Page 33 of King of the Bronx

That’s when the bodyguard, who was usually on the other side of the door, blocked my path. His big arms crossed over his chest. Chills ran over my body as if someone had splashed me with ice cold water.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Enzo’s voice came from behind me. It was deep and had a darker tone than usual. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before turning around. He was standing behind me in a three-piece suit. His jaw twitched, and he leveled me with a glare. Even in the seriousness of my situation, I couldn’t deny how attracted to him I was. He was going to kill me. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold. Enzo’s eyes flickered to my purse.

“Cal,” Enzo said. A large man came from behind me and ripped the purse off my shoulder before setting it down on the nearby table.

“Hey! I won that—”

Enzo put a finger up, cutting me off mid-sentence. I’d never seen eyes so cold. In this moment, it was hard to imagine that I had been laying in his bed just this morning. I tried not to think about the man he’d killed at my brothel. He’d done it so fast, without thinking. Would he do the same to me? He walked toward the purse and dumped the entire thing upside down. All the money fell on to the table. Some of it spilled onto the floor along with my house keys and wallet. He let the purse drop out of his hand, onto the pile of money. I had the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, but I was too afraid to move. He looked up from the pile of money to me as he took a gun out of his waistband.

“Enzo, please,” I begged, my dignity flying out the window. I couldn’t leave those girls in the house alone, helpless to the Irish. Tears streamed down my face.

“On your knees,” he commanded. His face lacked even a hint of emotion. Like the time we’d spent together meant nothing. I should have known that from the beginning. Enzo was a mobster, and the mob would always come first. I was a fool.

“Enzo…I didn’t have a choice,” I cried. He ignored me and nodded at his bodyguard, who pushed me forward until I was on my knees in front of him. The barrel of the gun pressed against my skull, and I closed my eyes, hiccuping as I tried to get my tears under control. This was it. This was where my life ended up, from foster care to dying in the middle of an illegal gambling ring. I prepared myself for the inevitable.

When it doesn’t come, I opened my eyes and looked up at Enzo. He still had the gun pressed against my head, but I could see something underneath his cold demeanor. A softness beneath the evil. The man I’d gotten to know the past weeks, he was still in there.

“Boss?” Cal asked from behind me. Enzo continued to stare as if wrestling with his own mind.

“I didn’t have a choice. I had to save them,” I pleaded. His jaw twitched again. He might really pull the trigger. He dropped his arm. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Enzo walked over to Cal and whispered something to him. Then, my hands were tied behind my back. I was yanked to my feet and carried out of the underground.

I stayed quiet as Cal tossed me into the back of a black SUV. I landed on my shoulder, and pain shot down my arm. He slammed the door and sped off. I righted myself in the seat so that I was sitting up straight. I wasn’t dead. That was the good thing. The bad thing was I had no idea where I was going or what Enzo would do to me once I was there. Maybe he just didn’t want to kill me in front of so many witnesses. I thought about the money that was back at the underground, overflowing off the table. The Irish would be coming for me in a matter of days, and all my effort would be for nothing.

All the risks I took, putting my life on the line, was all for nothing because the girls were going to get taken. A single tear fell out of my eye and slid down my cheek. I wanted to stay strong, but there was no point now. I looked out the window. We were approaching a familiar area. Cal stopped outside Enzo’s apartment. Why would he have me taken here? Enzo wouldn’t kill me in his apartment…would he? Cal opened the door and grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out of the car. I stumbled onto the sidewalk, struggling to keep my balance with my hands tied behind me.

“Don’t talk to anyone,” Cal growled into my ear as he dragged me into the building. We rode the elevator up to Enzo’s floor. The lobby and hallways were completely empty so I didn’t have anyone to talk to anyway. He opened the apartment door and pushed me inside. I manage to catch myself against the wall. He made quick work of untying my wrists.

“Don’t try to run. I’ll be right on the other side of this door. The windows all have alarms on them if you’re stupid enough to think you can survive a ten-story jump.”

With those parting words, he slammed the door shut, leaving me alone in the apartment. I slid to the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees. I buried my face in my knees and allowed myself to sob.

I cried for Erica. She’d never be able to get custody of her son. All of my girls would be battered and abused because I couldn’t pull this off. I didn’t want to think about the horrors that the Irish would put them through. They’d probably sell them off on auction blocks like pigs for slaughter. I looked up at the sound of nails tapping against the floor as Bello walked into the room. He rested his head on my elbows, as if feeling my sadness. I wiped the tears from my face and walked to the couch. Bello followed and jumped up next to me. I petted the dog for a long while before my eyes drifted close.

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