Page 87 of Promised at Birth

I see Gwen in a cell lying on a nasty mattress on the concrete floor. I am furious. I want to kill somebody. She is being questioned by a female police officer. Her hands and feet are bound with zip ties. Two male paramedics are trying to cut the zip ties off her. Gwen is awake but seems out of it.

What the hell is she wearing?

Gwen is wearing a skimpy, string bikini that barely covers her ass and tits. Some of the male cops are leering at her body.Fuck me!I can see goosebumps all over her naked skin from the cold and damp basement. I want to pick her up and hold her.

I push everyone out of my way as I crouch next to my wife. She is laying on her side. I rip off her zip-ties with my bare hands. The ties have rubbed off skin from her wrists and ankles. She rolls over. When she sees me, she turns her head. So, I am right as usual, she is pissed at me.

“Who are you?” The female uniformed cop asks.

“I am her husband, Bobby Vincenzio.”

The female cop recognizes my name and steps away.

“Mr. Vincenzio, your wife says she wasn’t raped. She doesn’t have any injuries, just a little bruising. She is out of it because they drugged her. You can take her home, but we may need a statement from her when she feels better.”

Gwen has bruises on her upper arms – somebody held her down. I am livid that somebody had their hands on her. Her bikini top has slipped and is barely covering one of her tits. I see a cop eye fucking her. I clench a fist. I want to punch him into oblivion.Calm down.My men move in front of Gwen and me to block everyone’s view.What can I say?My wife looks like a pin up girl. I take off my suit coat and drape it over her.

“Gwen, baby, are you okay?” I ask her.

Those blue eyes are glare at me. Her blonde hair is messy and tangled.

“I hate you.” She announces.

The fire in her eyes turns me on.

“I know, c’mon I am going to take you home.” I reach for her.

“No! I am not going anywhere with you. Don’t touch me!”

Gwen pulls herself into the fetal position, refusing to look at me.

Fuck. She angrier that I thought she would be. I hear one of my men whistle and another groan because nobody talks to the Capo of the Chicago Outfit like that. I sigh. I don’t have time for this. I don’t want to make a scene. I need to get her home. I am tired. She has been through too much because of me. I am pissed at the Russians, New York, Nick, everyone. I have a nasty temper. I cannot lose it at Gwen. I remain calm. I stand up. All eyes are on me. I bend over and pick up Gwen. She struggles in my arms. I throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I put my arm over her luscious bikini clad ass to keep men from ogling her. She tries to kick me. The drugs are wearing off.

Gwen screams, “put me down! If you do not put me down, I am calling the police.”

“The police are already here, sweetheart.” I tell her.

I hold Gwen’s legs still with my other arm. I climb the basement stairs. She starts hitting me in the back with her hands. She is not strong enough to hurt me. I walk out the front door of the club with my men right behind me. Gwen struggles and screams all the way to the SUV.

“Bobby, I want a divorce! I hate you. I never want to see you again. Put me down! You left me here to die! You cheated on me with Vanessa! I hate you!”

I know. I have a lot of explaining to do.

I see ADA Travis Beckman and Detective Murphy on my way to the SUV. They both are wearing bullet proof vests over their three-piece suits. Pussies.

“Hey Bobby, your wife doesn’t seem so happy to see you.” Murphy says and laughs, along with Travis.

“Is she okay?” Travis asks.

“She is fine. She just missed me.” I say as I lightly stroke her ass.

Everybody laughs.

Gwen starts to pound on my back harder. She has given up screaming.

“Bobby so far, no video. Computer techs will go over the Russians’ hard drives. I doubt we find it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just tell the DA Reinholt that you did. He will resign.”

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