When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)
When He Desires: Chapter 41

“Try him again. We’ve gotta get in touch with those fucking Italians in the next twenty-four hours for this to work.”

“Maybe we should have waited until we talked to them.”

“Did I ask for your fucking opinion?”

A groan escapes my lips. My head’s pounding, and my throat is bone dry. Suddenly, my body bounces, and pain shoots up my spine. I’m in a vehicle.

“You awake, Blakey girl?” That’s Uncle Lyle. I crack my eyes open and see his face hovering over me. “Thirsty?”

I nod, my thoughts struggling to coalesce into coherence.

A hand slides under my head and lifts me a few inches off the ground. Lukewarm water that tastes like plastic drips past my lips, but I’m so parched I don’t care. I drink greedily, my palms pressing against the rough carpet stretched over the floor of the van.

Uncle Lyle watches me closely. “You’re a bit banged up. Hit your head against the floor when you passed out.”

It’s like a light suddenly turns on. Memories come flooding back, and I choke on the water, spitting it all down my front.

Sam!

“Oh my God, Sam… Sam’s—“

Uncle Lyle shushes me and pulls me against his chest. “He’s dead, Blakey. That boy’s dead.”

Adrenaline surges through me. I fight him, claw at him, scream. This is a nightmare. This isn’t real.

An arm appears around my throat, then a hand presses to my lips. I smell cigarette smoke and gasoline. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the reality of my situation crashes into me.

“Stop fighting, girl. You’re only going to make this worse for yourself. You want me to tie you up?”

I go slack in his arms. A few seconds pass before his grip on me loosens and he turns me around to face him.

His eyes are pools of pure darkness. I’m trembling. Crying. Begging.

He just smiles. “I told your daddy I’d take care of you, but I haven’t been doing my job very well. Until now.” He slides his palms down my arms, brushing against the sides of my breasts and lingering there for a moment too long. “After all of this is over, you’ll be staying with me.”

I feel like I’m about to pass out again, so I bite on my tongue, hard enough to draw blood. I’ve got to keep my wits about me. “I don’t understand. Where are you taking me?”

“You’re bait.” He brushes my hair out of my face, and I recoil from him. I want him to stop touching me.

His eyes narrow. “Behave yourself.”

“Bait?” I choke out.

“Your boyfriend’s gonna come for you. Save us the trouble of trying to transport a demon like him across six states.”

Nothing makes sense. “I don’t understand. What do you want with Rowan?”

“Lyle, he picked up,” someone calls out from the front of the van. “You want to talk to him?”

Uncle Lyle grins at me, clearly pleased. He reaches over to take the phone from one of the men.

“Took you long enough,” he says to whoever is on the other end of the line.

I scan my surroundings for anything that could help me escape. The van is moving at a steady pace along the highway, the barren landscape flashing by in a blur of muted colors. It’s dark out, but there are enough cars around us to make me think it’s not that late yet.

Shifting my position, I feel something dig into my butt cheek. I slide two fingers into the back pocket of my jeans and remember Sam’s keys.

Grief pangs through me, mixed with a healthy dose of disbelief. I can’t believe he’s dead. He died trying to protect me.

Tears blur my vision.

He knew they were going to kill him. I saw it in his eyes. So why did he use his last seconds to give me his keys? Can I use them as a weapon? I won’t know until I can take a closer look at them.

He told me to keep them on me, so for now, I’ll just have to do that.

“What more evidence?” Uncle Lyle growls into the phone. “You got the photos, didn’t you? The video? That’s the fucking evidence.”

Who is he talking to? He wants to lure Rowan to somewhere. What for?

“Good. We need to discuss compensation.”

I try to make out what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but it’s impossible to hear over the hum of the vehicle.

Uncle Lyle laughs sardonically. “Why do I get the sense you’re not taking this seriously?” A pause. “I see. Well, it’s your lucky week, because this is the real deal, but we’re not bringing him over until I’ve got a guarantee I’ll get paid.” A longer pause this time. “Fine. Good. Like I said, two days. We’ll be there.” He hangs up and slaps his palm against the driver’s shoulder. “We’re good, boys. Told you it would work out in the end. Now focus on the driving. Not a mile above the speed limit. We don’t want any attention on us.” He turns to look at me. “And you’re going to be a good girl and do exactly as I say, understand?”

I nod, even though I understand nothing. Who were they talking to? What do they want with Rowan?

When I shift my position, my bladder whines in protest. “I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper.

Uncle Lyle drags his gaze down my body in a way that makes my blood chill. “Let’s stop in Wilmington, boys. Gotta rest up and eat something before we get back on the road later tonight.” He sits down beside me and pulls me against him. I start shaking again.

“Shhh, Blakey girl,” he whispers, his dry lips pressing against my ear. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.”

