Page 29 of Mated into the Mob

Gods, what was wrong with me? I turned off the water and lay on the shower floor until goosebumps pimpled my skin. Knowing I wasn’t going back to sleep, I pulled on jeans and a hoodie, put on a backpack I used for college, and grabbed my debit card, thankful I hadn’t taken it to the club that night.

Trawling the aisles at a convenience store a few blocks from my apartment, I stocked up on cheap snacks, needing the salty, oily, overly sweet, fake flavors to wash away the taste of kidnapping. And I bought a phone and a prepaid plan. I experienced a thrill at purchasing a device that couldn’t be traced.

But as I left the store, I should have turned left toward home, but I headed right, while stuffing cheeseballs and candy in my mouth at the same time. Gross but oh so satisfying. The phone jiggled in my pocket as I strode along the almost empty streets.

I didn’t have a destination in mind. I didn’t, and yet as I sped up, jaywalking across streets usually clogged with traffic, I told myself I was going to retrieve my belongings from my locker at the club.

The streets brightened with flashing neon lights as I headed toward the entertainment district where crowds spilled onto the streets and expensive cars disgorged and picked up their passengers. But I bypassed the street, the one fronted by LaLuna Noir, and traipsed around the back. With each step, my brain implored me to turn around and walk away.

This part of your life is over.

Crinkled chips fell from my mouth onto the sidewalk, and I brushed the salty, spicy remains from my lips. What was I doing, having escaped Flint’s clutches and his basement, heading into the lion’s den?

But I reasoned I needed to get back my stuff. Yeah, my stuff. What was it? I banged a fist on my forehead trying to remember. A phone, ID, and something else. Clothes? Oh right, clothes. Damn, I had to return Flint’s clothes, but I left them at home. Shoot, I’d have to come back another night.

For now, I’d sneak around back. Maybe Bobbie or Todd would empty the trash and I could plead with them to collect my belongings from the locker. Not that I had the key, and I had no memory of where I’d left it.

There were three black cars near the back entrance. His in the middle, plus the two who’d flanked us to and from his house. I crouched behind the dumpster, telling myself I needed to rest before returning home, but why was I doing it behind a container of trash?

My old hoodie wasn’t very warm, having been washed countless times in laundromats, often late at night. I pulled out a chocolate bar and took a bite, enjoying the teeth-decaying flood of sugar. But I froze mid-chew as a door opened, the one for Flint’s private use, and I caught a whiff of his distinctive cologne.

I squinted because he always wore black, and in the dark, against the backdrop of La Luna Noir, I couldn’t make him out. But his security detail had to be there. I held my breath, waiting for footsteps, the car door to open and slam. But the footfalls continued, across the alleyway. What the fuck? Why would he be tossing garbage in the dumpster when he had people to do that for him?

My pounding heart blocked out any noise apart from the footsteps. I counted them as they came closer. One, two, three, while the chocolate melted on my tongue, the sweetness having turned bitter.

He stopped, and while I couldn’t make him out, he was so close I could hear his long, slow, deep breaths.

“What are you doing here, Tony?”

I must have imagined he said my name. No way could he have known I was hiding in the alley.

“Tony?”

Damn, wishing I could slither away like the snake etched on his skin, I heaved myself up. His shadowy form towered over me, and I held up the candy wrapper.

“I needed somewhere to toss my trash.”

He sighed. “Go home.” He turned and walked away, taking something of mine with him. Not my heart. Nope. That was firmly intact in my chest.

“I was going to return your clothes.”

His dark form paused. “Okay, but there was no need. They weren’t mine.”

Right. They belonged to some other kidnap victim. An unfamiliar emotion bubbled inside me, sliding and creeping into my veins. It was kind of like jealousy when I saw a former boyfriend with his new partner. But that wasn’t this. It couldn’t be. This was the guy who was considering killing me. And kept me in his basement.

But if it wasn’t jealousy, what was it?

16

FLINT

Iwalked out and was hit by his scent. The same scent I’d dreamed about every minute since he left.

He came for you, for us!My wolf was alert, having been lethargic since Tony walked out the door and had been pestering me to go get him.

How many days has it been?

Four. My beast was good at keeping track of time.

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