Baby for the Beast Read online

  “You doing okay?” Chase asks. He nearly puts his hand on my shoulder when he asks, but seems to think better of it, pulling it back jerkily.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “I’m going to put the Notebook on,” Luke says offhandedly, as if the idea of a heavily tattooed, buff mafia guy wanting to watch the Notebook isn’t strange in the slightest. “You in?”

  “Um, sure?” I say.

  Chase sits down on the couch and motions for me to sit beside him. I take the spot and Luke squeezes in on the other side of me. I am scared of these men and my situation, but Enzo’s promise to make sure it works out okay clings to me like armor. As odd as it is to put so much value in the promise of a man I only met yesterday—a man who kidnapped me, no less—it’s the truth. I do trust that he’ll try to get me out of this, one way or another.

  So I let myself settle into a comfortable position, and even if it’s just for the length of a single movie, I try not to think about where I am or why. Chase is nice enough, after all, and even if Niko spends all his time sexting girls, he at least leaves me alone. Luke, though… I feel like he’s just waiting for a chance to get me by myself, a chance to try something vile. I scoot a little bit away from him and closer to Chase. An odd sense of guilt wells up in me, like if Enzo came in now and saw me sitting between the two men on his couch, he’d feel betrayed.

  I find myself making an excuse about how the couch is hurting my back and sliding down to sit on the floor with my back against the couch.

  Chase shifts like he’s about to say something, but Luke only turns sideways and kicks his legs across the couch where I was sitting as he flips the movie on.

  “So…” I say, trying to cut through the awkward silence. “Romance movies are your thing?” I ask.

  Luke makes a noncommittal sound from behind me. “These clowns want to call me a pussy for it, but the way I see it? You want to get pussy, you have to speak pussy.”

  Niko looks up from his phone with an expression of utter disbelief. “That might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” he says dryly before looking back to his phone.

  Luke blows out a dismissive breath. “You’ve got your techniques. I’ve got mine.”

  I can’t help grinning a little. As much as these men seemed like hardened killers on my first meeting, I’m starting to see a little more of their personalities, and it goes a long way toward making me less scared of them.

  “So, you and Enzo hook up already?” Luke asks once the movie has been playing for about half an hour.

  “Come on, man,” says Chase. “If you think watching these movies is teaching you to ‘speak pussy,’ you just proved you’re not learning shit.”

  I keep quiet, not wanting to admit what happened between Enzo and me, even if they can all probably guess it.

  “You think women want what you do?” Luke asks. “All that soft buttery shit? If you didn’t look like you were in a boy band, you’d never get within ten feet of a pussy with your nice guy act.”

  “Fuck you,” Chase says.

  “The way both of you are talking,” Niko says without looking up. “You should both be in a boy band. Maybe you can sing some duets together. Grab each other's asses."

  I try my hardest to stifle a snort of laughter, but both Chase and Luke hear it. I can sense their eyes on the back of my head.

  I think I’m about to get an ear-full from them when the door bursts open to the room. I notice for the first time that the sounds of the club beyond the private room have woken back up, filling the space with a thumping, electronic beat. I can even hear glasses clinking and muted conversation coming from outside. I had almost forgotten I was stashed away in this private corner of the club and not some fancy apartment complex.

  The men who enter are jaw-dropping. They both have beards and dirty blonde hair. One is a little taller and more roguish with a look on his face that says he doesn’t smile often. The other has a hint of laughter in his eyes, but at a glance I can tell both men are involved in the same lifestyle as Enzo. Mafia. I’d even go as far as to say they could be his brothers, from the vague resemblance I see in some of their features.

  “Enzo’s calling everyone in,” says the taller of the two. His voice is heavy and deep.

  “Off your asses,” says the other one, who I take to be a couple years younger. He’s shorter by maybe an inch, but both men are still well above average height, even if not quite as tall as Enzo.

