Becoming the Hitman (Zanetti Famiglia Book 5) Page 6

  I don’t know how he even heard me, I’m barefooted and practically tiptoed in here. Slowly, I make my way toward him. Extending my arm, I slip my hand in his. He doesn’t wait for me to continue my steady pace toward him, instead he tugs me forward.

  I stumble as he shifts and slides me over so that I’m in front of him, his warm body pressed against my back, my front pressed against the wrought iron banister looking down over town. His hand leaves mine and his fingers dance up my arm, until he gathers my hair and shifts it to the side, exposing my neck.

  Inhaling a shaky breath, I close my eyes as his lips touch the side of my neck. The scent of smoke surrounds me, and it’s not a turn-off. On the contrary, it’s a turn on. He lifts his head and uses his other hand to take a drag from his cigarette while I tremble on my bare legs and look out at the rising sun.

  “You didn’t sleep long,” he rasps.

  “Did you sleep at all?” I ask.

  He’s quiet for a moment, then he lets out a low grunt. “Don’t sleep much,” he murmurs.

  “Me either,” I whisper.

  I could tell him why, but I don’t. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know him and I’m not about to open my wounds to some stranger that I’ll no doubt never see again. He must feel the same way because he doesn’t ask me for more and he doesn’t tell me anything in-depth about himself either.

  He moves his hand and I watch him stub out his cigarette on the banister railing before he tosses it on the ground next to his feet. I hear some rustling, then his hands are behind me and I flick my gaze down as I watch the foil packet float to the concrete and land next to the cigarette butt.

  “Renzo,” I rasp.

  He hums, his lips touching my neck, right where my shoulder meets. His tongue tastes me there and I can’t stop from lifting my hand and curling my fingers around the back of his neck. He growls low against my flesh, his lips and tongue continuing to taste my skin.

  I gasp when I feel his fingers slide up the outsides of my thighs and grip my panties. He wrenches them down without a care of the fabric’s delicateness.

  When they’re around my ankles, I step out of them just as one of his hands slips between my thighs. His other one slowly dances up the center of my torso until his fingers curl around my breast and he grips me.

  Gripping the back of his neck, I turn my head to the side slightly, touching my lips to the underside of his jaw as his fingers begin to glide through my folds. I’m ready for him already, wet and aching. I don’t know how, he’s made me come twice, my center aches from his size, but still I yearn for more.

  Widening my stance, I tip my hips and arch my back. He lets out a low growl as his fingers begin to move faster between my legs. He doesn’t slide inside of me, any part of him and I find that I feel empty—too empty. I want him to fill me, to stretch me, to bring me to that point of pain that feels so good.

  “Beg me,” he rasps.

  “Renzo,” I say on a moan.

  He hisses as his fingers continue to play me. I’m so close, my body breaks out in a light sweat as he moves faster and faster. His fingers are perfection, his dick even better. There’s nothing else that I can do, he isn’t going to slide inside of me until I beg. I can tell by the way he is giving me just shy of enough to get me there.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “Sweet,” he purrs. “So sweet.”

  Right when he finishes the T in sweet, he wraps his fingers around my hips, tugs them back, and surges inside of me in one swift move. I cry out, the entire street no doubt hearing me, but I can’t keep it in. It feels like he’s about to rip me in half in the best way possible.

  RENZO

  Her please is the sweetest sound in the world, until she cries out as I fill her with my cock. Now that is pure sweetness. I don’t thrust in and out of her immediately, I fill her and stay buried as I allow her to acclimate to my intrusion.

  She’s just as tight, just as wet, just as sweet as she was a few hours ago. Gripping her tit and her hip tighter, my fingers dig into her flesh. Pulling out slightly, I slide back inside, burying myself to the hilt.

  Her head drops down as her hips push back. She lets out a guttural groan as my hips slam against her ass. Dipping my chin, I lick my lips at the sight of my dick as it slides in and out of her wet heat.

