Consumed by the Mafia (De Salvo Family #5)

5. Off the Rails pt I

five

Off the Rails pt I

Abigail found herself hauled from her seat and into Ryōma’s lap as if she weighed next to nothing, as if they weren’t hindered by the confines of a car at all. His hands dipped past the waistband of her yoga pants, deftly rolling them down until she was half bare and straddling him. It was only then that she realized he must also have pushed his seat back to make room for her, although with his naturally long legs, he may not have had to.

She gasped—as much in pleasure as in shock—when his fingers settled over her clit. His other hand had lifted up her spine to the nape of her neck, drawing her close and keeping her in place. “Ry-Ryōma, we can’t—we could— ah! ” Shit, it was hard to think straight when he kissed her neck and touched her that way.

“We can,” he rumbled against her skin. His fingers stretched lower and pushed past her entrance. “We will.” He licked at her pulse point and curled his fingers inside her as he dragged them out. “Feel that, baby girl? You’re already wet for me.”

Abigail gripped the back of his shoulders for something to hold on to as he shoved his fingers into her again, his thumb rolling across her clit simultaneously. She groaned out loud. “Y-you’re … cheating.” How was she already so worked up? He’d had his hands on her for all of twenty seconds and her body was singing. That couldn’t be natural. Oh, fuck! But it felt so good.

Ryōma lifted his kisses up and over her jaw, catching her mouth and sweeping his tongue inside. He kissed her hard and deep, his hand unrelenting, until her body surrendered and the orgasm crashed over her. She was the one who broke the kiss, her back arching, her hands twisting in his shirt.

He withdrew his hand after a few seconds, a low, heavy groan vibrating from his chest. “That’s my dirty girl. So fuckin’ sexy.” He popped one finger into his mouth, licked it clean, then brought the other to her lips. “Taste yourself on me.”

She didn’t even think before opening her lips and accepting the digit, her eyes fluttering closed as she swirled her tongue along his skin. It wasn’t the same as when she’d sucked his dick, but it wasn’t unenjoyable, either.

“Baby girl.”

Abigail opened her eyes again and released his finger .

Ryōma promptly reached down and loosened his pants enough to free his straining cock. His hands adjusted to her hips and he lifted her over him, going only slowly enough to make sure everything was lined up properly. Then he was inside her, stretching her, filling her, and Abigail held him tighter as fresh waves of pleasure rippled through her body.

Ryōma moved a hand to her ass, the other sweeping up to tangle in her hair, as he began rocking against her. “Fuck, baby girl, your pussy fits me so fucking good.”

She panted against him, her head spinning and her body burning. It was all she could do to drop her forehead to his shoulder and moan something lusty. Words escaped her.

Ryōma angled his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Later, I’m gonna slip into your bed and fuck you nice and slow. I’ll have you coming so many times you pass out.” He dragged his hands back to her hips and bounced her on his cock. “Right now, we don’t have time for that. But you are gonna come with me, aren’t you? You’re gonna fall apart all over my dick when I fill your pretty pussy with my cum.”

Her nails bit into the back of his neck as her eyes threatened to roll back in her head. “Y-yes,” she gasped.

His fingers stretched to dig into her ass cheeks. “What was that, baby girl?”

She licked her lips, doing her best to rock against him despite his hold. “Fuck, please, yes.” He slammed deeper and she cried out. “Yes!”

Ryōma buried himself inside her, grinding against her at the perfect angle, and his rough growl rolled over her. “Come for me. ”

She let go, screaming his name into the cab of the car as her body convulsed over his. He held her tight, his own release chasing after hers and flowing into her. It was wrong on so many levels. Yet she sank against him, boneless and sated from a hunger she hadn’t realized she’d had inside. Her heart still raced, thrilling a little more at the way his fingers moved over her skin with a gentled touch.

She hadn’t been drunk this time.

What the fuck was she doing?

His gut insisted Abby had already been pulled into their little war with Coughlan and his gang, but Ryōma was well aware he needed more than that to justify telling her his secrets without receiving permission. Not that he had any intentions of letting that handicap put her in harm’s way. He also had a promise to keep. No reason one can’t pave the way for the other. “I have to make a call, baby girl,” he said as he tugged his phone from his pocket. He went first to retrieve the images he’d sent himself from her phone. They needed to be forwarded to be useful. “I know you have questions, but I’m gonna ask you to hold on to those a little longer.”

She shifted in her seat. They were fully redressed and he’d cranked the engine over to restart the air conditioning, but it was late July and they’d definitely worked up a sweat. “Can you make the call from my apartment? I’d like to change.”

Ryōma grinned. That wasn’t horrendously unreasonable, and they’d gone enough the other direction that the coast was probably clear to swing back that way. If nothing else, he would be there. Whatever had happened to set Coughlan off—whether it was the jab to the nuts or if he thought she’d overheard something—Ryōma would make sure the threat didn’t touch her.