  Nico gets up, actually tucking his phone in his pocket. Luke pauses the movie and hands me the remote. “Sorry babe,” he says. “Those are Enzo’s brothers. If he had them come get us, it’s something serious. You can watch without me.”

  “We’ll be back,” Chase promises.

  The two brothers eye me with a look of interest for a few seconds before they usher everyone out of the door, leaving me alone again.

  Without knowing what else to do, I end up turning the movie back on and sitting there, more than a little distracted.

  The door opens a few minutes later, and this time Enzo comes in. He’s breathing heavily and sweat is covering his forehead. “You’ve got to go. Now. I thought we’d have longer. I wish we did,” he says, voice full of regret. “But it has to be now.”

  “What?” I ask, standing up.

  “I don’t have time to explain anything.” He hands me my phone and meets my eyes. “It’ll be too dangerous for me to see you again. This is goodbye,” he says, pulling me in and kissing me full on the mouth.

  The kiss catches me so off guard that I don’t do anything for a moment. I only stand there, his mouth soft and warm against mine, my nose full of the masculine scent of him and the heat of his body so hard but inviting. I only just begin to kiss him back against all my instincts before he pulls away with a look on his face that has warmth flooding between my legs. God. It’s not fair what this man can do to me.

  “I don’t understand,” I breathe. A whirlwind of emotion tears at me. The biggest part of my brain is ready to take any opportunity I can, to run and never look back. But at the same time, the idea of walking away from him feels wrong. It feels like something incomplete still hangs between us both, like he was a puzzle I had yet to solve, and leaving now would mean he’ll always be on my mind, always gnawing at me like the opportunity I let get away.

  “You don’t need to understand,” he says. “It’s easier this way. You’re going to need to leave the city. Start over somewhere. If my father finds out you’re alive, he’ll try to make an example out of both of us.” He cups my cheeks in his hands, forcing my eyes on his. “Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll listen.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. “Okay…” It’s all happening so fast. Too fast. I feel like I’m sliding down a steep, slippery slope without anything to grab a hold of to slow myself down.

  He kisses me again and guides me by the back to the door. “You have to leave on your own. And take this,” he says, handing me a credit card. “I’ll make sure it always has all the money you need on it. Okay? Use it for whatever you want. I know it doesn’t excuse kidnapping you,” he adds with a grin, “but I’ll feel better knowing you’re taken care of. Now go,” he says, giving me another push.

  I turn to say something. To thank him. To curse him. To kiss him. I don’t even know, but I don’t get a chance because he slams the door behind me. I’m left to walk out of the club on my own and I’m strangely free after less than a day from when he kidnapped me. One day and he turned my world upside down. I’ll have to talk to everyone at the clinic and explain—except I can’t explain anything. I’ll have to lie, to make excuses, possibly lose my chance to keep working as a veterinarian.

  Despite it all, I can’t quite believe I just saw Enzo Luciani for the last time.

  11

  Enzo

  Four Months Later

  I’m in my private room at the club while Luke, Chase, and Niko lounge on the couches by the TV like usual. Niko has a girl he plucked from the club in his lap and th
e two of them are making out, but it’s hardly anything new, so I barely notice.

  The truth is, I’ve been spending more time here because I can still picture Neela padding around barefoot when I’m in this place, the way she looked so vulnerable while she scarfed down the noodles after her little hunger strike, and the way she tasted when I stole one last kiss before I forced her out of my life. Letting her go tore a fucking chunk out of my insides, and instead of healing up, it just feels like the wound is festering. She’s all I think about anymore.

  I’d already been on something of an extended hiatus before I kidnapped her, and now the thought of using another woman to take my mind of Neela makes me sick to my stomach. I can still remember the way she tasted, and I know another woman would just wash away that memory.

  “You good?” Chase asks.

  I didn’t see him approach me, but he’s leaning on the counter in the kitchen beside me.

  “I’m good,” I say stiffly.

  He leans in a little closer and lowers his voice. “Look, man. I know you have to stay tough and all that shit. Your reputation, respect, whatever. But you don’t have to pull that around me. I’ve got your back. What’s eating at you?”