He doesn’t let go of me until we come to a stop what feels like fifteen minutes later. Outside the tinted window is a motel with peeling yellow walls. Two women who look like prostitutes loiter by the vending machine.

Something tells me I’m not going to replace much help here. I have to try to run.

As soon as we get out of the van, I jerk out of Lyle’s grip and with everything I have, force my half-numb legs to move.

Faster, faster.

My feet pound against the cement. There’s a road with cars driving down it. If I reach it, I can try to flag one of them down. Maybe someone will stop. I’ll throw myself into the middle of traffic if I have to. I’ll—

Something collides against my back.

I land on my elbows, my long-sleeved sweater ripping against the rough concrete.

Rough hands turn me over, a weight lands on my belly, and then there’s a hard slap against my cheek.

I start crying. It’s instinctive.

“You stupid girl,” Uncle Lyle seethes, his spittle landing on my face. “Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

“Why are you doing this?” I plead through my tears.

He hauls me up, his palm wrapped around my arm like an iron coil. “Shut up.”

“What do you want with Rowan?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he mutters. “You fucking know who he is.”

One of the other Iron Raptors comes over, looking at me with contempt while he hands Uncle Lyle a key. The thought of being locked inside a room with Uncle Lyle weakens my knees, but he just drags me along and pushes me inside one of the units.

The door slams shut behind us.

Another sharp slap lands against my stinging cheek. “Don’t ever do that again.”

I cradle my burning flesh, blinking at him through my tears. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Whoever you think Rowan is, you’re wrong.”

Uncle Lyle rears his hand back again.

I raise my arms to protect myself. “No, please!”

He stops, hand in the air. Realization flashes in his eyes. “You really don’t know who Rowan is?”

I shake my head.

He stares at me for a long moment, and then he starts to laugh. It’s cruel and ugly, and it makes me so fucking scared.

Dread fills my stomach, thick and heavy. I take deep breaths, trying to calm down. I won’t get anywhere if I keep acting out of panic.

“You stupid girl,” he says through his laughter. “He pulled one on you.” His eyes darken. “This is exactly why you’re going to stay with me from now on. You can’t take care of yourself, can you? You’ve been sleeping with a New York gangster for the last few weeks, and you had no idea?”

A New York gangster?

Brett’s office. Those photos. I’d forgotten about them in all the chaos, but they come back to me now. “What?”

“He was high up. And he’s got quite the reputation.” Uncle Lyle’s sick smile disappears. For a split second, I think I see a hint of fear in his eyes. “They call him the Angel of Death.”

I blink at him. “You’re lying.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you see us hand him over to the people who are going to pay us a lot of money for replaceing him. He’s got a big bounty on him.”

“Who wants him?”

“The Ferraro family. You ever heard of ’em?”

I shake my head.

“They’re one of the mob families in New York. Your ‘Rowan’ killed one of their family members and then faked his own death. He’s been hiding like a fucking rat.”

He’s got it all wrong. He has no idea what he’s talking about. Someone lied to him, and now he’s going to ruin my life and Rowan’s over that lie. Was it Brett? “Rowan will call the police. They’re going to replace us, and you’re going to go to jail.”

He chuckles. “So naive. Your boyfriend’s got a record twice as long as mine. Before he disappeared, he worked for Rafaele Messero. Of course, you’ve got no idea who that is either. Messero’s the head of a very powerful mob family.”

My head swims.

“You really trusted him, didn’t you?” He leans forward and grabs me by the chin. “Well, then it won’t be so hard for you to trust me.”

Rowan, a gangster in hiding? The whole story is insane, but Uncle Lyle thinks he’s telling me the truth. Either someone’s managed to fool him or…

Or…

He drops his hand. “I’m going to leave you alone for a bit now. Got some calls to make. But don’t get any ideas. One of my guys will be just outside the door.”

He waits for me to acknowledge that I heard him with a nod, and then he walks out the door.

I slump against the wall, my heart racing. Then I remember Sam’s keys still lodged in my back pocket.

I fish them out and hold them in front of my face. Looking for… I don’t know what.

Then I see it.

An AirTag.

Relief expands inside my chest like a balloon. Rowan has a way to track me. Assuming he figures it out, but I have to believe that he will.

And then it hits me that Sam spent his last moments thinking of a way to save me. He knew they were going to kill him, and he still tried to protect me.

A tear slides down my cheek, but I wipe it away. I have to be strong. Strong like Sam. Losing my shit again isn’t going to help me, but staying aware of my surroundings and being ready for when Rowan comes will.

The motel room is small and bare-bones. It takes me only fifteen minutes to search every nook and cranny for something I can use as a weapon. But there’s nothing at all. Not even a phone to call reception. I do have Sam’s keys…

I take the AirTag off the key ring, slip it into the tiny pocket nestled inside the bigger pocket of my jeans, and keep the keys clutched in my hand.

