Cain’s boxing-gloved hand in victory. Cain winks at me as the crowd cheers his name.

The ref picks up a megaphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please, let’s have some quiet.” The crowd mostly stops talking and yelling, nothing left but the shuffling sounds of money exchanging hands. Then, to my absolute surprise, my father steps into the ring. He’s more nimble than he looks; Cain holds the ropes apart for him and my dad writhes smoothly between them and onto the mat.

My father holds up his hands and even the sound of money stops. I’m used to this. Everything stops for my dad. Everything.

“Hey,” my dad says, his New Jersey accent apparent more than ever. “This was a very special fight, in case you all didn’t know that.”

A few people start to whisper.

“It’s been a long time coming, and we need something to reunite the families that have been warring in this room for decades.”

More whispering.

What the hell is going on?

“It’s time for the Maggianos and the Romanos to stop fighting. I’m an old man. I can’t take much more of this.”

I rub my ears, not sure if I’m hearing properly. Surely this is some kind of joke?

“So I’m proud to introduce to you all Cain Maggiano, who led a stunning display tonight.”

I look at Cain. He looks just as confused as I probably do. My father seems to be the only one who knows what’s going on.

“I only met Cain earlier today, but he’s been helping me out the last few weeks.” My dad pauses. So I was right. Cain
does
work for my father. He clears his throat. “The winner of the overall fights tonight gets to marry my daughter, Elizabeth.”

Ed actually has to hold me back, my legs kicking pointlessly. I am ready to climb on that stage and punch my own father in the mouth.

No way is this happening.

No way.

CHAPTER FOUR

CAIN

As if I didn’t have a big enough incentive to win this fight already.

I mean, I’m not a marrying type of guy.

But a few rousing fucks in the sack, two months of arguing after we finally get to know each other, and then I can be off the hook. Catholics get divorced all the time nowadays, right?

I take immense pleasure in watching Elizabeth’s reaction to this news; I know her anger shouldn’t be adorable but it kind of is. That buffoon of a bodyguard has to physically restrain her. I am a little surprised that Tony waited to tell her. But I guess that’s just the name of the game. He probably thought she’d be less inclined to make a scene if he made the announcement in a public place. Obviously, he was wrong about that.

I step out of the ring and prepare for my next bout.

My other two opponents crumple as easily as the first. Then I see that fucking asshole Vinny and a guy about my age standing next to him who looks how Vinny must have looked thirty years ago. He must be Vinny’s son.

And the kid came to play. He has that look in his eyes.

But I’m fighting for Elizabeth, and there’s nobody that’s gonna stop me.

Vinny’s kid doesn’t go down without a fight. He actually has me on the ropes at one point but I manage to duck and swing and he’s down.

One more round of this, and I’ve won Elizabeth.

Yeah, it’s a little archaic that a woman is held up as a prize trophy, but what the hell do I care? I get to taste her sweet fucking curves and that’s the best incentive I can think of.

No pressure, though.

The final bout is the most difficult, but I’m here to win.

One down.

Two down.

Three down.

TKO.

I catch Elizabeth’s brown eyes in the crowd. She looks pissed.

I like my women fiery. I can handle her. No problem.

CHAPTER FIVE

ELIZABETH

The ride home is excruciating. Not for me so much, but for everyone in a three-mile radius of this black Cadillac with the illegal window tints. I’m screeching. “How could you do this to me?”

My father waves my anger away. “You said you were fine with it. Don’t be so damn dramatic, Lizzy.”

I pull at my thick, black hair. “
When?
When did I agree for you to marry me off?”

He’s still texting. I snatch his phone out of his gnarled, wrinkled hands with a violence I didn’t know I was capable of producing. “Hey!” he says as I shut it off.

“
Look at me
. When on earth did I say I was okay with being sold off to the most muscular bidder?”

My dad sighs as I put his phone beneath my ass. He’s not getting it back until I have some answers. “Back at the restaurant, Lizzy. Earlier tonight. Come on. You were all for this!”

I go back in my head to what was said exactly. “I thought you were finally going to let me go to
college
, Dad.”