  I sigh and shake my head. “I’m fine, Chase.”

  “It’s the girl. Isn’t it? It’s not like you to get hung up on a girl. Hell, I’ve never even seen you blink after cutting one loose. But I guess Neela was something special, wasn’t she?”

  “What would you know?” I ask, feeling a sudden protective anger rise up. Even after four months, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of her as mine. I still check her account almost every day to make sure she doesn’t need money, but frustratingly, she hasn’t spent a dime from the card I gave her. I should’ve figured she’d be too stubborn and strong-willed to take the handout.

  "Easy," Chase says, holding up his hands. "I just mean she wasn't one of the airheads that usually end up following us around, not like one of Niko's bimbos. You know?"

  “Yeah,” I say, relaxing a little. “She was special.”

  “You’re sure the boss isn’t going to figure out we let her go?”

  I lean forward, jabbing a finger into his chest and fixing him with my eyes. “I said we never talk about it. Not even among ourselves.”

  Chase nods, gulping down a heavy swallow. “Sorry. I just…”

  “He won’t find out as long as she keeps laying low for now,” I say with a sigh. “Maybe a few years and it’ll blow over. Once he forgets to care. Maybe then she can stop feeling like she has to hide.”

  I don’t tell Chase what really happened. I don’t talk about how I went to talk to her father before my own the day after I kidnapped her, how I told him if he wanted his daughter to stay free, he’d find a way to push the case back as long as he could. If my father got a whisper that Neela’s father was still moving forward with the case, he’d probably try to kidnap Neela’s sister, and I couldn’t be sure I’d be able to get her to safety, too.

  So I lied my ass off. To her father. To mine. In the end, I created a fragile web of assumptions and lies that will fall apart if a single thing goes wrong. It was the best I could do, and it has been enough, so far.

  I pull up her account on my phone absent-mindedly, as I’ve made a habit of doing several times a day, even though it has never changed. My heart nearly stops when I see the balance. She spent about four hundred on the card. She used it. Is she in trouble? Fuck.

  When I click on the account to see what she bought, everything I thought I knew or cared about comes crashing down around me.

  12

  Neela

  Oh wait, wait!” I say, tapping my palm on the countertop by the register. “Can you undo that charge? Shit,” I say under my breath. “That was the wrong card.” I look down at the card Enzo gave me. My stomach feels sick. I promised myself I’d never use it. I knew he could probably see the account and he’d know where I was if I bought anything. Worse, he’d know I needed his help. I know it was stubborn of me, but I wanted to prove that I didn’t need him to fix my life after he left it in shambles.

  Only…

  I look at the box sitting on the counter. A baby crib. I just charged a goddamn baby crib to his card. Of all the possible times to have baby brain kick in. He’s going to think I was trying to tell him he got me pregnant.

  I put my hand on my stomach, closing my eyes as my hands start to shake. I only kept the card in my wallet in case of an absolute emergency, but I knew that was a bad idea.

  “I can cancel the charge,” says the girl. “It might take a few days to come off your account and get refunded though. Is that okay?”

  “It’ll have to be,” I say with a forced smile. “Use this one.”

  She smiles and takes the card, swiping again. “I’ll have someone help you to your car with that. Congratulations, by the way,” she says with a meaningful glance at my slightly swollen belly.

  “Thank you.”

  I leave the crib in the car until I can get Jess or my dad over to help. I had to move nearly two hours away to feel safe from Enzo’s father, and maybe even that wasn’t enough. But the veterinarian I interned with during college knew the head vet tech at a hospital out here and was able to put in a good word for me, so I took what I could get.

  I felt like I was looking over my shoulder for the first few weeks. Now though? Enzo and his whirlwind of trouble feel distant, like a wild, fevered dream that couldn’t possibly be real.

