Page 54 of Mafia Obsession

“Don’t scream,” the man says, his voice low and rough.

But I do scream. A sharp and primal howl tears from my throat.

I lunge for the lamp on my nightstand, intending to throw it, but it snaps back from the short cord. I lift it again and intend to break it, use a ceramic shard as a weapon, but the man eats the distance between us with alarming speed.

He crawls across my bed, his hand clamping around my wrist before I can throw the damn thing.

“You’re coming with me.” He finds a tender spot on my wrist and squeezes.

“No!” I twist, kick, and claw with a desperation and strength that surprises me.

“Stop,” he growls, attempting to pin my arms.

Panic ignites a feral survival instinct inside me, and I rake my nails across his face.

“Damn it,” he swears under his breath and knocks me against the wall with the kind of blunt force used by someone who doesn’t know how to handle resistance gently.

“Get away from me,” I scream and drive my knee upward, but he grabs my leg and squeezes that, too.

The pain is a jolt of electricity, and my body seizes from the pressure.

I’m dragged across the bed, my nightshirt pulled upward,exposing my panties and even the tips of my breasts. Oh God, what ifthat’swhat he wants?

He doesn’t take advantage of my nudity to crush himself on top of me, though. Just yanks me off the bed, pulling me so roughly that I crumble to the floor as pain explodes across my forehead. The world fractures into white light. I forget how to breathe for a moment.

The mammoth reaches into his overcoat and produces a rag. “Hold still,” he rasps.

Not today.

I scramble to my feet and rush for the bedroom door on the other side of the bed. The only element in my favor. Dizziness from the blow to my head tilts the room sideways, but I ignore it.

“Get back here.” The man catches me around the waist, hauling me off my feet. “I have orders to take you.”

Orders?

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you animal.” I bite the hand that attempts to cover my mouth.

But I continue to fight even as my strength evaporates and I’m dragged into the living room.

Another man is there. “What the hell?” he grumbles. “Put her out already.”

Mammoth’s large palm clamps the rag over my mouth and nose. Out of breath, I inhale a sharp chemical smell that burns my sinuses and floods my lungs.

With the last of my strength, I kick backwards, my naked heel connecting with my captor’s shin. There’s a feral curse, and I’m jerked backward. The living room spins, and my limbs grow sluggish. Darkness creeps inward from the edges of my vision as the relentless hand over my mouth refuses to budge.

Then a pop cracks, splitting the air in two.

The pressure on my mouth disappears. The man holding me convulses before he drops, his weight slamming into the floor hard enough to send my coffee table flying. Free of his hold and the rag, I stagger forward, catching myself against the wall as anotherpop popfollows. The second man jerks backward as if yanked by an invisible wire and lands beside the first.

The ringing in my ears from the pain swallows everything else. When my sight steadies, I see it was…Ares.

He stands alone in the middle of my living room, gun still raised. Smoke curls from the barrel of a silencer in a thin, lazy ribbon. His expression is carved, cold, and furious. His gaze is pinned to the bodies as if waiting for movement. When there’s nothing but the sound of my raspy, uneven breaths, those gray-violet eyes find mine.

He lowers the gun and slides it into the back of his waistband. I can’t pull enough air into my lungs to speak.

“Lourdes,” he growls my name and cuts the distance between us in hurried strides.

When he reaches me, he doesn’t touch me immediately.