Page 14 of The Mobster’s Daughter (Massachusetts Mafia #2)

Caitlin

G rady gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, with a furrowed brow and tight lips. He did n’t speak.

She’d angered him, which wasn’t hard to do. A rough lesson she had learned over the years. She rubbed her forehead and watched the miles pass through t he window.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Final destination?” Grady answered. “W orcester.”

“That’s only forty-five minutes from home. Why don’t we just go to Weston?”

He grunted. She swore she heard his teeth grinding. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He’d loosened his death grip on the steering wheel, but he still had a scowl on his face.

“I told you I think someone in the family gave up our location,” he said. “We shouldn’t go home. We don’t want to take the problem to where your mom and dad ar e, right?”

Problem? Was tha t she was?

She cleared her throat. “What about the lady at the convenience store? Maybe it was her?”

Grady shook his head. “She didn’t know where we were going.

All she could do was tell someone what direction we headed.

There are a lot of places to hide. It was somebody who knew we were in Sharon and knew about the cabin.

Fortunately, that narrows it down. It will be easy for Sean to figure out wh o did it. ”

“My father will kill them,” Cai tlin said.

“Not if I get to them first,” h e mumbled.

“Your friend—Dante—is in Worcester?” she asked.

“No, we’re meeting him there,” he corrected her. “But not tonight.”

“What? Why not?”

Grady’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. His normally handsome face was marred with a scowl that made him look like a killer from a hor ror movie.

“Dante needs time to get things ready. We’ll meet him in Worcester tomorrow night.” He shot a glare at her and offered no more in formation.

The motel was in Ashford, definitely off the beaten path, practically in the middle of nowhere. It was aptly named the Ashf ord Motel.

Grady left her in the Bronco while he went inside to secure a room.

She put her gun on her lap, safety off, hand resting on the gun with her finger off the trigger.

She worried about shooting a hole in the Bronco’s floor, or maybe one in her leg, since every little noise made her fidgety.

When the driver’s side door opened, she snatched up the gun and pointed it right at Gra dy’s head.

“Christ, put that thing down,” he snapped. “Before you shoot me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She lowered it back to her lap and flicked the safety on.

“Come on,” Grady said. “Let’s get inside where i t’s warm.”

Caitlin nodded, shoved her gun in her backpack and climbed out of the SUV.

She followed him down the sidewalk and into the room.

She breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the cozy, heated interior.

For the last hour, she’d been in the Bronco, shivering as the chilly night air washed over her.

The SUV’s heater couldn’t offset the rush of cold air streaming through the buste d windows.

She dropped her backpack on the floor and looked around. One full-sized bed, barely big enough for Grady, let alone both of them. There was a recliner in the corner that she might be able to sleep in, though it didn’t look co mfortable.

“I’m going to make a phone call, then I’ll see if I can find some food,” he said. He tossed the room key—an actual key on a ring with the number twelve on it—on the bed. “Lock the door behind me and do not let anyone in except me. I’m not taking that with me, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” she asked.

Grady stared at her for a long moment. “In case I don’t come back.” He spun on his heel and marched out the door.

Caitlin threw the lock and flipped the door’s security latch.

She stood in the center of the room, taking everything in.

It was tiny and cramped. The bed was in the middle with end tables on either side, covered with an ugly green-and-orange floral print bedspread and two flat pillows that looked like they were straight out of the 1970s.

In between one of the end tables and the wall was a checkered chair and matching footstool.

The white part of the checkered pattern had faded to a dull yellow color.

On the wall opposite the bed stood a lamp, along with an armoire and a desk combination.

A TV sat on one shelf, the remote on the one above it.

A faint, flowery scent permeated e verything.

She crossed the room to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was clean.

On one side was a shower stall surrounded by cloudy glass and on the opposite side was the toilet and the sink.

Two bottles of shampoo and conditioner, along with a bar of soap and a small tube of toothpaste, were balanced on the edge of the sink.

Four stark white towels hung on the to wel rack.

A shiver raced through her. A hot shower might help warm her up.

She stripped off her clothes, shut the bathroom door, and turned on the water.