  By that evening, I stopped feeling so stressed about the mishap with the credit card, too. Chances are, Enzo hasn’t even thought about me since the night he let me go. It’s a cynical thought, and it stings, but I dwell on it like I might keep testing a sore shoulder, moving my arm just to make sure it still hurts, because it’s the only way to know if it’s healing. Like a stubborn injury, the empty place Enzo left won’t heal. Carrying his baby doesn’t help, and I’ve agonized over whether keeping it a secret or telling him is the right thing to do.

  On the one hand, Enzo is as much a parent to this baby as I am. Granted, I think I get the majority vote for the whole pregnancy bit, but I believe a father has the right to know. Only… Telling Enzo would put the baby in danger. It'd put me in danger. And I can’t help thinking back to what he said about his childhood, how he ended up in the mafia because he wanted to be like his father and make him proud. What if my baby followed the same path?

  So I do what I normally do when the debate comes up in my mind. I decide I’ll make a final decision when the baby is born. Until then, I’ll wait.

  Jess came over when I called and told her about the credit card. She’s sitting in my small kitchen nook with a glass of wine in her hand and a sour look on her face. Her brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and she wears a big sweater and sweatpants. She always calls it her “girls’ night in” outfit. I’m sure it’s not unique to us, but it’s still our tradition to dress in the comfiest clothes we can find—fashion be damned—and watch a few romance movies. I’m blaming my pregnancy for the amount of chocolate I decided to stock up for tonight.

  After I explained how I used Enzo’s credit card, the mood has been depressing.

  “There’s a good chance he knows,” Jess says. She’s never one for hopeless optimism. Knowing I can count on her to give me the truth, no matter how unpleasant, is nice sometimes. Right now is not one of those times.

  “He’d have to be constantly checking the account. What are the chances, realistically?” I ask, popping a Dove chocolate in my mouth. “I’m serious, if you had seen this guy, you would understand why I’m so sure he moved on. Enzo was…” Sweet, once you dug beneath the gruff and violent exterior. He was honest, and he followed through on his promise to free me. And he was also an absolute sexual beast, which he made painfully evident when he knocked me up after I’d known him less than an hour. I want to sigh at that last thought. I’d always thought of myself as a reasonable and logical woman. Strong-willed and intelligent. Not the kind of woman
who gets seduced and has wild, crazy, amazing, unprotected sex with a stranger. Then again, I never could’ve understood what it would be like to be in that moment with him so close to me, either.

  “Enzo was... what?” prods Jess. “Probably a murderer? Part of the mafia?”

  “Shhh,” I say, bulging my eyes at her. “You said you wouldn’t talk about that.”

  She gives me a patient look. “What, are you worried they ‘wired’ your house?” she asks, adding air quotes with her fingers to emphasize how ridiculous the idea is to her. But she didn’t get a glimpse into their world. All she got was a day of fear that her sister might’ve stayed out too late with a guy and my confused explanation of what happened. My dad said no one from the Luciani’s even tried to make a demand out of him. He’s seemed incredibly stressed ever since it all happened, but I think it was just the scare of knowing the work he loves put us in danger, even if what happened was unlikely.

  Someone bangs loudly against the front door, making us both jump. Jess swears, reaching for a napkin to clean up her spilled wine.

  I go to the door, wishing it had a peephole. I pull it open just a crack.

  I nearly fall back when I see who is standing at my door.

  Enzo Luciani. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a white v-neck that shows off his tattoos and a hint of his muscular chest. He plants his hand on the door, forcing it open so he can stare at me, chest heaving like he just ran a mile. His eyes scan me up and down, studying my belly.

  I put a protective hand over my stomach, feeling it turn over with dread when I realize he must’ve seen the charge and put two and two together.

  “Enzo…” is all I can say, voice a near-whisper.

  “That’s him?” Jess practically shrieks from behind me. “Wow. Anyone ever tell you that you look like Adam Levine, you know, if he punched people in the face for a living?” she asks. When Enzo only spares a glare for her, she clears her throat, grabs her wine, and mutters something about just excusing herself for a long bathroom break.