Trapped in his End Game (Series)

“Jack, we need to talk. They came after Adriana.” His chest is a barrel of rage. It’s horrifying to hear him like this. “I’ll call you on an outside line.”Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

He ends the call and makes another one. “Paulie, get your ass over here. Now.”

Then he hurls the phone across the room and it smacks on the wooden floor. I feel it like a jolt through my body.

“Vince, what’s going on?”

The chill freezes my spine when he lets me go and turns away from me, looking quite-guilty. Anger creeps into my voice. “He threatened to rape me, Vincent.”

He gives me a remorseful look. “Adriana-”

“NO! Don’t leave me here alone!”

I can see his resistance-the burning need for revenge, but I’m still shaking with what just happened and I need him beside me.

“It’ll just be for a little while.”

“This place isn’t safe,” I moan. God, I can just imagine them kicking down the door like it was nothing. They’ll swing an arm to me and suddenly I’ll hear a few pops. The bullets will slam into my chest and I’ll bleed to death on the hardwood floors. Or maybe they’ll tie me up and take turns raping me.

I clutch his shirt and sob into his chest, and he takes my hands, kissing them both.

“Adriana, I swear to Christ nothing will happen to you here. Paulie is on his way. He’ll be right outside the door.”

He just doesn’t get it.

“Fine!” I scream. “Just go!”

My screams ring through the apartment, hurting my ears. Stunned at my outburst, Vince releases me, looking paler than usual.

“Stay in the fucking apartment and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back later.”

My heart screams as he leaves the apartment, the walls shaking as he slams the door. I run towards the door and lock it, and then I look around.

What can I use to barricade the door?

I move every available chair in front of the door, trying to lean them against the door handle. I even try to move the couch, but it’s too fucking heavy. The racing thoughts, the unpleasant sensation gripping my heart doesn’t go away. Like a seizure, my breathing stops, and my heart races, and it freaks me out even more.

There has to be alcohol in Vincent’s kitchen.

I rip open the cabinets and find bottles of vodka, whiskey, tequila, anything I want. I take out the vodka and pour myself a large glass. Downing it feeds the demon inside me. The spark that was present the whole time is coaxed into a fire, and I drink until I don’t feel anything at all. I take a seat next to the window and watch over the bustle of the city. There’s so much madness in the world, so much unbridled violence, and I feel safe up here. Removed from all of it.

The whole world spins when I try to get up to reach my backpack, so I sit back down. It takes a few seconds for everything to stop moving.

Fuck. I’m wasted.

But the thoughts keep intruding, even when I drown them out with more alcohol.

BANG, BANG.

The door jumps as someone’s fist smashes into it.

“Open the fucking door, Adriana!”

A rough voice yells at me, growing louder. It’s Vincent, I know it is, but the violence scares me.

“Hold on!” I yell back.

I rise to my feet and almost fall flat on my ass as I take a step forward. I make a strange sound, like a sob and a laugh combined together, as I pick myself up. It’s so dark in his apartment, and the swimming in my head makes it worse.

The doorknob twists violently. “What the fuck did you do to the door?”

“I blocked it. Hold on.”

All of it seems funny now. Even Vincent’s rage. I pull all of the shit out of the way. How, I’ll never really know. Vince almost trips all over everything when he bursts inside. He stares at all the chairs. At me.

“You’re fucking wasted.”

I’m on the verge of a nasty retort, but something in Vince’s gaze frightens me and I shut up.

“You have an excellent collection of alcohol.”

He looks like he wants to yell, but he shakes his head. “Fuck it.”

Taking my hand, he leads me back to the chair near the glass window and he grabs the half full glass, downing it in one shot.

“I guess I would get drunk if I were you.” He stares morosely at the bottom of the glass.

“I keep hoping that all this alcohol might burn holes into my brain. Do you want to know why I’m afraid all the time?”

Vincent’s neck bends into his hands like a heron. “Because of me?”

“No, because of my dad.” The tiniest bit of nausea hits me and I remember how silky his blood felt around my knees. I grab the neck of the bottle, but Vince looks up and wrestles it out of my grip.

