Hit and Run: A Mafia Hitman Romance (6 page)

Which we will. She’ll come around. Nobody can resist me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ELIZABETH

We pull up to the restaurant an hour later, most of my anger diminished by the pure thrill of the motorcycle ride. I hand Cain the helmet.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say.

He’s staring at me. He likes staring at me; I think it might be his favorite hobby in the entire world. It’s annoying.

And sexy. Really, really sexy.

But I can’t let him know that. He already has too much of the upper hand. It’s making me crazy. I have commitment issues. And it wasn’t the fuck that scared me. It was him printing out that application for college. Him showing me the library.

That was the most intimate thing a man has ever done for me, and the sex had nothing to do with it.

So I got scared. Being stubborn is how I respond to fear. “What are you staring at?”

“Your hair,” he says.

My hand flies up to it. “Oh, God. I bet it’s destroyed.”

Cain laughs. “Actually, that’s not why I was staring at it. It looks like sex hair.” He grins, his blue eyes flashing at me. “I like that.”

I groan. “Now everyone’s going to think we had sex.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “We could, and then people wouldn’t have to be wrong.”

I roll my eyes and get back to pulling down the crooked tulle of my dress. I hold out my hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cain looks surprised but takes my hand anyway. We step into the packed-to-the-gills restaurant to thunderous applause. Cain holds my hand up in complete triumph like the referee calling a boxing match.

I paste on a smile for everyone. It’ll be easier to pretend I’m happy than to look horribly upset this whole time and have everyone ask me annoying questions. Soon, Cain and I are ripped apart by every Italian-American woman in New York wanting to kiss my cheek and wish me good luck.

The next hour is a blur of black clothes and lipstick kisses on my cheek and people wanting to pin money to my dress.

My dad finally taps on a borrowed glass of champagne and everyone goes quiet.

“I just wanted to thank you all for being here, on my beautiful Lizzy’s special day.” He lowers his eyes and it almost looks like he’s crying. Everyone murmurs amongst themselves. They can see it too. “I only wish her mother could have been here.” His voice breaks and my stomach turns over, my heart breaking for my father. “But I’m glad for the family and friends we have here instead.” He pulls up Mr. Maggiano and wraps his arm around his shoulders. “Here’s to an end to all the fighting!”

He raises his glass in a toast and everyone clinks theirs against their neighbor’s.

I finally slip away to the hostess podium, which is shielded by a half-wall. This is the only place I have a chance of getting a moment to myself. I bury my head in my hands. I don’t even know what to feel right now. I’m sad and confused and a small part of me is only thinking about how Cain looked, shirtless and sweating, in the library after he fucked the life out of me.

Okay,
more
than a small part of me is thinking about that.

I’m only human, after all.

“Hey there, wife.”

I look up at Cain and his cocky face makes me forget the feelings I was just having.

“Contemplating sex positions?”

“Contemplating ways to kill you,” I retort. It’s unnerving how he read my mind, though. Because, yeah. I
had
been wondering whether being on top or underneath Cain would be better.

He laughs. “We didn’t sign a pre-nup, and I am a very rich man.”

“Your daddy is rich, you mean.”

“Same difference,” he replies. “Want to get out of-“

His words are cut short by the
pop pop pop
of rapid gunfire.

A rainstorm of bullets shoots through the air, the front window of the restaurant shattering in a waterfall of glass.

Cade’s thick, muscular body is on top of me faster than I can even blink. We fall together behind the hostess pedestal. He grins at me even though the gunfire hasn’t stopped. “I told you I was going to be on top of you before the end of the night.”

“You are
unbelievable
!” I scream at him over the sound of the gunfight taking place ten feet from our heads. “We could die right now and you’re still only thinking about sex!”

He leans closer to me, nuzzling my ear with his lips. “Not just sex. Sex with
you
.”

I feel his cock hardening in his pants and my heart starts to beat a little faster. “Get off me,” I hiss.

Cade grins at me. “Nah, I think I’ll stay right here.”

“I said get off me-“ A bullet nearly grazes my ear and I shriek.

