Page 4 of Unhinged Little Angel

The thin line of Lorenzo’s mouth tells me he knows as well as the rest of us that a promise to behave from Les will only last until another distraction comes along.

“Right, as I was saying, I have Vander and Grif continuing to feed me any information they receive about what the Fitzpatricks are up to, and a few of our men on rotation surveilling every one of Declan Fitzpatrick’s moves, both waking and sleeping. That man doesn’t blow his nose without me getting a report about it.”

Alessio shoots me an amused look and I swallow the delight that threatens to show on my face. As casual as we are with Lorenzo most of the time, none of us are stupid enough to comment on just how much of his attention seems to be fixated on the gorgeous Irish boss. He might actually shoot us for that one.

“So, still no moves on that yet?” Elio confirms, and Lorenzo nods.

“It’s still a ‘wait and see’ for now. I don’t want to go to war with them if we can avoid it, but it might be necessary eventually if they keep pushing their boundaries.”

We all nod, and Lorenzo leans back in his seat, signaling that he’s finished with the briefing. Even though I know Dante’s performance is over, I reflexively turn my head to glance towards the stage, but the view is obscured by a much better one.

The clothes Dante shed and tossed into the crowd are no doubt long gone, but he’s pulled on another pair of skintight shorts, unbuttoned to show off the lacy thong he has on underneath as he struts towards our table with an air of confidence and violence that wafts around him like cologne. Myjaw tightens briefly at the thought of what those men plan to do with their trophies—whatIwould do with a pair of Dante’s skimpy shorts still warm from his body heat. But I don’t have long to think about it before he stops less than a foot from me, glitter sparkling on his eyelids and the metal piercing his nipples and belly button shimmering in the club lights. I wonder if he has anything else pierced.

“Don’t they even let you take a smoke break between getting off stage and sending you out to take drink orders and get groped?” Elio’s tone is friendly and conversational, but the urge to rip his eyes out for even daring to look at Dante nearly chokes me.

“Normally they would.” Dante puts his hands on the table and leans in like he’s going to tell us all a secret. The move brings him close, the smell of his sweat and spicy cologne tickling my nose and hardening my cock, tempting me to shift closer and drag my tongue over the fluttering pulse point in his throat. “But the rumor around here is that you boys are a bunch of terrifying criminals, so some of the guys are a little nervous to serve you.”

“Killonestripper for bringing us the wrong drink and suddenly we’re ‘dangerous criminals.’” Alessio flashes Dante a teasing grin, and even Lorenzo rumbles a low laugh at the joke.

“You’re not afraid of us, Angioletto?” I drag my tongue along my lower lip slowly, watching the predictably steady beat of Dante’s pulse.

He turns his head towards me, a wicked smile spreading over his lush lips.

“Baby, I’ve left scarier men than you bleeding.” The threat itself isn’t what sends the delicious spike of heat through me, it’s the glint in his eyes that tells me he’s not lying. “Besides…” He leans in even closer, so close I can taste his breath dancing across my lips on his next exhale. My balls tighten andeverything inside me aches to drag him onto the table and bury my tongue between his lips. “I never get a drink order wrong.”

He winks and pulls back before I can do something as stupid as act on the horny impulse to kiss him. It’s not just that I think he would bite my tongue off if I tried it that’s stopping me. I never touch a man unless he begs.

DANTE

Salvatore’s expensive cologne lingers in my nose even after I walk away from the table of mafiosos. For one brief, flickering second the heat in his eyes threatened to make me feel something other than blinding rage and disgust. Fuck me, thatwouldbe stupid, and not just because he’s in the Mafia.

Actually, if anything, the blood on Salvatore’s hands is a benefit. I know just last night I was telling myself that I don’t need to be any more involved with the Morettis than I already am. Between the friendly banter when they come in and the contract hacking work I did for them last year, I’ve already cozied up to them more than most people would dare to. But maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. They like me well enough, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to see anything bad happen to me…

Then again, why should they care? They’re not two-bit criminals, licking their chops at any excuse for a little violence. They’re running a business, albeit an illegal one, where death and destruction just happen to be part of routine operations. My problems aren’t their problems, and I’m not sure it’s worth whatever it would take to convince them otherwise.

A sick, inky feeling of dread creeps up my spine at the memory of the letter I got last night. Maybe I’ll keep my options open, and finding a way to convince the Morettis to save my ass can be a backup plan for now.

I’m so lost in my thoughts as I make my way towards the bar to get their drinks that I don’t even notice the man leering at me until he’s out of his chair and planting himself directly in my path.

“Hey there, beautiful.” He rakes his eyes over me like I’m a piece of meat, and I force a smile that’s probably closer to a snarl than anything friendly. “I was rock hard the entire time you were on stage. You’re something else.”

He takes a step closer, and I hold my ground, straightening myself up to my full height, which isn’t bad when I’m in my platform heels, but still barely brings us eye to eye.

“Thanks, sugar. Private dance is five hundred if you’re interested, I just have to grab a few drinks for another table first.”

He balks. “Five hundred? Cutie last week only cost a hundred, and that wasfullservice.”

“We set our own prices and mine is five hundred, danceonly. The only way to get full servicefrom me is to impress me, and you’re not off to a great start.”

His eyes narrow and my pulse kicks up.Oh, honey, if you want to play, I’d love the excuse to throw hands.Adrenaline has been coursing through me ever since I read that fucking letter and I would love the excuse to do something with it.

“I’m not paying five hundred dollars.”

I shrug. “No problem. Have a nice night.”

I move to skirt around him, but apparently he’s too smooth brained to know just how fucking stupid it is to piss me off. He wraps his arms around me from behind, bringing his large, sweaty body into contact with mine. Feral, animal rage courses through me instantly, coiling in my muscles and scattering all rational thoughts to the wind until the only one remaining is to bite and claw and hurt anyone who dares to touch me without my permission.

I snarl and snap my elbow back, savoring the pained yelp he lets out and the feeling of his nose crunching before a hot, sticky burst of his blood coats the back of my arm.

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