Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

11. Delilah

ELEVEN

DELILAH

Vitale escorted me out. The air was thick with the promise of rain, and dark clouds rolled in over the city. The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I pulled my coat tighter against the sudden chill. As we stepped outside, the muffled sounds of the fighting ring faded behind us, replaced by the distant rumble of thunder.

The street was deserted, the usual crowd having dispersed now that the main event was over. I kept my head down, trying to process everything that had happened inside, when I walked past a figure slumped against the wall. My stomach dropped when I recognized the man who’d hit on me.

They’d beaten the shit out of him. Blood matted his hair, his eyes swollen shut. His clothes were torn, and his head lolled to the side. A pang twisted in my gut. This was my fault.

I started toward him, but Vitale’s hand clamped down on my arm.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“He’s hurt. I can’t leave him like this.”

Vitale’s grip tightened. “Yes, you can.”

I gestured at him. “Look at him. He can’t even walk!”

“If you help him, you’ll only make things worse for him and yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ll just get him killed. And if Santino sees you helping that guy, he’ll take it as a betrayal. You can’t afford that.”

I pulled my arm free. “This is so messed up.”

I hesitated, glancing at Drunk Guy. His breathing was shallow, and he looked like he was about to pass out. Another surge of guilt hit me. This was what Santino’s world did to people. I’d signed up for this life to survive, but that meant looking the other way.

The door to the ring slammed open, and Santino stormed out. He stalked over, his jaw clenched as his gaze shifted to the man on the ground.

“What’d he do now?” he demanded.

“Nothing. I was trying to see if I could help.”

Santino glanced at Vitale, who nodded. “So you think you can play the Good Samaritan?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “He’s hurt.”

“He’s not your problem, principessa.”

“Santino, you’re being a prick.”

He stepped closer until he towered over me, waving Vitale aside. “Go. I’ll drive her home.”

Vitale turned around and disappeared inside the building.

My heart hammered. The wind picked up, and the first few drops of rain splattered on the pavement.

“He crossed a line,” Santino said gently. “He disrespected you, and there are consequences for that. But you’re not the one who has to deal with it.”

Drunk Guy had collapsed on the ground. Santino followed my gaze, softening. He reached out, gently taking my hand. Rain pelted my head. Santino shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. Warmth swirled in my stomach as his scent surrounded me. I felt hot and confused.

He nudged me toward his car.

I pulled the jacket off and handed it to Santino. The rain fell harder, soaking through my clothes, but I didn’t care. “I’m not going with you.”

“Why?”

“This isn’t right. You can’t just…do this to people.”

His frown deepened. “That’s how it works in my world.”

“Well, not in mine. You don’t get to decide who gets beaten based on some twisted sense of ownership.”

“This is how things are.”

My mind flashed to the keys he’d given me earlier, the way he’d assumed that I’d fall in line like it was my only option.

“I don’t need you to protect me like this. You can’t keep treating me like I’m some possession.”

Santino’s jaw tightened. “I don’t see you as a possession. I see you as mine.”

“Same difference.”

Rain plastered hair to my face. Santino stood there, his shirt turning translucent from the downpour.

This was supposed to be simple. Money, protection, sex—nothing more. But the look in his eyes was anything but transactional. It was possessive, and that scared the hell out of me. He’d already taken control of my body. What would happen if I let him take my heart?

I gritted my teeth. “We agreed to mess around for a few months, not whatever this is becoming.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, stepping forward.

I stayed silent. I’d built walls for a reason. A nice transactional relationship. No messy emotions. No attachments. No promises that could be broken.

“Tell me. What. This. Is.”

My startled gaze crashed into his. “Friends with benefits.”

He laughed. “I’m not your friend .”

“You’re my boss.”

“I’m not that, either, baby. Try again.”

He approached me until I’d backed against the car.

“You’re…a lover.”

Santino’s laugh was low, almost dangerous, as he leaned in closer, his body shielding me from the rain. “Is that what I am? Just some casual fling?”

“That’s what it’s supposed to be.”

“But it’s not.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. I did feel it—the pull between us—even when I should’ve run the other way. He was right, and we both knew it. This was beyond sex. It had always been consuming. I couldn’t want more. That was the deal I’d made with myself. Letting Santino in was more than I could handle. What if he destroyed me?

My hackles rose. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you need to back the hell off.”

His black stare stabbed into me.

All I could do was hold my own but judging by his complete lack of giving a fuck, there was no turning back. No escaping the darkness coiling around me.

Santino opened the car door. “Get in.”

I stared at him, heart pounding.

“Now,” he snapped.