His memory flashed back to the visual of the man, presumably one of Coughlan’s, with his hand fisted in her hair. It had been all Ryōma could do not to jump the curb in his car and run him the fuck over.

“Little of each,” he said, dragging himself back to the moment. “It’s actually two calls. So I’ll make one now, and one when we get there.” He winked at her, wiggled his seatbelt for emphasis, and then fished out his earpiece in order to drive and talk at the same time. She was buckled by the time the phone was ringing and he had the car in motion by the time Mikey answered.

“Is this to explain the two random pictures you just texted me?” Mikey asked, a faint layer of irritation in his tone. Which was normal for him. Moreso since he’d gotten married and taken to actually trying to step away from his computer on weekends. “All I can tell is that it looks like Silva got caught being an ass.”

Ryōma snorted. “Silva’s an issue, yeah,” he said. He turned into traffic and the air conditioning cooled notably as the car accelerated. “But he’s not the main one. I’m pretty damn sure the guy with him is Brendan Coughlan.”

Abby shifted again in her seat. That was fair. If she hadn’t had questions for him before, she definitely would after this.

Mikey’s reaction, of course, was louder. “Fucking what ? How certain? Where did you get these pictures? Where and when was he last seen?”

This must be where I learned that habit. Ryōma almost grinned again at the recognition. Almost. “Yeah, that story’s probably also a problem.” He winced at his own wording, but he knew that was how they’d see it. All he could do was speak honestly. “One sec.” He glanced to the side as they idled at a light. “Where were you when you got waylaid by those two?”

Abby’s brow pinched for a moment, her gaze going distant as she thought back.

“You’re with someone?” Mikey asked.

“Girlfriend,” Ryōma replied. He was sure Cris had shared that piece of news.

“They were outside Nonna’s Pastries, not half an hour before I called you,” Abby said. “Talking up next to the wall like they’d just randomly walked into each other.” Her tone bespoke her skepticism.

Ryōma repeated the information, adding, “Presumably one of them is the one who sent that dirtbag chasing after her. So he might know something.” Meaning it was good that he hadn’t run the bastard over.

“I already watched the exterior footage,” Mikey said after a second. “I get why you might want that guy. I’m still struggling with the bigger connection. How did your new girlfriend happen to run into Brendan fucking Coughlan, after we’ve been searching for that fucker for months without a solid lead? Did he just introduce himself and not realize her connection to you?”

“None of that,” Ryōma said. He opened his mouth to explain, but Mikey beat him to it.

“Let me hear it from her.”

Ryōma ground his teeth, but he supposed he wasn’t overly surprised. “One sec.” He tapped the dashboard, switching from his earpiece, and nodded to Abby. “Could you explain to my supervisor what you told me about that incident?”

Her eyes widened and she swallowed visibly. “Um, sure.” She cleared her throat and repeated the story she’d told him previously.

Ryōma moved one hand from the wheel to curl his fingers over her thigh. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was trying to offer her support or if the gesture was purely selfish. Regardless, she didn’t swat him away.

Mikey cursed. “Okay. I understand now. Thank you for explaining that to me. Ryōma, have you called Cris, or anyone else?”

“Figured getting you the info was priority one.” Ryōma slid into the lane he needed in order to take the final turn before her apartment complex would be in view. “Was gonna call Cris next.”

“Good. Do that.” The line disconnected seconds before Ryōma rounded the corner.

He saw the other vehicle coming in slow-motion. He lifted his hand from Abby’s thigh, to stretch his arm across her body, even as he spun the wheel in an effort to avoid the collision.

“Shit!” Abby cursed. In his peripheral vision, it looked like she reached for the purse she’d previously lifted up off the floor.

The oncoming SUV slammed into them, moving fast enough and coming at enough of an angle that the front of his car crunched and the entire thing twisted, spinning completely out of control. Abby shrieked as the rear windows popped from the pressure and then the airbags finally deployed.

In the next second the air was punched from his lungs and his consciousness faded.

As if he were hanging in some mystical, suspended state, Ryōma realized he needed to take action. Even though he couldn’t yet open his eyes. It was like he hovered in a fog. They’d been hit, too perfectly for it to have been anything other than intentional, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He hadn’t been able to shield her.

Why did he always fail to protect the people he wanted to?

Blood splattered across his mind’s eye.

His father’s grief-stricken, outraged voice roared up from the depths of its cage in his memory. “It should be you on this floor!”

Ryōma sucked in a sharp breath, his body aching as his vision started to clear. “ Kuso .”

Something popped nearby, immediately followed by a familiar pinging sound. Blurry figures of movement caught Ryōma’s attention a heartbeat before he heard Abby cough. He blinked harder, willing his body to wake the fuck up. He could hurt later.

