Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One (13 page)

But… why
wouldn’t
Nico risk her life? She was nothing but a hostage to him. And on the off chance that she was wrong, that their time together had meant something to him, there was no way her father’s men could know that. How could they be sure Nico wouldn’t hurt her?

The questions ran together in her mind like paint bleeding across canvas. She pushed them away. She couldn’t deal right now. She was both amped and exhausted, and her mind was running in circles.

She spotted a half open door across the room and discovered a well-appointed bathroom. She took a clean hand towel off a stack of them and washed her face, trying not to think about the wet slap of blood that had hit her temple when the man holding her was shot in the head. When she was done, she felt a little bit better, and she spent some time fishing around in Nico’s medicine cabinet. She didn’t know what she was looking for—any hope of fighting her way out of her captivity had ended when she’d been witness to the overwhelming show of force against her father’s men. It’s not like she was going to fight her way out with a men’s razor. Even if Nico had a fancy straight-edged one, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he did, she had no doubt that she’d be disarmed in under five seconds.

She would have to be smarter than that.

And there wasn’t anything unusual there anyway. Aspirin (she took two), shaving cream, a brush, cologne. She reached for the blue bottle and pulled off the cap, then held it under her nose. Her eyes closed involuntarily as the scent of him enveloped her.

Nico.

She returned the cologne to the shelf and was closing the medicine cabinet when a voice spoke from behind her.

“Can I help you with something?”

She looked in the mirror and saw Nico standing in the open doorway.

She met his eyes in the reflection. “I think you’ve done enough.”

Silence lengthened between them. He held out a bag. “Here are your things. Let’s go.”

She turned to face him and took the bag from his hands. “Go where?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

She followed him into the office. He’d said “we”. Did that mean he was going with her? The idea should have been repugnant after what he’d done in the basement. Instead, relief swept through her, although she couldn’t have said why.

He pulled a duffel bag out of a large cabinet and walked to the closet. He packed some clothes and moved to the bathroom. She heard him rattling around in the medicine cabinet while she clutched the bag to her chest. Less than five minutes later, he put his hand on the door knob.

“Do I need to use a gun to get you to the car?” His expression softened. Or maybe he was just tired. “Because I’d rather not.”

She wanted to fire off some kind of smart-ass reply, but the words stuck in her throat. She shook her head.

“Good.” He opened the door. “Let’s go.”

She followed him down the stairs and onto the second floor. People were scurrying back and forth, running into the hall from a large space at the front of the house, hurrying in and out of the offices on either side of the hallway. There was a smear of blood on one of the walls, and Angel wondered if it belonged to one of Nico’s men or one of the men who worked for her father. What had happened to the men killed in the basement? There was no ambulance, no police. Just the hum of people in crisis mode, doing what people do when something unexpected has happened.

They started down the hall, past the computer lab she’d seen before. Several people were hunched over the monitors, typing and comparing notes, muttering and arguing.

“You’re freaking out over nothing,” one woman said. “They weren’t here for our data.”

“Run the check anyway,” an older man said.

When they got to the end of the hall, Angel saw that for once, the double doors were open. Luca hadn’t been kidding; it was a gym. And not a little one either.

A boxing ring and several bags hung from the ceiling, plus enough equipment to fill a weight room in any modern fitness club. Treadmills lined one wall, and white karate jackets with black belts hung in a row on a metal rack.

Nico held the door open for her. She hesitated, then stepped outside. Her father’s men were gone. Who knew if he’d send more. Nico had proven that he would keep her alive, at least.

It was something.

This time a car, black and low to the ground, lurked outside. It reminded her of Nico, all sleek darkness and mystery.

He held the door open, and she climbed inside. He took her bag and tucked it into the small space behind the front seats. Then he leaned over her, his hands working near her hip. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but his nearness made it impossible to speak. Her nerves were already raw, and it was all she could to keep breathing with him so close to her.

He pulled her seat belt across her lap, his hands brushing her stomach as he slid the buckle into place. His touch was like a fuse, the heat racing to every secret corner of her body.

“All set.” His face was inches from hers, his mouth close enough to kiss.

He stood and closed the door, and she sank back into the plush leather seat and tried to catch her breath.

A moment later he slid behind the wheel. The car started with a low growl, and they pulled out of the alley. Brooklyn was deserted this time of night, the street lights casting yellow circles on the pavement.

“Now can you tell me where we’re going?” she asked softly, more for something to say than because she expected him to answer.

“Someplace no one will find us,” he said without looking at her.

She should have been scared. She wasn’t.

22

She thought he might be taking her home, but they continued past Boston, following signs pointing to Manchester and Portland. By the time the sun started to rise, they’d veered off the highway in favor of the coast. The early morning light cast a blanket of diamonds over the Atlantic, and gulls swept low over the sea, diving for fish. They stopped once for gas, coffee, and restrooms. Nico stayed close, but the truth is, she was in no condition to run. Not now. She was still reeling from the night’s events, still shaking off the memory of the blood on her face from the man who worked for her father. And then there was the failed rescue.

Do you think I care what happens to this bitch?

She stuffed the memory down. The man had been trying to make it out of Nico’s alive. He’d been bluffing, trying to force Nico’s hand so he could return Angel to her father. She’d almost gotten out, and she was still recovering from the close call, the sharp burst of hope that the nightmare was over before the sting of disappointment when she’d been escorted to Nico’s office.

They continued into Maine and up the coast, past Freeport and Bath, Rockland and Camden. She thought they might just keep going to Nova Scotia. She looked over at Nico, his powerful arms on the wheel of the car, dark hair tousled from the breeze coming in the open window, and for one traitorous minute she felt exhilarated at the thought of leaving it all behind. Of hiding out and starting over with Nico.

