Page 57 of Assassin's Obsession

CANDI

Angelo goes still above me, the rage he just banked back to burning in his eyes like the infernos of hell.

Only now, I know it's not directed at me.

"That's what he was doing?" he asks in a deadly quiet tone.

"Uh, yeah." He couldn't tell? "Why did you come tearing across the club to rescue me if you didn't know he was doing that?"

"He was touching you. They're not allowed to touch."

They're not allowed to touch. They who? The punters. Who else could it be?

That should freak me out, right? Why don't those words freak me out?

Another question: why aren't I more scared?

Do I really believe a man who has beenstalkingme fora yearand who has cut off men's hands for touching me won't ever turn that level of crazy on me?

The truth is this whole night, I should have been a lot more afraid than I have been. Yes, I had a few bad moments when Freddy was chasing me in the alley, but mostly? I've been frustrated and angry.

Angelo's guys kidnapped me. That, at the very least, should have terrified me. They taped me up, completely taking away my freedom.

It should have triggered memories I've spent every day since coming to live with Cookie and mom trying to forget. But it didn't. It just made me mad.

Once I got my gag off, I yelled at them like they were inept busboys spilling drinks on my stage.

Then he was there and instead of reacting in any kind of way that made sense, my ladybits, which apparently didnotget the memo about being kidnapped, started dancing to a club techno beat.

He took me in his arms and the most ridiculous sense of peace washed over me. Go me for hiding it from him, but seriously? Even now, I'm lying here on the sofa, letting him cut my clothes off like a little lamb happy to be sheered for spring.

Okay, I really need to stop watching documentaries about rural America.

A little lamb? Really?

I can't even work up a real sense of dread as he slices through the fabric of my hoodie and the umpteen layers of duct tape Derian and Mario had to use to immobilize me.

I'm a little proud of that. Also? I don't mind how relieved they were when Angelo showed up.

That'll teach them to kidnap a former foster kid. We're tough.

But something's gone wonky with the instincts for survival honed in the foster care system. I don't feel threatened by Angelo. Him calling this placeourhome just feels too ridiculous to take seriously.

Whatever his plans are for tonight – and it's looking like some kind of weird role play where we actually have a relationship – come tomorrow, I'll be back in the small apartment I share with mom and Cookie.

One good thing will come from this unbelievable night. I'll get Angelo Caruso out of my system. Being kidnapped on his behalf is bound to curtail my fascination with him. Right?

If I'm lucky (and he is too), I'll finally punch my V card too. Yes, I am seriously considering having sex with the unhinged mafioso.

Not that I'm going to make it easy on him. Whatever weird fantasy he's got playing in his head, having his guys kidnap me is not okay. Even if they did save me from becoming collateral damage to my sperm donor's mafia business.

"This is so not okay," I say out loud both for his benefit and mine. "Listen Angelo, you can't go around kidnapping women."

"I am not attached to women. I am attached to you." He finishes the last cut on my hoodie with a flourish and pulls the now tattered garment from my body.

I push him away and surprisingly, he goes. Not far, but he sits on the sofa beside me instead of hovering over me.

Scooting into a sitting position, I roll my eyes with well-honed sarcasm. "Lucky me."

---