Abby groaned, the sound ending on a sharp gasp—the kind he didn’t enjoy. “Ryōma, Ryōma, wake up! They’re shooting at the car!”

He ground his teeth and finally got his arms to move enough to dig a knife from between his seat and the console. The blade ripped through his seatbelt with ease, thankfully, and then he twisted to slice her free of hers. She gaped at him. “I need you to trust me right now, baby girl,” he said as the seatbelt came loose. He tossed it off of her and found her wide blue gaze. “I’ll get us out of this, but it’s gonna be ugly. Ask me whatever the hell you want when it’s over. If you wanna yell or hit me for dragging you into this, I’ll take it. Later.”

The windshield snapped, cracking as their assailants finally thought to focus their gunfire on the compromised glass.

“This is insane,” Abby said, her gaze darting out before back to his. “How is this your fault?”

“Later,” Ryōma said, diving into the console for his backup phone. He pulled the burner free and tossed it to her. “Soon as we’re out, take cover and call Cris. Just tell him what you can and stay the fuck down.” He put all his weight into his door and the windshield shattered. Fuck!

There were two men outside, each armed. Neither seemed to think they needed to reload, as they promptly adjusted their aim.

Ryōma had already grabbed the pistol from under his seat, so he swung it up to take out the man aiming at Abby first. He at least had signed up for this life. But he was actually startled when his wasn’t the only gun to erupt from inside the car a heartbeat later, and just like that, both their attackers were down.

“Oh, fuck,” Abby said.

Ryōma snapped his gaze to her, seeing the hole in the headrest over her shoulder where one bullet had lodged in the split-second chaos. She looked disheveled, and may have had some small cuts from the various flying glass, but he saw no concerning blood stains. What he saw instead was both her hands wrapped firmly around the butt of her own gun, still held half-raised in her lap and pointed out, in the direction of the other man. The man who’d been aiming for him.

Ryōma lowered his gun and reached over, encouraging her to do the same without trying to take it from her. “Abby. Breathe, baby girl.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek when she looked at him. “You might’ve just saved my life. I think I’m in love.”

She scoffed, her shoulders relaxing and her lips twitching. “I just killed a man. Please don’t say stupid things right now.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “What the hell is going on? This feels … this wasn’t an accident, was it?”

He’d never had such a strong urge to comfort someone, and he’d certainly never not had anything he could do with a compulsion so powerful. But even he recognized the timing was wrong for any sort of romantic moment. So Ryōma scooped the phone she’d dropped off her lap and said, “No, baby girl, it definitely wasn’t. I’m thinking Silva tracked down your information either from the bouncer at the bar or that pastry shop. Either way, he knows where you live, and they’ve assumed you’re in with me, which means you’re in with us. Plus you actually put hands on a dangerous man. In legit self-defense, but they don’t see it that way. They’re coming after you now, for all of those reasons.”

He saw her brow pinch again as she tried to keep up with his words. “None of that makes sense.”

“It’s a bunch of bullshit, for sure,” Ryōma said. He pocketed the phone and the gun. “We need to get out of here, fast. This car’s not goin’ anywhere anymore.” He resumed his earlier effort to shove his door open, and on the third attempt it flew wide. The frame had obviously jammed badly enough to nearly lock him inside. Not exactly a surprise.

His body protested the first real movement when he hauled himself up and out, but it wasn’t the worst pain Ryōma had dealt with, so he pushed through. He rounded the front, gun in hand again, just in case either of their attackers were faking. They definitely were not. Abby had landed a beautiful headshot. His own target had taken one to the throat. It was a bit of a shame they wouldn’t be talking, but he felt no guilt. Not about that.

Abby’s door opened easier, thankfully, and she was able to stand on her own feet after he helped her out. The pain was visible on her face, but she was standing. The only blood he saw was in the form of small scrapes, nothing that would even scar. It could have been so much worse. It should have.

Ryōma took her hand and guided her toward the side of the road, abandoning the car for expediency’s sake. “C’mon, before the next ambush hits.”

“You think there’ll be more? ”

“I do.” And he didn’t think they’d survive it as they were.

Abby looked over her shoulder as they started walking. “I-I should…” Her hand held tighter to his. “Maybe we should split up.”

Something stabbed into his chest. “Abby, let the adrenaline fade before you go makin’ that kind of decision,” he said carefully. He tucked his gun into his waistband, knowing he needed to be calling for backup despite that he’d rather be talking her through the things in her head.

She whipped her gaze up to him, blinking rapidly, then winced. “No! Not—I didn’t mean us . I meant we should go in different directions. Like … tactically.”

