A lot.
A lot, as in once a month? Or a lot, as in once a day?
The gun sits heavy in my hands like I remember from my childhood. It was rare for my father to allow me to take a weapon in on a job, but there were a few times it was necessary and he gave me a crash course on how to hold, aim and shoot a gun. Admittedly, it’s a little different as a twenty-five-year-old than it was at twelve, but it’s kind of like riding a bike.
I flick my gaze to the door behind him and let out a stuttered breath. He’s standing between me and the only exit to this godforsaken apartment. I tried every window, looked everywhere for another door, and there was nothing. One way in and one way out. And by the time I realized that I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, the telltale sign, I was out of time.
So, I grabbed one of the guns my fingers brushed over while I was snooping.
If I want to get out of here, I have to shoot him. I have to pull the trigger, even if it’s just to disable him long enough for me to make a run for it. I have no idea where I’m going to go, especially when he has Ace in his pocket and Everett knows that he’s been following me. They’ll find me. It won’t be like when I ran from my family. Tommy has too much at his disposal, and I fear if I don’t shoot to kill, he’ll drag me right back as soon as he recovers.
I carefully remove the safety, making sure not to take my eye off the target a few feet away. I don’t need to have seen him in action to know he’s quick. He wouldn’t be able to do the job he does if he wasn’t fast.
“Fawn,” he warns. He’s not afraid, that much I’m sure of, but there’s something there. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Perhaps when you work for the Mafia, you expect at some point you might die. That the grim reaper will come for you when you least expect it to make you repent for your sins.
I take a deep breath, stilling my shaking body and aim at his chest. Even as I do, my own constricts painfully. It’s not so much that ending another person’s life worries me. It’s the thought of ending Tommy’s. Someone I felt in the shadows for months but never realized was following me. Before I can overthink the decision, I squeeze the trigger and a loud bang bounces off the walls.
The gun jumps in my hands, ricocheting up my arms and causing me to drop it immediately and regret washes over me.
What have I done?
My eyes lock with Tommy’s a few feet away. His face is unchanged, unaffected despite the blood that slowly seeps from the wound in his shoulder. Not an ounce of pain is evident in his dark features, nor is there any anger. I just shot him. He should be angry. He should be charging toward me to kill me. He should be doing something.
“Did that make you feel better?” he rumbles.
“I-I-I’m so sorry.” The words tumble from between my lips, my legs shaking beneath me, threatening to give out. I’ve never shot someone before, let alone someone I’ve come to…care for. The gravity of my own actions crashes into me, and I can’t keep myself upright. I tumble to my knees and hiss out in pain when they slam into the cold concrete floor. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to end my life long before my father can find me, and maybe that’s a good thing.
Tommy at least seems somewhat attached to me, so hopefully he’ll make it quick and painless, something I know my father wouldn’t do.
Strong arms wrap around me, but they’re not harsh. They’re comforting. “It’s okay, Clara.”
“No, it’s not!” I snap. “I shot you.”
“I’m very aware, fawn.” He chuckles. “It’s a flesh wound. It’s fine.”
I look up and meet his dark eyes, there’s no anger in them, but there is something that doesn’t belong there. Heat.
My attention flicks to the crimson-red stain his tattooed skin, but there doesn’t seem to be as much as I’ve seen in the past. I haven’t been around many dead bodies, but with the ones I have seen, there was significantly more blood.
“You need a doctor,” I breathe.
A dark smile crosses his face, and I know I’m in trouble. He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive, and he and I both know I’ll be powerless to stop him. Before I can think to move, his arms tighten around me, and he quickly flips me over his shoulder, taking long strides toward the bedroom area.
“Tommy,” I whimper.
“I suggest you shut your mouth before you get yourself in more trouble, Clara,” he grits out. It’s like a switch has been flipped. Like he made sure I was okay and now his patience has worn thin and he’s a man on a mission.
He throws me unceremoniously into the middle of the bed, the sheets surprisingly soft beneath me. But he doesn’t give me time to catch my breath before he flips me onto my stomach. He tugs my arms behind me and quickly secures them with something I can’t immediately place. Leather. But not just any leather. Leather cuffs.
Words catch in my throat, the shock from the situation making it impossible for me to breathe, let alone say anything aloud. Maybe I’ve read this whole situation wrong. Maybe he is going to kill me slowly.
He lifts me from the bed and shoves me toward the wall, not stopping until the rough bricks meet my face, scraping across the soft skin of my cheek.
“Did you think you could kill me, fawn?” He growls against the shell of my ear. His body is burning up behind me, pressed so close I’m not sure where he ends, and I begin. “Did you think you could end the life of the grim reaper himself?”
His breath whispers across my cheek, sending a shudder of desire through my body. I shouldn’t be turned on right now. I should be fucking terrified. But even though his grip on me is tight, and his body wedges me against the wall to the point of pain, all I can think about is him taking me the way I dreamed he would from the day I met him.
“No,” I whisper.
Tommy chuckles and presses his body harder into my back, his hard cock brushing against my bound hands. Holy fuck. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and that thing is going to fucking hurt. “Is my little fawn turned on?”
“No.”
“I think you are, Clara. I bet if I ripped these yoga pants off your body, you’d be soaking for me.”
I struggle to shake my head, my cheek scraping against the bricks.
“Little liar.” His body disappears from behind me, giving me space to drag in a few deep breaths. A drawer opens on the other side of the room, followed by rustling that gets closer and closer, but I make no move to turn around. I don’t want to upset him any more than I already have. “Good to know you’ll stay where I put you,” he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear.
“I’m sorry for shooting you,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.” Tears roll down my cheeks as fear beats down on me. What if he does kill me? Will the Saint James family care? Will anyone care? “Please don’t kill me.”
His deep laugh fills my every sense and his body presses into mine. His very naked body. His hand wraps around the front of my throat, his tattooed fingers tight enough to give me pause but not to stop me from breathing altogether. “Oh, little fawn, I’m not going to kill you. Do you think I’ve followed you all these months just for you to die before I can take your tight little body?”