“That’s enough,” he says in a dangerous voice.

“Oh, it’s not nearly enough.”

He takes a swig of the bottle and keeps it near his feet, so I can’t reach.

Bastard. He has no fucking idea.

“I never told you how my dad died,” I begin, my voice trembling with rage.

Vince’s haggard face looks up at me.

The alcohol makes it easy to forget, but once you’re in the throes of misery it drags you down. “They came into my house and my dad pushed me into my room to save me. They took him by the throat and I ran out because Mom was screaming and then I think I surprised them-that they didn’t mean to do it, but they dragged a knife across his throat. They ran off after that and he bled to death. I had his blood all over my hands. My legs. I can still smell it.”

Across the table, Vince says nothing. He looks lifeless. “How old were you?”

“I was ten. And the worst part is that whoever killed him is still out there.” My breath hitches in my chest. “The cops didn’t do anything. They were awful.”

Suddenly, he’s at my side, pulling me on his lap as his hands soothe my arms, moving up and down. A swell of warmth expands in my chest and electricity shoots from his fingertips into my skin.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

I lean against his chest and a shudder runs through my body. “I hate feeling like this.”

“You’re going to have to stay here for a while, so that I can protect you.”

For a moment, I shove the past aside. “Vince, what’s going on?”

I don’t know if he’s aware of it, but his fingers lightly running up my arms make me clench down on my stomach, suppressing a shiver. His lips touch my ear.

“What’s going on is that you’re mine, and they want to hurt me. So they targeted you.”

What?

My heart thumps painfully against my chest. “Who?”

“The family associated with that man who insulted you at the card game.”

That Silvio guy.

“The man you weren’t supposed to touch.”

Vince’s tone is unapologetic. “Let’s not talk about this.”

I pull out of his arms, a stab of anger striking through my chest. Standing upright, I waver as Vince follows me.

“I was threatened, and that’s your response?”

“Things are already in motion. Believe me, they’re not getting away with this.”

Another murder? A beating? My insides swirl with all the violent images along with the alcohol still coursing through my veins. “What if I just went to the police?”

“Hey,” he snaps. “Don’t talk foolishness. We wash our own dirty laundry.”

I hate how my body responds to him, even after everything that happened. His hand wraps around my head and twists in my hair and he yanks back, hard. His head bends over me and not for the first time, my mouth is dry when I look at him. My throat constricts as that violent energy focuses on me.

His claws are out.

“You listen to me, Adriana. You never talk to the cops about any of our business, or anything that you might see around us. If you do, you better hope that we never find you.”

“F-fuck you.”

Tears slide down my face as he looks down at me, impassive. I feel betrayed by the sweet man who delivered me meals, paid for my college, and did all the considerate things that my mother never did for me.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Ade. They would, and I’d be powerless to stop them.” His face softens as he wipes tears from my eyes. “Please, I’m begging you. This is one rule you can never break.”

Maybe I’m not crazy for wanting him. He brutalizes anyone who hurts me. There’s no waiting for the police to make an investigation, just immediate action. Immediate consequences. And yes, the friction in his world occasionally affects me, but it’s better than having no one at all.

Vince kisses me like he needs me, like he can’t live another second without feeling my bare skin. I need him, too. My hands feel the sinewy, hard pectoral muscles before sweeping up to stroke his shoulders and biceps. He’s one hundred percent lean muscle, so powerful he lifts me into his arms with no great effort. He deposits me on the couch and he immediately removes my jeans, his hands sweeping up my bare thighs to grasp my panties and pulls those down, too.

He parts my legs so that they hook over his shoulders, and I’m clenching my core as I feel his hot breath steaming between my legs. A high gasp leaves my throat as a warm, wet muscle strokes my clit. His dark head is between my thighs as his mouth kisses and sucks me, making my back arch. It doesn’t take long for my breaths to come out in whimpers. He pumps his fingers inside me while his tongue does circles around my clit, occasionally closing his mouth over me.

“Vince!”

The fingers work faster, curling upwards while his tongue teases me, until I can feel the searing pressure building up inside.