It took several minutes for it to heat and once it did, she grabbed the soap and got in.

Ten minutes later, she got out, dried off, and wrapped a towel aroun d herself.

Back in the bedroom, Caitlin sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

Once again, she had no clothes. She dried her hair as best she could, ran her fingers through it to comb it out, and pulled on her T-shirt.

After she folded her jeans and underwear, she put them in the drawer.

She picked up the remote, pulled the covers back, climbed in, and turned on the TV.

Forty-five minutes later, a pounding on the door interrupted her rewatch of one of her favorite rom-coms. She shut off the television, got out of bed, and peered through the tiny peephole. It was Grady. She unlocked the door and yanke d it open.

He strode in, and she locked everything again. He dropped a white, grease-covered bag on the desk portion of the armoire and pulled out the chair.

“I found a diner up the road. I bought some burgers, fries, and a couple of milkshakes, ” he said.

“Vanilla?” she asked.

He nodded. “Of course I got vanilla. Did you think I forgot?”

Caitlin smiled. She should have known he wouldn’t forget she preferred vanilla shakes to chocolate. He knew everything about her, and he nev er forgot.

She pushed the footstool over to the end of the desk, sat down, and opened the bag of food. It smelled incredible. Within minutes, she’d devoured everything but a few fries. She stifled a belch with the back of her hand.

“Hungry?” Grady asked as he popped one of her leftover fries into his mouth.

“I was,” sh e replied.

He got to his feet. “I’m gonna take a shower, ” he said.

While he showered, Caitlin cleaned up their dinner mess, returned the footstool to its place, then sat down on the bed. She contemplated turning on the TV again, but she wasn’t in the mood to watch anything.

The bathroom door swung open, and Grady came out in his jeans and T-shirt. His hair was damp and his cheeks pink from the hot shower. He made himself comfortable in the chair and propped his feet on the footstool, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

Caitlin went into the bathroom after him, washed the smell of hamburgers off her hands, and used her finger with a bit of toothpaste on it to clean her teeth. When she came out, Grady was in the same position he’d been in when she went into the bathroom.

She dragged in a deep breath as she perched on the edge of the bed. “Now what?” she asked.

Without bothering to open his eyes, he mumbled, “I’m getting really tired of that question, princess.”

“Well, I’m tired of not knowing what the hell is going on,” she retorted. “It’s my fucking life and I don’t know what’s h appening.”

“Maybe you should just trust me to handle things,” he said. “My job is to protect you. Let me d o my job.”

Caitlin snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you’re doing a shitty job of keeping me safe.”

Grady kicked the footstool away and bolted from the chair, moving so quickly Caitlin’s head spun.

He moved like a hunter, a warrior, a fighter—strong, feral, frightening.

Goosebumps broke out all over her skin, and a low heat spread through her belly as he pushed her down on the bed and stra ddled her.

“Your attitude is getting on my nerves,” he snarled. “If you weren’t Sean’s daughter, I’d spank your tight, little ass until it was nice and pink.”

Caitlin’s heart skipped a beat as her breath caught in her throat. The thought of him spanking her, marking her, his handprint on her ass, sent waves of desire rippling through every ner ve ending.

“What if I want you to hurt me?” she whispered.

Grady’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

Emboldened by an intense need to have him control her, to have him punish her, Caitlin swallowed her fear and murmured, “I said, what if I want you to hurt me?”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that,” he replied. “The things I li ke to do—”

“Try me,” she c hallenged.

He loosened his belt, yanked it free of his pants, and grabbed her hands. He wrapped it around her wrists several times, then cinched it tight. It annoyed her, but not enough for her to complain. He pushed her arms above her head and said, “Do not move.”

His hands slid beneath her shirt, pushing it up above her breasts. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” he asked.

Caitlin shook her head.

Grady’s lips moved over her neck and down her chest, mouthing at first one nipple, then the other.

He nibbled a line down her stomach until he was between her legs, then he pulled them over his shoulders and rubbed his bearded cheeks over her thighs.

He covered her with his mouth, his tongue gliding through her soft folds and flicking at her clit.

He groaned as her taste spread over his tastebuds.