Page 20 of Matched into the Mob

Ranger paused, one eye closed as the rain battered his body. “The house is more secure than the car. And once the storm passes, my brothers and other, ummm, people from our organization can get here and protect us.”

It was odd thinking the devastation caused by the rain was preventing Dane from finding me. But I noted what he didn’t say. Being in the house might be safer, but it wouldn’t stop Dane if he was intent on capturing, torturing, and finally killing me.

I was shivering again because of the open door, and despite the amount of sugar I’d eaten, I was hungry. Putting the blanket over my head which was soaked in seconds, I reluctantly got out. Ranger punched in a code to open the front door and told me he’d be back.

“What? You’re leaving me here alone?” One minute I didn’t want to be with him and the next I expected him to be attached to my hip. “You lied saying you’d keep me safe.”

The cold along with the torrential rain and my precarious circumstances combined and I erupted, my screech directed at the man who’d brought me here. Angry at the world, Dane, Ranger, and my own lousy choices, I didn’t see a future where I wasn’t a mafia guy’s pawn.

Ranger took my hand, the one he hadn’t bitten. “I’m putting the car in the garage. I promise. I’m not leaving you. I’ll come in the back way.” For a second, I was lost in his lopsided grin.

“Okay.” He wouldn’t have heard me above the noise.

I stood in the doorway and kicked off my waterlogged shoes, suddenly bereft at him leaving. Leaving the door open a crack, I stuck my nose out while he reversed the car and drove around the side of the house. I locked the door and raced to a side window, following the car’s progress, fearful he was taking off.

From there I pressed my face to the glass at the back of the house. The car and him with it disappeared into a garage, and the metal door slammed, leaving me alone.

Breathe in, breathe out. And again. Keep breathing.

Ranger was my captor. Was I developing Stockholm syndrome already? Surely a bond with a kidnapper didn’t happen after a few hours. I couldn’t allow myself to trust him. If not for this lousy weather, I could have escaped.

With my hands clenched at my side, I surveyed the main room, with the majestic high ceiling. The logs that formed the walls and roof were a warm shade of honey. Three sofas and two armchairs were situated around the room, and rugs in shades of dark red were scattered over the floor, adding more warmth. Photos lined the mantlepiece, and though there was no fire burning, the house was warm. The heat was definitely on.

The front and side windows gave what should have been stunning views of the river, but I turned away from the debris being tossed around in the water and down the slope.

A door opened, and my heart flipped. He was here. Or someone was. I sidled up to the fireplace and picked up a hunk of wood. It wouldn’t save my life if Dane or his henchmen had found me, but I might get some satisfaction by tossing it at their heads before they grabbed me.

“Matt?” That velvety voice entwined around my heart.

“Yeah.”

Ranger squelched into the house. “The heat is on, so the house should warm up soon.”

“How’d you do that?”

“The heat? An app while we were driving.”

He was standing in a puddle, hair stuck to his scalp, water dripping off his chin. One advantage of being wet was his jeans, clinging to his crotch. Checking out a mafia guy’s goods hadn’t been on my bingo card but being threatened with torture and death or torture and dismemberment hadn’t been either.

“You’re wet.” That line was familiar, but my confused memory couldn’t place it.

Ranger’s face crumpled, and I thought he was going to cry, but his mouth creased into a wide smile. “You think?” He yanked off his hoodie, revealing an equally soggy shirt, and I inspected his hard nipples poking through the wet fabric. Nice. Next, he whipped off the shirt, and I couldn’t look away. The dips and planes on his chest were designed to be stroked and the nipples tweaked.

Despite my fucked-up situation, slick streamed from my hole. Thank gods only I could detect the pungent aroma. But Ranger sniffed and smirked. What the fuckity fuck? No way could he smell my slick. What about my smelly socks? Maybe that was what he was reacting to.

“Come upstairs. You can shower, and I’ll get you dry clothes.” He glanced at his sodden jeans and held up a finger. “One minute.” He disappeared behind a door, and when he returned, the jeans were gone and he’d wrapped a fluffy white towel around his hips.

Why’d he do that? He was taunting me with his perfectly sculpted body.

“My dad would kill me if I trailed water upstairs.”

His dad, Rudy. Right. I’d forgotten about him. He’d seemed none too pleased when Ranger and I met.

We walked up the stairs, me dripping water, but I didn’t offer to disrobe. Ranger led me into a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. He pulled out clothes from the closet, saying I was similar in size to his dad.

“Towels and toiletries are in the bathroom. I’ll shower and rustle up some food, so come down when you’re ready.”

He closed the door, and I stood unmoving in the middle of the room. I longed for a shower and dry clothes, but what I craved was for my simple life before I’d gone undercover.

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