  I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman bare more than I do her right now. I want to see her wetness cover my uncovered cock. It would be fucking gorgeous, I just know it. She moans again, pushing back, her body trembling as she lets out a heavy breath.

  “Legs together,” I grind out.

  I’m so fucking close, but she’s not there yet. She squeezes her legs together without hesitation. Releasing her breast, I grab ahold of her other hip and yank her body back. She lifts her head, throwing it backward with a short scream.

  Licking my lips, I grunt as I fuck her. It’s hard and fast, there is nothing else but both of us seeking our pleasure. Sliding one of my hands from her hip, I use two fingers and begin to move them against her clit.

  I fuck her hard, my fingers moving in quick firm motions, the sounds of our skin slapping filling the cool air around us. I could do this all day, in fact, I think that I could if I didn’t have other shit to do.

  Maybe I could just tie her up to the bed, come back and fuck her later this afternoon, then again tonight, and again until I’ve had my fill.

  “Harder,” she whimpers.

  I almost don’t hear her soft voice, her urging for more. If I were an ass, I would deny her, make her beg some more. My fingers apply more pressure and I move them faster against her clit, over and over and over as I continue to slam inside of her.

  She gasps, then her entire body goes limp as her cunt squeezes me. It only takes me a couple thrusts, my back tingles and my balls draw up almost immediately. When I bury myself inside of her, I let out a roar as I come.

  I help her up by my grip on her hip, my other hand leaves her clit and I press my palm against her belly. Both of us are panting, my body is just as shaky as hers, but I don’t want to move. I need to stay here, buried inside of her.

  “Cuoricino,” I breathe.

  Letting out a heavy exhale, I force myself to slip from her body. We both let out a moan at the same time. Before she falls to the ground on her buckled knees, I tug up my sweats and scoop her up in my arms.

  Carrying her back to the bedroom, I do something that I don’t think I’ve ever done before, I lay her down in the bed and I crawl up beside her. Wrapping my hand around her waist, I roll her over to face me.

  “‘Morning,” she whispers.

  Grinning, I lean forward, touching my mouth to hers, needing that sweet taste of her lips. “Tell me something,” I murmur against her mouth.

  She hums. “Like?”

  Shrugging a shoulder, I glide my hand up her side and to her face. Cupping her cheek, I glide my thumb across her bottom lip. My eyes follow the movement, unsure if I will be able to let her go after this morning.

  I’ve never been attached to a woman before, never wanted to keep one. Siobahn is different, I like her, too much. It has to be purely physical, but there’s the way she smiles, the way the pain in her gaze never quite leaves. She has been hurt, she has felt pain as deeply as I have.

  “Anything.”

  I don’t know why I give a fuck, but I do. I want to know something about her. Something that maybe not everyone knows. She clears her throat, her gaze flicking down, then slowly lifting to find mine. That pain flickers behind her eyes again and I hold my breath, waiting to see what she’s going to say.

  “I wasn’t planning on staying last night. My father probably doesn’t even realize that I haven’t come home, but I need to check on him.”

  “Check on him?” I ask.

  I’m suspicious, mainly because of the man who raised me. I killed the fuck, but maybe not all fathers are as selfish, mean, and pure fucking evil like mine.

  “He drinks a lot at the pub,” she whispers.

  I h
um. A drunk then. Maybe that’s why her eyes are pained. Perhaps he’s abused her in some way. If he has, I’ll end him. Plain and simple, I will end him without hesitation. Sliding my hand around the back of her neck, I squeeze her there, waiting to see what else she has to say.

  “He hurts you?” I grind out.

  She shakes her head once. “No, he just drinks too much and doesn’t work.”

  “So, you have to support the family?”

  She presses her lips together, the pain radiating from her. She’s showing me something, trying to tell me something without saying the actual words, but I don’t know what it is. I’ll find out, though. I will fucking find out.

  “It’s just me and my dad, not much of a family.”

  Leaning forward, I touch my mouth to hers, shutting her up. Slipping my tongue inside of her, I consume her the way that I know she likes. I fuck her mouth with my tongue, then I take my time and fuck her slowly with my cock.