“You still interested in me getting off of you, sweetheart?” Cade asks me with a stern look.

“Ugh!” I reply, squeezing my eyes shut.

Maybe if I shut my eyes I’ll wake up in a minute and realize this is all some kind of nightmare.

A nightmare involving a sexy, tattooed, foul-mouthed guy.

No, not sexy.

He’s a goon. A henchman. A murderer.

A sexy murderer…

I hear more screaming and people are stampeding to get out of the restaurant.

“What are we going to do?” I ask Cain.

“If I could figure out who’s shooting, I think I could probably give you more of a plan!”

“Is this your family doing this?” I ask him.

He looks at me uncertainly. “I’m not sure.”

More bullets. More screaming. Then the gunfire stops.

The air smells like gun smoke and like…blood. It smells like blood.

My stomach drops and suddenly I’m happy for the weight of Cain’s body on top of my own. It’s somehow calming my nerves.

“Stay here,” Cain whispers to me.

For once, I take direction. I have zero intention of going anywhere right now. How could I?

I hear Cain’s footsteps trail into the main part of the restaurant. They’re slow and practiced. Then I hear people screaming again. But they’re screaming in the absence of bullets.

Someone lets out a strangled cry like a wounded animal and then I hear it.

I hear someone screaming my father’s name.

“TONY! No, no. No.”

I’m suddenly standing up with no memory of getting there. I’m walking into the restaurant.

I’m standing behind Cain.

I’m seeing my father on the ground, several women shaking his shoulders.

But there’s blood. So much blood. All over him. It’s pouring out of his chest, right where his heart should be.

His face is greying. The life is flowing out of him and onto the floor.

I’m screaming but I don’t know how I’m screaming. I don’t know how I’m doing anything, actually. I don’t know how I’m still upright. How I’m still alive.

And then I’m falling.

Then Cain is catching me and saying things to me, words that I don’t understand. He has to repeat them. He repeats them as he holds me. I see his beautiful, chiseled face and I know he’s telling me something important. But I can’t hear him. I hear nothing.

It’s not until he has me in front of him on his motorcycle, until he’s equipped me with the helmet again, until he’s speeding away from the restaurant and threading the bike through gridlock New York City traffic that I finally hear what he’s said to me.

“Elizabeth. We have to run.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

CAIN

This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not tonight. Not like this.

I hold on tight to Elizabeth, my arms wrapped around her body as I rev through the streets of New York. I’m happy that she’s short and that it’s easy to see over her head.

I drive by pure instinct alone. This is the thrill that I live for. This is how I think. Motorcycling is a meditation for me. And my lifelong training on the back of bikes is finally coming in handy.

We pull out of the city in record time, and we’re flying once again into the outskirts of New York, the houses slowly getting larger, the leaf-covered lawns getting progressively wider, the wealth increasing.

And then it falls off into real rural territory, and I can finally breathe. Not a lot, but just enough.

After what must be an hour and a half but with my adrenaline feels more like two minutes, I finally see the candle-lit window I’m looking for. I take a hard right, kicking up dust from the dirt driveway, and pull up to the white farmhouse. I cut the engine and the noise of sheep awoken from their slumber fills the perfect night air.

The moon is full and casts such strong light my shadow falls to the ground in crisp, perfect relief. I put my hand underneath Elizabeth’s underarms. I realize she’s shivering.

“Lizzy. Lizzy!”

She blinks at me. “Where are we?”

“You’re in shock,” I say to her. “I need to get you inside, but above all else, I need for you to
trust me
. Okay? Got that?”

She nods but I know she’s not hearing what I’m saying. I realize she’s not going to be able to walk. She’s shaking too much. I sweep her off her feet in her wedding dress and carry her up the groaning wooden steps. I knock three times on the door with the toe of my now-scuffed dress shoes.

I have to do that three times before I hear floorboards creaking. The door opens, and an old, wizened man with bushy white eyebrows answers the door in a threadbare robe.

“Cain?” he asks, incredulous.

“I need sanctuary,” I say to him.

He rubs his eyes and opens the door. “Come on in.”

I step inside the dated, old-fashioned living room.

