Shadow Rider
Page 45
No one had ever made her body come to life like he did. Just looking at him. Just smelling his cologne. It was humiliating. She knew she should be outraged that he was there in her apartment, but something was wrong. She could see it in his eyes. Her hand flew defensively to her throat.
“Joanna,” she whispered. “Did something happen to her?” She would never forgive herself. Never. She shouldn’t have come. She thought she’d covered her tracks, but money talked and if someone was still looking for her, they’d eventually find her—and anyone who helped her.
“She’s fine, Francesca. You need to get up and come with me now.”
She glanced beyond him to the door of her bedroom. Someone was in her front room. She couldn’t make out who, but she saw a shadowy male figure.
Shoving back her hair with one hand, she held tightly to her sleeping bag with the other. “Just tell me, Stefano.”
“You can’t stay here.”
Her heart stuttered at his expression. Grim. Implacable. His jaw tightened as though anticipating her argument—and she was going to argue.
“Well. No. This is where I live.”
Something dangerous flickered in the depths of his eyes. He suddenly looked feral. Predatory. In that moment she could almost believe he was some sort of crime lord. He wasn’t the kind of man to take no for an answer.
“Bambina, you’ve got two choices. You can walk out of here dressed, or I’m carrying you out just the way you are. You fucking decide, because I’ve had it with this hellhole.”
She swallowed hard. He wasn’t joking. She held up one hand to ward him off. “How did you get in here?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Your fucking door wasn’t even locked, Francesca.”
He was really furious to throw so many F-bombs at her. “No. It was. I locked it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not stupid, Stefano. I locked the door. How did you get in here?”
“I raised my hand to knock and the door opened on its own. There’s a piece of tape over the mechanism to prevent it from locking.”
There was the ring of truth in his voice and she felt panic rising. Her gaze skittered across the room toward her bedroom door. That door didn’t lock. Only the main apartment door locked. “Who would do that? That doesn’t make sense.” Fear made her heart pound and put a strange taste in her mouth. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll tell you after I get you out of here and to somewhere I know you’re safe. Come on, dolce cuore, get up.” His features softened.
She moistened her lips. His eyes were so beautiful they took her breath away. She would do anything to see that look on his face. Anything at all for him. With the exception of getting up and allowing him to see the shirt she wore. She couldn’t just go with him without an explanation. That wasn’t even reasonable. She found it far worse that he could see how little she had. The last thing she wanted was for him to pity her. Sheesh. This was so humiliating.
“I want you to leave. We can talk about this in the morning.” She forced decisiveness into her voice. He couldn’t really force her to go with him. No one would actually carry out such a ridiculous threat.
His entire expression changed. His extremely masculine features went from soft to stone in the space of a single heartbeat. She knew immediately she was in trouble. He reached for her, hauling her into his arms, sleeping bag and all.
“Ricco, get my coat and her things. We’ll be at the penthouse.” Stefano tossed her easily over his shoulder and stood up as if she didn’t weigh more than a sack of rice.
She caught at his shirt, upside down, staring at his backside. Clutching his jacket, she struggled against the iron band across her thighs. He ignored her and strode right out of the bedroom, past Ricco, who, when she lifted her head, smirked at her. Clearly, Ricco was another brother. They all looked alike, smug and full of arrogance.
“Put me down right this minute,” she demanded. Breathless. Her belly was over his shoulder and he felt a little like an oak tree with no give.
“Too late, Francesca. Be still.”
He stalked down the hall, and she caught glimpses of men falling into step behind him. Good God. Maybe he was part of a human trafficking ring and he was kidnapping her. What was wrong with her? She screamed. Loud.
His hand came down hard on her butt. She felt the sting right through the sleeping bag, although it didn’t really hurt, but it did shock her into silence.
“I told you I’d get you to safety and then tell you what’s going on,” he snapped, his voice grim. “Just be still. I don’t give a damn if you want to scream, but it’s rather pointless. Do you really think in this apartment building anyone is going to stick their neck into our business?”
“Joanna,” she whispered. “Did something happen to her?” She would never forgive herself. Never. She shouldn’t have come. She thought she’d covered her tracks, but money talked and if someone was still looking for her, they’d eventually find her—and anyone who helped her.
“She’s fine, Francesca. You need to get up and come with me now.”
She glanced beyond him to the door of her bedroom. Someone was in her front room. She couldn’t make out who, but she saw a shadowy male figure.
Shoving back her hair with one hand, she held tightly to her sleeping bag with the other. “Just tell me, Stefano.”
“You can’t stay here.”
Her heart stuttered at his expression. Grim. Implacable. His jaw tightened as though anticipating her argument—and she was going to argue.
“Well. No. This is where I live.”
Something dangerous flickered in the depths of his eyes. He suddenly looked feral. Predatory. In that moment she could almost believe he was some sort of crime lord. He wasn’t the kind of man to take no for an answer.
“Bambina, you’ve got two choices. You can walk out of here dressed, or I’m carrying you out just the way you are. You fucking decide, because I’ve had it with this hellhole.”
She swallowed hard. He wasn’t joking. She held up one hand to ward him off. “How did you get in here?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Your fucking door wasn’t even locked, Francesca.”
He was really furious to throw so many F-bombs at her. “No. It was. I locked it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not stupid, Stefano. I locked the door. How did you get in here?”
“I raised my hand to knock and the door opened on its own. There’s a piece of tape over the mechanism to prevent it from locking.”
There was the ring of truth in his voice and she felt panic rising. Her gaze skittered across the room toward her bedroom door. That door didn’t lock. Only the main apartment door locked. “Who would do that? That doesn’t make sense.” Fear made her heart pound and put a strange taste in her mouth. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll tell you after I get you out of here and to somewhere I know you’re safe. Come on, dolce cuore, get up.” His features softened.
She moistened her lips. His eyes were so beautiful they took her breath away. She would do anything to see that look on his face. Anything at all for him. With the exception of getting up and allowing him to see the shirt she wore. She couldn’t just go with him without an explanation. That wasn’t even reasonable. She found it far worse that he could see how little she had. The last thing she wanted was for him to pity her. Sheesh. This was so humiliating.
“I want you to leave. We can talk about this in the morning.” She forced decisiveness into her voice. He couldn’t really force her to go with him. No one would actually carry out such a ridiculous threat.
His entire expression changed. His extremely masculine features went from soft to stone in the space of a single heartbeat. She knew immediately she was in trouble. He reached for her, hauling her into his arms, sleeping bag and all.
“Ricco, get my coat and her things. We’ll be at the penthouse.” Stefano tossed her easily over his shoulder and stood up as if she didn’t weigh more than a sack of rice.
She caught at his shirt, upside down, staring at his backside. Clutching his jacket, she struggled against the iron band across her thighs. He ignored her and strode right out of the bedroom, past Ricco, who, when she lifted her head, smirked at her. Clearly, Ricco was another brother. They all looked alike, smug and full of arrogance.
“Put me down right this minute,” she demanded. Breathless. Her belly was over his shoulder and he felt a little like an oak tree with no give.
“Too late, Francesca. Be still.”
He stalked down the hall, and she caught glimpses of men falling into step behind him. Good God. Maybe he was part of a human trafficking ring and he was kidnapping her. What was wrong with her? She screamed. Loud.
His hand came down hard on her butt. She felt the sting right through the sleeping bag, although it didn’t really hurt, but it did shock her into silence.
“I told you I’d get you to safety and then tell you what’s going on,” he snapped, his voice grim. “Just be still. I don’t give a damn if you want to scream, but it’s rather pointless. Do you really think in this apartment building anyone is going to stick their neck into our business?”