  Chapter Eight

  SIOBAHN

  He drops me off at Kathleen’s with a promise to text me later so that we can meet up. I’m under no illusions that it means anything other than sex, but I can’t deny the way my belly flip-flops from the promised words and the kiss he delivers before he leaves me alone.

  Kathleen wrenches open her door, her hand wrapping around the back of Renzo’s button-down shirt, and she tugs me through her doorway. I could have had him take me home, but I didn’t want him to see where I lived and all of my things are still here from the evening before.

  “You dirty little slag, tell me everything. You shagged him, didn’t you? Oh, I don’t even have to ask, I can see it all over your face. Was it good? Was he hung?”

  Pressing my lips together, I try not to laugh at her rambling questions. I try and I fail. Letting out a laugh that turns into a fit of giggles, I sink down on her sofa, hissing when my arse hits the cushions.

  “Oh, he was big, wasn’t he? I could sense it. I have a sixth sense about those things you know.”

  “You have a sixth sense about penis size?” I whisper.

  Her lips curve up and she laughs as she flops down in the chair across from me. “That and the way you walked in combined with the hiss you made as you attempted to sit down. He was good to you, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding my head a couple of times.

  She reaches out, taking my hand in hers. “I’m glad, really I am. You deserve a good night.”

  “He said he’d text and we’d meet up again.”

  She doesn’t speak right away. Her eyes shift to the side, then come back to meet my own. “Don’t be… don’t be surprised if he doesn’t… call, you know?”

  Dipping my chin, I look down at her hand before I lift my gaze back up to meet hers. “I know. If nothing else, he was dangerous and sexy. Tall and built. He was beautiful.”

  She squeezes my hand. “You need that in your life, Siobahn. You deserve beautiful.”

  I don’t respond to her words, because I know that they aren’t true. I don’t deserve anything. I’ve never been handed a single thing in my life and the beauty of Renzo will not be mine to keep either. He’ll take from me what I’ll freely give him and nothing more. Nothing else will become of us.

  Once I’ve changed and given Kathleen back her dress, after she wouldn’t allow me to keep the dress to wash it. She forced me to just throw it in the hamper. Heading home, I wonder if my father has even realized that I was gone all night long.

  Climbing the stairs, wearing the same clothes that I worked in all day yesterday, my shower with Renzo now a complete waste. Opening the door, I slip inside. Looking at the clock on the wall, I let out a sigh, assuming since the pubs are open that my father has already left for the day.

  “Care to tell me where you were all night?” my father’s voice slurs.

  Turning my head, I see him sitting in the kitchen, his beady eyes narrowed on me. Jerking my chin, I come to a halt and look over to him. He’s slumped slightly, a bottle of something in his hand. What, I don’t know nor do I care.

  “I don’t. I’m twenty-five years old, I don’t need to tell you anything about my life,” I snap.

  He stands to his feet, swaying before he takes a step toward me. His face is turning a deep red color, his eyes narrowing even more, so much that I’m surprised he can even see me at this point.

  “I’m your da, you’ll tell me. You live under my roof and you’ll obey my commands,” he roars.

  I snort. Taking a step toward him. “Who pays for this roof? Who paid for your drink? As far as I’m concerned you don’t have the right to say fuck all to me,” I shout.

  I’m angry. Beyond angry. I’ve had little sleep and the best night of my life. He is not going to ruin it. Not because he’s pissed off and trying to give me rules a decade too late. He checked out years ago, he doesn’t get to try and take control now.

  He doesn’t answer me. I hear him grunt and I think it’s done, but it so obviously isn’t. He lifts his arm. His hand slices through the air and the back of it slams against my face. He’s never hit me before, not even completely sloshed has he ever tried to harm me in any way.

  My entire body shifts to the side and I immediately cover my aching cheek with my palm.

  “I didn’t raise a slag, yet that’s exactly what you’ve become, isn’t it?” he sneers.