Finally, Nico pulled off the main road and followed back streets to a town called Bass Harbor. When they got there, Angel saw that it wasn’t so much a town as a little fishing village with a harbor full of boats. Nico parked in a tiny lot and turned off the car. Then he got out, removed their bags from the back, and came around to open her door.

He handed her a bundle of leather, and she saw that it was the same jacket Luca had given her before she met Nico at the Botanical Garden.

“Put this on,” he said.

She slipped her arms into the sleeves, trying to ignore the sensual rush of pleasure as his musky scent enveloped her.

“Let’s go.”

She followed him toward the water. He didn’t seem at all concerned that she might run. She thought of David and her old bitterness returned. Of course, Nico didn’t think she’d run. He’d said it wouldn’t be productive to hurt David, but he had to know she wouldn’t bank on it. Wouldn’t take even the smallest risk with David’s life. All of which forced her to travel more as Nico’s companion than his prisoner.

A lie that would be all too easy to believe if she wasn’t careful.

Several people were boarding a ferry in the harbor, but before they reached it, Nico turned left and walked parallel to the water. They continued for about a half a mile until they came to a small dock nestled on the shoreline. He took her arm and guided her down the wooden planks to a boat tied at the end. They were almost there when an older man emerged from the cabin.

“Hello, there.” His face was like the craggy shoreline that surrounded them, etched as if the wind and sea itself had worn away at it. Blue eyes sparkled from under a stained baseball cap, and when he smiled, Angel saw that he was missing a tooth.

Definitely not one of Nico’s regular men. They were really off reservation now.

“Ed,” Nico said, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem, Mr. Vitale. You know that.” His eyes skittered to Angel’s face. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she said.

Nico stepped on board without introducing them, then reached for her hand to help her into the boat. It rocked with the motion of the water, and she stumbled a little before catching her balance.

Nico pointed to a bench at the back of the boat. “You can sit if you’d like.”

She did, and Nico turned his attention to Ed.

“How’s the weather?” he asked.

“Same as always this time of year.” Ed turned a key and the boat’s engine roared to life. He shouted over his shoulder at Nico. “Rough. Cold.”

Nico nodded.

“Mind untying us?” Ed said.

Nico untied the rope and pushed off the dock. The boat moved forward, and Angel grabbed onto the bench as they headed out of the harbor. When they cleared the last ring of buoys, Ed shifted and the boat surged ahead, the wind whipping Angel’s hair back as they sped toward open water.

She turned around, watching the harbor recede behind them, the final falling away of her old life. She faced forward, trying not to panic. Her gaze settled on Nico, as steady on his feet next to Ed as he was everyplace else. How had she come to a place where Nico Vitale was the most familiar thing to her? Where his presence somehow brought her comfort even as she remained his prisoner?

They left the mainland behind, but instead of the open water she’d expected, the glimmer of the Atlantic was broken up by countless islands. Some of them were large enough that they almost looked like part of the mainland. Others were emerald jewels nestled in the fabric of the sea. They passed the ones closest to the harbor and continued out into the ocean, the sky gray and cold above them.

She settled into the rocking of the boat. By the time Ed downshifted, she had been lulled into a kind of trance by the sting of the wind on her face, the bouncing of the bow against the waves.

She walked carefully toward Nico as the boat slowed even further. They were approaching a small island rimmed with rocky shoreline. There was no harbor here. No restaurants or markets or tourists. In fact, the place looked deserted, and she marveled again at Nico’s ability to find—or create—so much isolation.

Ed steered the boat toward a rickety looking dock on a small beach.

“Had Martha stock the fridge and cupboards for you,” he said to Nico. “There’s a storm coming in, so we won’t be able to get back out here for at least a couple days.”

“I understand,” Nico said.

Ed cut the engine and they coasted the rest of the way to the dock.

Nico jumped out of the boat and tied on, then held out his hand for Angel. She waited while Ed and Nico exchanged a few more words. Then Nico was throwing the ropes back into the boat, and Ed was heading away from the island. The boat’s motor was just a hum in the distance when Nico finally turned to her.

“Ready?”

She nodded, which was stupid. She hadn’t been ready for anything that had happened in the past week and a half.

He lifted both their bags off the dock and started walking.

They made their way up the dock and onto the sandy beach, then continued into a dense copse of trees. There was no traffic, no planes overhead, no construction equipment or people talking. It was like being at the end of the world.

The wind blew sharp and cold, and Angel pulled Nico’s jacket tightly around her as they moved through the woods. The sun was nowhere to be found, the little light that managed to make it through the trees casting the forest into a kind of twilight even though it couldn’t be much past noon.

Finally they emerged into a clearing with a dirt road leading up a small hill.

“Are you all right?” Nico asked her.

She nodded.

“We’re almost there.”

She followed him up the dirt road. When they got to the top of the hill, she spotted a house in the clearing below them. She tried to take advantage of the view by scanning the surrounding area, wanting to to get a feel for how many other houses were on the island. But all she could see were trees, and the ocean unfurling like cold steel on every side.

She followed Nico toward the house. It was bigger than it had looked from a distance, with a peaked roof and walls of glass that opened to decks and porches on every side.

Nico led her up a walkway to the front door and pulled a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. She heard the electronic beep of buttons being pressed from inside the foyer. A soft chirp emitted from the control panel, and he held the door open wider.

“Come in.”

She stepped into a vaulted foyer with polished wood floors and stone walls on either side. Nico shut the door, picked up their bags, and headed farther into the house.

At first it seemed small, but then they cleared the foyer, and it was like emerging from a cave onto a cliff. The room was huge, with a wall of glass that looked out over a wild beach enclosed with rock. The water seemed close enough to touch, the roar of the waves audible even with the doors closed. It was dizzying, all that sea and sky, and she reached down to touch an overstuffed chair for balance.