Robert turns on the gas lanterns scattered around the room, and I lay Lizzy down on the red velvet sofa. She’s wearing my leather jacket, but she’s still shivering. I take off my tuxedo coat and lay it over her.

“Blankets. Tea. Hot water,” I say to Robert.

He leaves the room without a word. I turn to the empty, soot-stained fireplace and set to work building a heat source. I roll up my sleeves and throw dry wood into the brick-lined space, finding a dusty matchbox on the mantle to help things along. I hope to God that Robert has had someone out to inspect the chimney. If we all die of smoke inhalation after surviving a drive-by shooting then I guess God has a sense of humor after all.

Survive a cascade of bullets. Die by neglect of routine home maintenance.

It only takes me a few minutes and the fire is pumping out enough heat to reach Lizzy. She has her eyes wide open, and her teeth are chattering.

Robert returns and sets a tray of tea on the coffee table. “Might want to get her under some hot water. Would wake her up quicker, I think.”

I nod and sweep Lizzy up into my arms again.

“Bathroom?” I ask.

Robert points at the ceiling. “Up the stairs and to the right. The taps are reversed so the hot water is where the cold water should be and the cold water-“

I don’t wait around for him to finish. I take the rickety, carpet-covered stairs two at a time. The bathroom is tiny, but there is a claw foot bathtub. That’s all I need. Elizabeth’s teeth are still chattering. I turn the tap on and test the water. I don’t want it too hot.

I turn back to Lizzy and try to take my leather jacket off of her, but she’s got her arms tightly crossed over her chest. She’s not budging.

“You really are a stubborn one, aren’t you?” I lift her up and into the bathtub, aiming the showerhead at her face. Her makeup trails off her skin and onto her formerly perfect white dress. The cloud-like fabric gives the effect of soap bubbles filling up the tub.

As the warm water pours down her body and seeps through her dress, her teeth slowly stop chattering. After a few minutes, I leave her long enough to go get the tea from downstairs. Robert is sitting on the couch, looking into the fire.

I’m nearly to the stairs again when he speaks. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

“No,” I reply. “I know we weren’t.”

“Good,” he says.

That’s all he has for me right now.

I head back upstairs and Lizzy has that fire back in her eyes.

I hand her the tea and move the shower head so the water isn’t drowning her anymore. I hand her the teacup and she takes it.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice hoarse.

“You owe me a leather jacket,” I reply, sitting next to the tub on the floor.

“Alright,” she says, her eyes still dead and staring straight into nothing. “Can you give me a few minutes? I need to get out of this wedding dress.” The water is still hitting the shower wall.

“I’d prefer to stick around and help you get out of it,” I say with a grin.

“Still joking about sex right now. You really are unbelievable.”

“Habit,” I say. “I’ll get you clean clothes and put them outside the door, alright?”

I walk into the guest bedroom. There’s a quarter-inch-thick blanket of dust coating all of the hard surfaces of the room. I search through the dresser for size-appropriate clothing. I pull out jeans and a flannel shirt that look like they’ll fit Elizabeth well enough. I shake out the dust and re-fold them, neatly placing them on the floor.

Downstairs, Robert is stoking the fireplace, the iron clearly heavy in his arthritic hands.

“Let me do that,” I say, and the fact that he doesn’t protest tells me everything I need to know about his condition.

“She’ll be alright,” Robert says.

“How do you know that?”

“I see it in her eyes. She’s a fighter.” He sighs and folds his hands on his lap, staring at me. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Yeah, well, the timeline was sped up a little by a gunfight breaking out after my damn wedding.”

“Do you know what’s happening?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, but I’m hoping I can figure that out while I’m here.”

“Care to have me join this conversation?”

I look up and see Elizabeth walking down the stairs, her hair twisted up into a towel.

“Have a seat,” I say. “Do you want some more tea?”

“I’m fine standing,” she replies. “And no, I just want to know what in the hell is going on.”

I exhale. “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, and I’m really not sure where to start.”

“Well, let me help you out. You said you didn’t expect this
so soon
. So you should start there. When
did
you expect my father to be killed in cold blood?”