Page 9 of Unhinged Little Angel

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there.”

His end of the call goes dead without a formal goodbye, and I pull the phone away from my ear to stare at it for a few seconds. I don’t know what the hell that was, but my heart is thumping with curiosity to find out.

Ten o’clock can’t come soon enough.

Chapter 5

SALVATORE

I circle Dante’s block twice, looking for anything suspicious, any cars or people who are out of place. His apartment lights are on the first time I drive past, but dark the second time. I can’t decide whether that’s a good sign or a bad sign, or if it means any-damn-thing at all. The muscles in my jaw twitch and the unease I’ve been feeling since he called hours ago tightens in my shoulders and up the back of my neck. Maybe I’m paranoid, but considering my job, I think it’s warranted. Once you’ve seen the worst of humanity, it’s hard to look at the world through any other lens. Besides, anyone who’s been paying close enough attention might have seen Dante being friendly with us at Wild most nights and figured he would be an easy in to get at us in one way or another.

Not knowing whether this is some kind of trap or hostage situation, a sting where the feds have him wearing a wire, or a booty call would be funny if it didn’t have my blood pressure so damn high. I take a breath and grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I make another right turn onto his street. This timeDante is outside his building, wearing a jacket with his hands stuffed into the pockets and looking up and down the street. His usual guarded scowl is in place on his face, and I can’t see anyone else hovering nearby. The weight of my pistol strapped to my chest, hidden under my suit jacket, is the comfort I need as I slow to a stop and roll my window down.

“Angioletto,” I murmur the word like a growl, full of the hungry desire I’m doing my damnedest to keep tightly restrained.

He’s not dressed for work. No skimpy shorts, see-through material, or tight leather in sight. He’s no less tantalizing in jeans that hug his legs, begging to be peeled off slowly, and a black t-shirt under his jacket with a plunging neckline that shows off the olive branch tattoos across his collarbone and the butterfly between his pecs. The barbells through his nipples make their own distinct shapes in the fabric too, and I can see them clear as day thanks to the streetlamp directly overhead. I’m well aware that I’m staring at him without an ounce of subtlety, but instead of the snarky tongue lashing I’m expecting, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and looks at me through his eyelashes.

The look draws me up short. It’s sweet as hell, calling on every instinct I have to leap out of the car and protect him from any and all dangers that might dare to lurk anywhere near my little angel. The problem is, sweetand Dantedon’t belong in the same sentence.

“Get in.” The words are sharp, and I glance around again as he rounds the car without argument to climb in on the passenger side. Getting him somewhere else will at least help me rule out the possibility that this is a trap. Unless Dante is the one with the plan to get violent with me. I can’t imagine I’d be that lucky.

I entertain a brief fantasy of the two of us grappling, beautiful rage burning in Dante’s eyes as he flails and snaps, moreforeplay than any actual attempt to do either of us any harm, begging for me to tame him and make him feel safe for the first time in his life. My cock swells and Dante clicks his seat belt into place. I rev the engine and he licks his lips, leaving them glistening with dampness I’m aching to taste.

“Thanks for coming,” he says hoarsely as I pull away from the curb.

“Are you going to tell me why you called?” I split my attention between him and the road, trying to find any sign that someone put their hands on him, hurt him, forced him into this situation in some way, while keeping an eye out for anyone following us.

“Is it a crime for a guy to want a little company, Sal?” He chuckles but the sound is off, too tight, and turns his head to look out his window. We’re already out of his neighborhood, heading through the heart of the city on our way towards the highway. He doesn’t ask though.

“I’m supposed to believe you called me for a fuck out of nowhere?” I arch an eyebrow even though he’s not looking at me and take the ramp to get us out of the city. “Did the city run out of pretty subs willing to pretend all your bratting is proper Domination?”

Without even looking over at him, I can feel his mood shifting, my taunt finding its mark perfectly. He sits up straighter in his seat.

“Fuck you,” he huffs, exactly like the brat he is, whether he wants to admit it or not.

“That’s what we’re discussing, Angioletto,” I purr, glancing at the city lights in my rearview and noting with satisfaction that there’s no one tailing us. “You’re saying you called me to fuck, and I’m just not sure I believe that.”

Dante huffs again, but this one sounds a lot more like a laugh.

“I didn’t think you were hurting for self-esteem.” His hand lands on my arm unexpectedly, and he trails his fingertips over the expensive, silky fabric of my jacket—black for a change, but with embroidered details. I opted for all black tonight, from my suit to the undershirt to my tie, even the corset vest. “You’re well-dressed, powerful, charming…”

The sultry tease in his voice licks at my skin and makes me resent the layers of fabric keeping me from feeling the actual warmth of his fingers.

“My self-esteem is just fine,” I assure him. “And my brain works even better. As much as I’d love to believe that you were hit with the sudden, irresistible urge to ride my cock, it doesn’t add up.”

The roads get darker the farther we get from the city, and the turn-off I need to take is hard to spot even in the daylight, so I keep my focus on the road, which isn’t hard now that Dante has gone quiet. The traffic is sparse out here, leaving us with just the hum of the engine and our own thoughts for a few dozen miles. I could turn on music, but then how would I be able to hear the steady rhythm of his breathing or the quiet creak of him shifting against the leather seats every so often?

“Where are we going?” he asks, a hitch of worry creeping into his voice that he immediately tries to hide with his usual sharp tongue and bared teeth. “I swear to fuck if you’re taking me out into the middle of nowhere to murder me and dump my body, I will rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

A warm chuckle rumbles in my chest. “You’re the one who called me,” I remind him. I turn down the gravel road to our destination, wincing at eachthunkof a rock or stick ricocheting off my Jaguar and no doubt scratching the paint. “And we’re just going somewhere quiet where we can talk without being interrupted.” A smirk twitches on my lips. “Or fuck, if you were serious about that.”

Another irritated, heavy exhale, and then he bites out, “Fine.”

Trees start to close in around us, blocking out the light of the moon. This wouldn’t be a bad place to get a jump on someone, out in the middle of bumfuck where it wouldn’t matter how loud they try to scream. But Xaviaro and Sparrow love to come out into these woods to play chase and fuck like animals in the dirt, and if any of us started offing guys out here, he would get all pissy about bad energy and shit. Besides, there’s no shortage of places in Wildcliff where no one gives a fuck about hearing gunshots and screaming anyway, so why waste the gas?

I slow to a stop in a clearing at the top of the hill, with Wildcliff spread out in the valley in the distance, lighting up the night sky and looking every bit a dream instead of the nightmare she is more often than not. I turn off the engine, then undo my seat belt and turn towards Dante.

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