Page 52 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abigail felt her insides twist. She did her best to ignore it, and all the other concerning things she’d started to piece together, and tried to offer him a reassuring smile. “Why would there be?”

He was already frowning. “What happened to your hand?” Even as he asked, he reached over and pulled her throbbing hand into his own. His thumb barely brushed along the still red and already swollen portion on the outer side, just beneath her knuckles, where Rush had managed to clamp his teeth together. The skin wasn’t broken, but onlyjust.

She winced despite herself. “If there’s a technique for gagging people without letting them bite you, I haven’t learned it.” She nearly said ‘yet.’What the hell?This was not something she planned on doing long-term. She didn’t even plan on being around long-term.

But even as she had the thought, another part of her leaned in to the warmth and strength of Ryoma at her back. A tingle danced through her, warm and electrifying, at every point of contact between them. The way his calloused fingers held her hand mostly at the wrist, curled around the base of her thumb and carefully avoiding the obviously sensitive area of skin was almost hypnotizing in its tenderness. Even the vibration of his growl—a clear, audible expression of his displeasure—sent a thrill through her.

Abigail hadn’t properly processed the actual meaning of Ryoma’s angry growl before a different sound, further behind her, drew her attention.

She wasn’t overly familiar with Mikey De Salvo, but the sigh was definitely his. “I suppose youdidtake a bullet for my wife recently.” He said the words as if it were a begrudging acknowledgment. “Fine. You can have the part that offended your lover, but leave him alive.”

Abigail blinked, confusion flooding her.What?Had he said something about a bullet?

“Appreciated,” Ryoma said. He leaned closer, pressed his lips to her temple, then stepped fully away and up to Rush. In a swift movement he’d ripped the gag off and away from Rush’s face entirely.

Abigail had a split-second of irritation as she watched the gag fly to the side and crumble on the concrete floor. Then Ryoma reached out, took hold of Rush by the jaw, and hauled him up until the gangster’s feet were barely on the floor. Ryoma’s hand remained firmly on Rush’s jaw, squeezing so hard the whites of his knuckles became visible as Rush’s skin pillowed inward.

Rush whimpered, a nonsensical sound slipping from him as he attempted to squirm and wiggle away. But he had no leverage and little strength with which to fight back.

Mikey moved around them and stepped on the chain, restricting Rush’s already weakened arms.

Abigail stared, the ache in her hand fading under the hard beating in her chest, unable to find words.

Rush kept struggling, clear sounds of pain and distress mixing with the clacking of the chain. Tears leaked from his eyes. Then, finally, a terribly disquieting snapping, cracking sound filled the air, nearly overpowered by an almost immediate but garbled shriek of pain, and Ryoma’s fingers closed in. As if there was no more resistance beneath them. Blood trickled from Rush’s lips, then burst free when Rush coughed roughly, the liquid sluicing over Ryoma’sforearm.

Ryoma released Rush, letting the gangster fall back to the ground, and lowered his hand as if it weren’t dripping blood. “You really are a dumbfuck,John.”

Mikey stepped away from the defeated, sobbing Ink Blot. “Now you have to wash up before you leave.” He tipped his head toward the door. “Can’t grab food looking like that.”

Abigail still didn’t feel as though she’d caught her breath, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow or stay put. Her confused, unfocused gaze roved over the scene and she found herself staring at something that should have been nauseating. Repulsive, even. Instead, the sight of first one, then two more, teeth dotting the blood pool just in front of her made her chest ache. Mikey’s instruction to Ryoma whispered through her mind, when he’d granted Ryoma permission essentially to get revenge for the arguably insignificant wound done toher.

She swallowed hard, her head spinning with all the implications.

“I understand you have a list for me,” Mikey said. He was suddenly standing barely arm’s reach from her, hands tucked into his pockets.

Abigail blinked, refocusing, and realized Ryoma had disappeared. That answered that, then. She nodded slowly and extracted her phone. It was easy enough to open the note app and hand the device over. “Did he explain—”

“He did.” Mikey scowled at the screen but didn’t take the phone. After a moment, he nodded and lifted his gaze. “Delete that before you reconnect to the network.”

“Sure,” she said. The instruction was a little dissatisfying, but ultimately, it was just a list of initialed tally marks, anyway. She tapped the prompts to delete it so she didn’t forget.

“You understand now what you’re dealing with. What you’ve gotten yourself into.” He didn’t phrase either statement like a question, so Abigail waited for him to continue. “My family is fond of Ryoma,” Mikey said, speaking in a low, firm voice. “Ryoma, apparently, is fond of you. That’s the real reason you’re still breathing, Abigail Fitzgerald. So while I appreciate what you can bring to the table here, what youneedto be doing is determining where you stand.” He jabbed a thumb in Rush’s direction without turning his head. “Ryoma didn’t do that for the family, and certainly not for himself.”

Her stare shifted back toward the prone, bleeding figure of the man they knew only as Rush. Rush had tilted partly onto his side and spit up more blood, and teeth. His body seemed to be shaking. He was emitting a strange kind of moaning sound that should have haunted her, but she could barely hear it over the reverberating power of Mikey’s words.

Ryoma had shattered that man’s jaw with a single hand. For her.

Ryoma had stained his skin with blood. For her.

Abigail latched onto her bitten hand, grabbing tight until the pain returned, spiking through her. It was a dismal echo of the original sting. At worst, she’d have a bruise come morning. Ryoma’s reaction had been overkill, but … she didn’t feel like she was mad about it.

That, more than anything, told her she needed to take Mikey’s words seriously.

“You ready to go, baby girl?” Ryoma asked as he rejoined them, the door left open behind him.

Abigail swung her focus to him, realizing only then that Mikey had shifted away from her as well. She dropped her gaze down his form, noting that his shirt was still stained but all signs of blood had been washed from his skin. Except, of course, for the permanently red peonies painted onto his arms. She felt her lips lift into a faint smile without direction. “Yeah. But you need a new shirt.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Mikey said, turning fully away from them. “Miguel will drive you back to the office, you’ll get what supplies you need and regroup from there.”

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