Page 76 of Bound in Promise
“What the hell?”
Patrick.
Shit, I stole a Diet Coke.
Lifting my head, I see sheer panic on the Uber driver’s face as Dante carries me across the parking lot without even stopping.
“Can you please pay for this soda?” I ask him, playing things off as if this is a common occurrence. Making a scene will only make him a target for my husband’s anger. And Uber definitely doesn’t pay its drivers well enough to cover facing down former hitmen. “I wasn’t able to.”
Dumbly, Patrick plucks the bottle from my grasp and continues to gawk at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I have.
Apparently, I’ve gotten used to the craziness that is life in Dante’s world.
“Let me get rid of him,” I tell my driver. “And we can get going.”
At those words, Dante halts and turns, coming face to face with poor Patrick. He looms over the scrawny driver. “Ride’s over.”
“Um…”
“The ride. Is. Over,” he repeats, venom dripping from his lips. “Cancel the trip and pay the man, Victoria. Don’t forget to tip.”
“We haven’t gotten to my destination,” I argue, squirming again to try and free myself. “Put me down!”
“Either you pay him or I shoot him,” my husband states, his voice disconcertingly level. “I’m good either way.”
For fuck’s sake.
I have no doubt in my mind that Dante means every word. The man doesn’t bluff. And he knows I won’t let anything happen to some innocent guy whose only sin was helping me when I needed a lift home. Not if I can help it.
“Once this neanderthal puts me down, Patrick, I’ll pay for the ride. And I promise, you’re getting a huge tip and a five-star review.”
Dante seems satisfied with that answer because he spins back around and resumes walking.
Great.
Next thing I know, I’m bouncing in the backseat of a black Audi. It looks to be the same one Enzo drove away from the shootout at Angelo’s hell house.
Scowling, I pluck my cell out of my back pocket and open the Uber app. The faster I pay Patrick, the better. He needs to leave for his own safety.
Dante and his friend did just murder dozens of men at a crime boss’s house.
A slap to my ass makes me squeal in surprise as I scramble to the other side of the bench seat and spin around. Dante followed me into the car and is staring me down, a murderous glare on his face.
Shit.
“How dare you carry me around like I’m some unruly child in a store,” I hiss, matching his scowl with my own. “No one asked you to come after me. Hence the lack of a note to go with my escape out the window.”
“I seem to be having problems with you and those things,” Dante snarls. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to bolt the next one shut.”
I sigh.
The two of us can spend all night going at each other in the back of this luxury sedan, or we can compromise.
Before I can spell out a peace offering, however, Dante grips my forearm and yanks me closer, forcing me to straddle his lap.
“How many fucking times, princess?” he growls, staring up into my eyes and gripping my ass hard enough that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow. “How many times do I need to tell you to do something before you’ll listen?”