  Trying to right myself, I look up at him and stand, squaring my shoulders. He smirks down at me, his face turning even redder by the second. He reaches out, wrapping his meaty fingers around the front of my throat and squeezes.

  My nails dig into his wrist as I attempt to pull him off of me. “Don’t, Da. Please, stop,” I beg.

  “Stay out again all night and I’ll end you,” he growls. “I lost the wrong daughter. Emilyn was good and pure, you’re nothing but trash.”

  He pushes me away and I fall down to my arse. Without another word, he turns from me, scooping up his bottle and marches out the front door, slamming it behind him. I stay planted in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down my face.

  I’m not crying from pain, or because he hit me. I couldn't care less about that, physical pain will disappear eventually. I’m crying from the emotional abuse. Doesn’t he realize that if I could have switched places with Emilyn, even a decade ago, that I would have? I would have traded with her in a heartbeat, but I can’t.

  I stay on the floor for far longer than I should, feeling sorry for myself. Once I’ve had my pity party, I clear my throat and push myself up to standing. Taking myself up to my room, I decide to take a long hot bath.

  This is my one day off and now I have to deal with having a black eye and fingerprints around my neck. I have so many errands to run, I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to go in public to do them all.

  Pressing my hand to my eye, I hiss at the pain. Forcing myself out of the bath, I dress in a pair of comfortable loose jeans and an oversized T-shirt. Styling my hair, I try to give myself a look that covers my eye, but it doesn’t work. So, I apply makeup, a lot of foundation—it still doesn’t work.

  With a heavy sigh, I grab a pair of big sunglasses, slide them on, and walk out the door. Maybe nobody will notice. Maybe. Though, I doubt it. It’s pretty obvious that I look exactly like a woman trying to cover bruises.

  RENZO

  Something niggles in the back of my head as I gather all my things and get ready to search for Orin, to case him, to find out what exactly he’s doing and why. Siobahn. I know that she is the reason my head is not in this. I need to have my head in this and not think about her.

  Opening up my laptop, I do exactly what I don’t have the time to do. I search for her. She didn’t give me her last name, but while she was sleeping for a few hours, I looked at her identification card.

  I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I wanted to make sure she was being truthful about her age, with her inexperience I didn’t believe that she was twenty-five. But she is and as I type Siobahn Doyle into the search engine, I
’m curious to see what I’m going to find.

  Expecting to find some social media posts, some pictures, maybe a few tagged photos of her and her friends, I find something that I did not anticipate at all whatsoever.

  A name appears and a few pictures, of a much younger Siobahn with a childlike version of her teenage-self standing next to her. Emilyn Doyle. Scanning the few old newspaper articles, my stomach twists.

  Ten years old and vanished in plain sight. Nobody saw a thing, zero witnesses. She climbed onto the school bus one morning and never was seen again. This is one of the reasons why Siobahn has pain behind her eyes. I thought that maybe it was a boyfriend who was mean to her, maybe neglectful parents, but I didn’t imagine that it was this.

  Leaning back in my seat, I decide to dig a little more and a little less legally. I’m sure that if I’m caught, the penalties would be heavy, however, I am never caught. I’m no computer genius, but I know what I’m doing when it comes to this, to gathering evidence and researching.

  Deciding that Orin can wait, I dig. And I dig. And then I dig some more. I find out where she lives, where she works. I look at the original case file of her sister’s disappearance. I try to find any kind of leads, but there are none.

  It truly is as if she had disappeared. Once I get all of the information about Siobahn that I desire, including the passing away of her mother shortly after her sister’s disappearance and the sad version of her father that is a breathing shell of a person, I decide to look into similar cases in the area.

  I find too many.

  Far too many.

  I think that Gavino and Sullivan are completely on to someone. Even if Orin comes out squeaky clean, someone is taking young girls. They’re stealing them from seemingly normal working-class families.

  There is something really fucking ugly happening here. I’m not a cop, never wanted to be one, but my job requires research and discovering all of this makes me wish that I were a little more legit.