Soon enough, Uncle Lyle comes back. He comes in holding a greasy paper bag in one hand. “Got you some food.”

I get to my feet from where I’m sitting on the bed. “I’m not hungry.”

He closes the door and drops the bag on the small table by the window. “Suit yourself, but don’t complain when you’re hungry later. We’re not making any unplanned stops.”

My gaze tracks his movements. “Okay.”

He takes off his leathers and hangs them on the back of a chair. “You should get some sleep. We’ll be back on the road in three hours.”

Sleep? It would take an elephant tranquilizer to get my adrenaline levels anywhere low enough for me to sleep.

When I don’t say anything, his eyes skate down my body, lingering on the outline of my breasts. “If you don’t want to sleep, there’s something else we could do. Something I’ve been thinking about for a very long time.”

I take a step back.

He gives me a sickening grin and walks closer.

I start to move around the bed, trying to keep some distance between us, but then he leaps forward, and he’s right there, pushing me up against the wall.

I scream, and he puts his palm over my mouth.

“Quiet,” he hisses. “You don’t want to make me angry, Blake. If you behave, I can make this good for you.”

My body grows very still as my brain goes into overdrive. I can’t fight him. He’s stronger, and he’ll overpower me in seconds. Maybe if I go along with it and strike him when he least expects it… If I can catch him off guard, maybe I can get away.

I have no idea if he’s still got one of his guys outside the door, or if he told them to leave when he returned. I just have to hope the guard left. It’s a risk, but I don’t have any other choice.

“Can I remove my palm?”

I nod.

He drops his hand and steps closer, pressing his body into me. “Even at fifteen, you were already a beauty.” His dry lips drag over my cheek. “The perfect mix of innocence and temptation.” He slides his hands under my shirt, and then his hands are on my breasts, squeezing painfully.

I readjust my grip on the keys, pushing them through the gaps between my fingers.

He kisses me, and I nearly gag. He pushes his tongue between my lips, tasting like ash, smelling like stale sweat. His fingers pinch my nipple.

You have to kiss him back. Make him believe it.

It takes everything in me to force my lips to move. As soon as they do, he groans and rubs himself against my thigh.

My vision blurs. I’ve never felt more sick.

Because I’m not confident my stomach can survive more of this, I shove at his chest. He breaks the kiss and takes a step back, sliding his hands out from under my shirt. His expression starts to turn angry once again.

“I have to tell you something,” I rush to say.

The anger halts. Just like I thought it would. “What?”

“You’re right.” I take a deep breath. “I think I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble.”

He arches a brow.

“I’ve been so lost on my own.” I swallow hard, the keys gripped tightly in my hand. “And Brett was never any help.”

Uncle Lyle’s eyes flash. “That boy’s an idiot. You need a real man, Blake.”

“Maybe I do.”

A self-satisfied smirk starts to bloom across his face. “I told you—“

And that’s when I strike. I slash the keys over his face, trying to get his eyes. I think I manage to do it, because he yelps in pain and staggers backward.

I don’t waste a second. I run toward the door and grab the lock, trying to turn it.

Fuck, it’s stuck.

It’s stuck.

Oh God.

And then it isn’t stuck anymore, and I fling the door open. One foot manages to make it out.

Just one.

Before something rams into my head, and I pass out.

When I regain consciousness, there are hands all over me and a tongue inside my mouth. I scream.

Uncle Lyle jerks away from me, his bloody face coming into focus. There are two bloody gashes running from his forehead to his cheek. I missed the eyes after all.

His expression is a twisted snarl. “You lying cunt. You really fucked up now.”

His level of anger is enough for me to deduce that little time has passed. I must have been out for less than a minute.

He pins my hands above my head, his blood dripping onto my face, and starts to undo my jeans.

I buck against him, fighting him with all my strength.

He slaps me hard, and the taste of copper fills my mouth. “You want to do this the hard way, then? After the move you just pulled, I think I’ll enjoy making you scream.”

He tears open the zipper and starts pulling down my jeans. I’m thrashing like a captured animal, but he’s so much stronger that it’s no use. He squeezes my wrists with his hand until I think he’s about to break them, and he shoves his other hand inside my panties. He probes me painfully, his nails scratching me as he forces two fingers inside me.

I scream again, but it’s not as loud anymore. My voice is hoarse. Defeated. I can feel myself losing, my will breaking.

BANG.

The door flies open.

Uncle Lyle roars, pulling his digits out of me, scrambling off the bed. He pulls a gun from behind his waistband and points it at the person in the doorway.

My vision blurred with tears, I stare at the silhouette standing in the doorway.

It’s Rowan.