Page 310 of Bad for Me

NEVER EVER

A.N. STAUBER

PROLOGUE

Alessio

Blood dripsfrom the blade in my hand—painted with the sins of a soldier who betrayed me. He sits against the brick wall of the basement, head slumped over. Dario’s breaths are shallow, but he's still alive. I haven’t killed him . . .yet. When and how I bring his death is up to him.

“Was it worth it, Dario?” The sleeves of the white button-up I’m wearing are coated with the warm, crimson liquid too.

He’s not a screamer. He took the punishment I dolled out to him with gritted teeth and low grunts. He knows he’s fucked, that I will show no mercy. He’s accepted his fate.

His answer is silence. I take a step forward and kneel in front of him. His dark hair is caked with dried blood, and I grip it, tugging his head up to look at me. “Was. She. Worth. It?” I repeat my question, dragging each word out through gritted teeth.

Dario smirks, flashing his teeth as he smiles up at me. “Fuck. You.”

His lips pucker out and he sends a bloody mix of spit flying straight into my eye. I growl in response, then plunge the knife into his jaw. He gasps, and then I pull the blade out.

The basement door clangs shut with an ear-piercing bang. The clicking of dress shoes approaches. “Boss?” Benito, my right-hand man calls.

“Not now, Benny.”

“Paddy Murphy just called, sir. Oscar Callaghan passed away about an hour ago.”

My veins turn to ice, and for a moment I can’t seem to catch any air into my lungs.My best friend is dead.

1

ALESSIO

Three Years Later

Blonde hair fallsin front of her face as she cleans off the tabletop in the dimly lit club. I haven’t gotten a good look at her face, yet but the humming in my chest as I grow nearer to her already promises me that it is her.

The private investigator I hired to locate her nearly two years ago called me this morning with an address, and I wasn’t optimistic that he’d truly found her. Not until I came and saw for myself.

She’d slipped away into the night before I could stop her. Her brother refused to give me any information on why she left, or where she was going, and for two damn years, I’ve thought she was dead.

I promised her father I’d keep her safe, and I’d done a shitty job of that if she could so easily go missing from right under my nose.

The hole in my chest was left with a gnawing ache whenever I conjured up images of her dead in a ditch somewhere. And here she was. Right under my nose. Only six hours from home in Boston. How ironic that I’d found her in a club in Philadelphia that was a common meeting ground for the Italians here.

Music blares around us, the beat of the tempo flashing with the neon lights around us. In sync with the rapid pace of my heart.

She finishes wiping the table, grabs the bin of dirty dishes, and stands up. Before she starts in my direction, I move into one of the booths to keep myself hidden from her sight. And when she walks beside me, she turns just enough for me to catch her face. A blue light bounces off her skin, illuminating her. But I can see the freckle above her upper lip, would know that defined, high cheekbone anywhere.

It’s her.I’ve found Hadley Callaghan.

Relief eases the tightness in my chest. I can finally relax a little now that I know she isn’t dead, that she’s alive. And safe. I don’t particularly enjoy her being in the city, working in a club with Made Men, but it could be worse. She could be unprotected. Here, if she’s in with the right people, they’ll keep her safe.

As she passes, I take in her work uniform. A black tank top that’s more like a crop top, ass hanging out of tiny shorts, and fishnet stockings. The thought of a man touching her in that outfit invokes a possessive thought that pisses me off.

No man should be touching her. She should be safe, in my home, away from all of these perverts. She’s so close if I reach out, I can grab her by the wrist, haul her onto my lap, and squeeze her. I can feel her again. Smell her champagne-scented perfume, and taste the cherry chapstick she always wears.

It takes everything in me not to give in and pull her close to me. There’s a reason she ran from home, and I can’t spook her. I have to make her want to come home with me. If not, she’ll only run again.

I keep myself hidden while she finishes her shift, watching her, never letting her out of my sight. I’ll never let her out of my sight again.

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