A Mafia Romance

Melissa

MELISSA

For the first time since escaping my father’s men, I’m not thinking about that terrible situation. I’m too preoccupied with waking up to a caring embrace and how Chase and I almost kissed. That was so pleasant. I’m not used to that.

I’m not used to a man’s touch feeling good.

My time in Chase’s arms has affected me peculiarly. I’m at peace, but I can’t fall asleep. My spirits are up, but I can’t fully relax. My skin feels so sensitized that the soft sheet caresses me where my nightgown doesn’t cover.

And when the silk of the gown brushes against my skin, a tingle rushes through me. It leaves me craving more—more of his touch, more of his warmth, more of that tenderness.

I really wish he stayed. But I wouldn’t know what to do if he had. Feeling something besides dread or disgust for a man is so strange. That first taste of real desire made me want to lunge after it...but I’m not ready.

Is it because he rescued me? Is he my ‘type’? Is it him in particular? Or is it because he’s the first guy who’s actually done right by me?

I’m still suspicious. He might want me sexually, but men can f**k even if they hate you. Some of them are nice strictly because they want to f**k.

I saw his eyes trying to trace my body even through my coat. He rescued me and he didn’t have to. Maybe that means he cares about me outside of getting what he wants?

Maybe that’s what normal people do, and I’ve been surrounded by horrible shitheads my whole life.

Or, this could all be about s*x and money. That thought gives me a strange relief. It may have nothing to do with the idea of kindness or caring? Simplifying his motives down to my payment and his yearning is easier to wrap my head around.

Except...if it really was that simple, would he have been gallant like that and left? Maybe I turned him off somehow. That hurts to think about.

As I lie there, soft sounds come from downstairs. The door to the bedroom is right by the stairway, which bottoms out next to his living room. A soft curse. Grunts. Panting.

Quietly, I get up and tip toe across the room. I make it to the doorway and see the top of Chase’s head as he sits on the couch.

He curses softly through his teeth and pants harder. I lean forward to look—and lean back instantly, blushing. Oh.

That glimpse of him pumping that enormous, very stiff c**k in one fist proves it. He’s horny and didn’t want to push anything. He’s...doing precisely what he said.

Wow. He’s extremely honest for a thief. Or for a guy for that matter.

...Which leads me back to wishing he stayed. Oh well. It’s not like we won’t be spending time together over the next few days. There will be plenty of chances.

I’m about to return to bed when I notice something unusual. A light—a circular light, weaving back and forth against the shade covering the living room window. I blink at it for a moment, and then quickly realize it’s a beam from a flashlight.

Chase lets out a grunt of dissatisfaction; cloth rustles and he shuffles over to the window; his sweatpants are up but there is an enormous awning in the front. He pries apart two of the blinds to look between them. "The hell?" he mumbles.

A pause. I duck back into the shadows, not wanting him to know I was...watching him. Including getting a good look at the massive tool pushing out the front of his sweats. The sight has half of me wondering how it would fit inside me, while the other half is determined to try.

He suddenly curses under his breath and moves away from the window hastily. "Melissa!"

I back up by the bed before I answer. "Yes?"

"Get dressed as fast as you can and grab your stuff. We've got to go."

A rush of adrenaline spikes through me. I don't ask why—I just grab my leathers and yank them on. I check my purse for the phone and the g*n and stomp into my boots. Chase is bustling downstairs.

I scurry down to join him, grabbing the handle of my purple suitcase. “What is it?”

“You know those black sedans that passed us on the highway?”

I go cold inside. “Yes.”

“Three just pulled up outside.” He zips up his jacket and grabs the suitcase from me, tucking it under his arm. “Let’s move.”

Oh God. I forget all about asking him who the person with the flashlight was. Maybe he has a lookout? Ask later, run now.

“How the hell did they find us?” I pant as we race through the kitchen toward the back exit.

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get out of here. Can you climb?” He unlocks the back door and shoves it open, and we plunge into the icy night. Before the back door has even closed behind us, heavy fists pound on the front door.

“I’ll manage.” My stomach flips over; I’ve been shut inside and stuffed into pretty dresses with few chances for climbing or any other kind of play. But I’m not about to slow him down now.

Outside, the tiny backyard drops off quickly into a dark ravine. There is water at the bottom; it’s maybe thirty feet deep. There’s a hole in the old wooden fence; he helps me through and briefly shines his tactical light on a rope ladder.

An ordinary rope hangs next to it. He grabs that and looks at me. “Okay. Do not rush. Just get down as fast as you can. It’s slippery, so be careful.”

I nod, my heart in my throat, doubly glad for the boots and leather. I tighten my purse against my shoulder. “Okay.”

“I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,” he says, and jumps backward, rappelling expertly out of sight.

Wow. That was swift. The sound of someone kicking the front door alerts me, and I grab the rope ladder, putting my trembling foot on the first rung and scrambling awkwardly down.

It’s terrifying: a sightless climb down a slippery, muddy slope streaked with ice, while icy water drips into my hair from above. The rope ladder wobbles; my legs shake from fear as I hunt around for the next rung with my foot.

I’m scared. I’m going to fall. Or they’ll catch me on this damn ladder, unable to go any further.

“Hey, are you all right?” Chase calls up softly. “I can’t see you.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” I stammer apologetically, forcing myself down another two rungs. My foot slips, and I almost lose my footing on the next rung; I grab the ropes and freeze, panting in panic.

Suddenly, the ladder shakes slightly, and I hear a soft thump. Chase is climbing up the rope beside me. “Hey. It’s all right.”

My shivering stops, and my death grip on the ropes loosens enough for me to feel my fingertips again. “I’m sorry,”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. Come down the ladder one step at a time. I’ll grab you if you slip. I promise.” His voice is so kind, even with the solid urgency behind it.

I come close to slipping once more. He hears my gasp and firmly grabs the back of my leather jacket. Just his touch is enough to steady me some, and I pull myself together and continue.

At last, my feet hit the muddy bed of a temporary stream. Icy water tugs against my ankles; I bless the boots once more for keeping my feet dry, but my toes are getting cold fast. My eyes have adjusted; in the thin light trickling through the pine boughs, Chase turns around and grabs the ladder and the rope.

“Give me a second.” He gives them both a hard yank and twist, and then pulls them sideways with a grunt of effort. I hear two pings as their mountings pop free, and they slither down the slope. He throws the bundle under a tree, and then grabs my hand in one and my suitcase in the other.

“Okay,” he uttered. “Let’s go. Follow me, and try not to slip.”

We hasten through the four-inch torrent. Mud sucks at the bottoms of my boots; rocks and branches trip me, but not enough to cause more than a stumble. I struggle, drawing strength from the grip of his hand.

Someone is yelling behind us; they probably discovered the back door was unlocked. Shouts and swearing echo from the top of the drop-off. I gasp, lungs burning, and run even faster. Please don’t let them see us.

“There’s a culvert up ahead,” he urges, and we plunge into it a moment later, just as Benny’s voice reaches our ears.

“What do you mean you lost them?” he roars, and then we’re running into the dark with only Chase’s petite flashlight to light our way.