His lips twitched and the sharpness in his chest eased. “Well, then I forgive you for nearly breaking my heart so suddenly.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m not leaving you, baby girl. No matter how good a shot you are.”

She huffed out a breath and leaned into him as they neared the alley he was aiming them for. It was just a small pathway of sorts behind and between another set of buildings, but it was out of sight and out of the way. “Who do we call—where do we go—when we can’t trust the cops?” she asked quietly. “Do we go to the feds?”

“Hell no. Even if we could trust ‘em, there’s only so much they could do.” Ryōma swept his gaze carefully over the scattered boxes lining one wall. He saw no movement, and they definitely needed to get out of sight of the road before that scene became swamped with all the people they could least trust. Because now that she’d made him think about it, he’d rather be dealing with feds than the seemingly merged mess of assholes bearing down on them.

He could hear the sirens now.

Abby straightened and planted her feet before they could get too deep into the alley. “Ryōma, stop hiding shit from me. We just nearly died and I had to kill a man. You say I’m being targeted because I was seen talking to you in public. What the hell’s going on?”

Ryōma frowned. “Baby girl, I want to tell you. But not here, okay? Those sirens don’t mean anything good for us. Can you trust me a little longer?”

She pursed her lips but didn’t release his hand. “It’s not that I don’t,” she said. “I just … I don’t like being in the dark. I hate being left out of things that involve me.”

He stepped closer and kissed the top of her head. His voice was low when he spoke. “You’ve figured out that Silva’s dirty. The other guy, Brendan Coughlan, he’s the head of what used to be a big Irish mob. There’s a story there that isn’t my place to tell, but it seems like the bastard’s basically living for misguided revenge. He’s the real power behind the gang that calls themselves the Ink Blots, you’ve probably heard the name. And all of those groups are looking for us right now, so we have to get off the streets, okay?”

Abby’s mouth had fallen open while he talked, her eyes getting bigger until he finally finished. “That’s—Are you … shitting me?”

“Wish I was, baby girl.” He gave a gentle tug on her hand. “Let me make a call? ”

She licked her lips, her gaze promptly dropping to their hands. “How did you get tangled up in all that mess?” Her question was quiet. Hesitant.

Ryōma frowned, looking up to check behind them again. The sirens were louder, definitely headed their way, but they seemed to still be in the clear for the moment. “Depends on how you look at it, I guess,” he said. “But this isn’t the place for any of those stories, Abby. I know you want to know, and I’ll tell you everything I can. I promise.” He tipped her chin up, guiding her eyes back up to his. “Maybe then you’ll tell me a little about you?”

Her mouth opened. Closed. She swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

This time she let him pull her further into the alley, properly out of sight of casual passerby. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. On foot and injured as they were, they’d never escape a chase from either likely group of pursuers who rolled in next.

Ryōma kept her up against his side and put the burner to his ear. It wasn’t his usual phone, so he wasn’t surprised that Cris answered with a more guarded tone.

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve got a problem,” Ryōma said. “More than one, actually.”

“Ryōma? What’s going on?”

“Abby made a surprising new enemy today, my car’s toast, now we’re stuck on foot running from the cops who forgot we fucking own them, and the goddamn Irish mob’s back in town. That’s what.” He drew a breath. “She got us a picture of the fucker, though. I did get that to Mikey before my phone bit the dust.”

Cristiano was silent for a second. “This is worse than we thought.”

“You’re fuckin’ telling me. I could use a ride, and some backup. None of which will be here before Silva’s boys.” Saying it out loud made it a little too real for Ryōma’s liking. It’d been a damn long time since he’d been in a situation this sticky.

Cris’s voice was tight and firm when he spoke again. “Tell me your direction and keep moving as best you can. We’ll find you. Just stay the fuck alive, brother.”

Ryōma exhaled harshly and gave him an approximation of where they were, and which way he hoped they’d go. “There’s no use calling in a team, I just saw the first flashing lights cut by. This one’s gonna be a headache.”

“Then it’s a good thing this one was defendable. Now get out of there.”

Ryōma disconnected and shoved the phone into a pocket. Cris was right, they needed to keep moving, even if it hurt. He curled his fingers over Abby’s hip, absently wondering if they’d ever get the chance to do normal couple things—and why he suddenly wanted to. “Come on, baby girl, we can’t linger here.”

She flattened her palm on his chest, leaning into him with her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. “All my life,” she whispered, “I only ever wanted to see the right thing being done. To be part of making that happen.”

Ryōma frowned. “What’re you talking about?”

Abby sucked in a breath and her fingers dug into his shirt, her short nails scraping his chest through the fabric. She lifted her head just enough to reveal tears brimming her beautiful eyes.

They really needed to be moving, but whatever she’d decided to say, it was obviously important. Ryōma couldn’t bring himself to shut that down. He wouldn’t.