Page 7 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

Tristan

I up and leave my post at the front once Kirsten comes through. Joel, the owner, and I have a deal that I can come and go as I please since I’m paying him, not the other way around.

I’ve just walked into the main part of the club when I see blonde hair racing for one of the emergency exits.

So, she’s already had enough? Damn. Maybe I pushed her too far in the pat down, but I couldn’t help myself.

After weeks of watching her, finally getting my hands on her was too much to resist. God, she was soaking wet and tight, just like I dreamed she’d be.

What the hell is she thinking going outside in the cold without her coat and all alone? Is she leaving? Maybe she’s just getting some air, since she wouldn’t leave her phone.

I follow her into the alley and find her leaning against the brick wall in her pristine white dress. Well, it won’t be so pristine now.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Her closed eyes open. She straightens and faces me. “What the hell was that?” she demands, voice raised.

“You mean my fingers in your pussy?”

“Yes!”

I shrug and fidget with the sash of my idiotic toga. “That’s all it was.”

“You’re not supposed to touch me underneath my clothes!”

She’s right. I did promise to abide by the rules when Joel agreed to let me lurk around and pretend to be a guard.

“You’re the only patron I’ve ever touched like that.”

“Bullshit.”

Okay, I’m so confused by her anger, I’m momentarily speechless. Has she figured out who I am? Why is she so angry? Still, I don’t care if she yells as long as she keeps talking to me.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask.

“This place isn’t me. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“It can be you if you want it to be.”

“Oh, shut up, you handsy bastard.”

I grin at her feistiness. “I doubt you would’ve shown up here if you weren’t a little interested in trying out BDSM.

What’s your kink?” I pretend like I don’t know about the cop.

When she just glares at me for several seconds and then looks away, I blurt it out.

“You like being restrained? Can’t find a man to give you what you need?

I bet you like being told what to do, too, don’t you? ”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

I wait silently, hoping she’ll say more, give me a little more insight into her mind that’s made me crazy for weeks.

“In my normal life, I’m the one giving the orders, always in control.”

“So, you think it would be nice to concede it for a little while in the bedroom,” I guess, and she nods. “Well, I’m the opposite. I get told what to do all day, every day, so at night I want to be the boss, the one calling the shots. We could be a perfect match.”

Okay, so maybe I’m laying it on thick. But I’m working on a deadline. One given to me by Creed’s very pregnant wife and Dre’s viper bitch wife.

But before Kirsten can even laugh at my attempt to get her underneath me, a loud pop rings out in the alley.

Fuck. I know that sound too well.

I dive for the woman in the white dress, taking her down to the ground and covering her with my body.

“Shit,” a man’s voice mutter.

“Stay here,” I tell her when I look over my shoulder and see the guy take off on foot.

I’m up and running a second later, since I know in my gut this wasn’t some random act of violence.

Someone followed Kirsten here tonight and was waiting for her to leave, probably to make her murder look like a random robbery gone wrong.

Fuck that.

I pump my arms, urging my legs to run faster. At least the toga doesn’t hold me back. I take a hard right at the end of the alley to pursue the shooter. Wearing a black hoodie and jeans with the hood up, he glances over his shoulder and speeds up when he spots me chasing him.

“You’re fucking dead!” I roar.

He turns down an alley just before I can grab the back of his hoodie. I slow as I change direction. Oh, but he picked a dead end. Apparently, he’s not a very good assassin.

“Who sent you?” I ask as he points his gun at me while walking backwards. “Tell me!” I demand in a roar. “We might be working for the same side.”

He shakes his head and fires a shot that goes wide to the left. Definitely not a professional.

“Do you know who the fuck I am? I’m a Ferraro.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Did Creed send you? His wife, Zara? Or Stella Rovina Ferraro?”

“Goddamn. How many people want this bitch dead?”

“A lot. And she’s my kill,” I lie. “Now, tell me who paid you so I can make sure they know she’s mine.”

“I-I can’t,” he says before he turns and starts to climb up a dumpster.

I easily grab his ankle, jerking him back down. He lets go of his gun in the clatter, not that I was too worried about him hitting me, since he’s a horrible shot.

As I pull him off the dumpster, he’s so busy reaching for his lost gun that he doesn’t try to stop his fall, landing headfirst on the pavement. His neck bends at an unfortunate angle.

Shit.

I can tell by the way his body goes limp that he’s either unconscious or dead, neither of which I have time to deal with right now.

Dammit, I was just about to convince Kirsten to let me tie her up!

Reaching for the side of his neck, I wait several seconds, not feeling a pulse.

Well, fuck. I check his wallet, take his cash and ID, then heave him up and over into an open dumpster.

Throwing a few black trash bags from the closed one on top of him, I hide his body from view before I race back to the club.

Kirsten still sits on the filthy ground, her back against the building, knees tucked to her chest. Her white dress is now more of a dirty grey color.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I approach her.

“What was that about?”

“Someone just tried to kill you and failed spectacularly.” Kneeling before her, I notice her knees are skinned and bleeding. Her arms too. “Sorry about the scrapes.”

She just stares at me, at my eyes visible through the stupid mask. “You went after him and I…froze.”

“It’s normal. Fight, flight, or paralysis. I’ve always been one to fight. The guy who shot you was flight, or he would’ve stood his ground and put a few bullets in me.”

“Why did you do that? Why risk yourself for me? You don’t know me.”

“I want to know you,” I admit. “And that wouldn’t happen if you bled out and died in a shitty alley.”

She just looks at me unblinking in her mask, as if in shock. Looks like the night is definitely over.

“Come on.” I stand and offer her my hand.

“I’ll get you home, since I’m guessing you don’t want to go back into the club.

” She nods and takes my hand with her much smaller one, letting me pull her to her feet.

She’s unsteady on her heels, so I put my arm around her waist to support her.

“We’ll stop by the front check-in to get your coat and phone. ”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She’s probably going to be in shock for hours, which means I won’t get to play with her anymore tonight. It’s a shame, but how was I supposed to know someone would send an assassin after her?

Speaking of which, tomorrow morning, my cousins and I are going to have words, their wives too.

They have to at least give me a chance to come up with the blackmail to convince her to drop the charges before they send someone to kill her.

That won’t solve shit, since the next DA will just pick up where Kirsten left off.

A few minutes later, I help her into her coat, put her phone in her hand, and flag down a taxi for her from the sidewalk in front of the club. “Are you going to be okay from here, or do you want me to come with you?”

She blinks and then says, “Should I call the police?”

“No.”

“Why not? I was almost shot and —”

“He won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

“How do you know?”

“Get in the car, Kirsten.”

Her lips part and I realize I’ve made a grave mistake.

“H-how do you know my name? I thought this was all supposed to be anonymous!”

She’s more concerned about me knowing her name than the fact that someone almost killed her.

“Go home and get some sleep.” I don’t tell her that I’ll make sure she’s safe, since I’m going to follow her to her apartment in my truck and sleep outside it tonight like usual.

Thankfully, she nods and then slips into the back of the taxi. I shut the door without another word, hating that it means the end of speaking to her tonight or probably any other time. I had my chance, and I blew it.

Actually, the gunman blew it for me. Now, I have to have words with my cousins and beg for more time before they kill the woman I’m obsessed with.