* * *
They waited for Siobhan around the back of the building. Bruno and Wallace stood nearby, and the limousine driver leaned against the car, waiting to let them in. Mia stood close to Shane, ostensibly to soak up his body heat, but knowing it was more than that. He drew her like the clichéd moth to the flame. Whenever he was near, she couldn’t seem to stay out of touching distance.
It was the same for him, she observed. Experimenting, she stepped away from him for a moment, pretending to eye a poster for the ballet’s next show launching in a few weeks. In less than a minute, he had followed her with his body, his hand on her hip, even as he remained facing Cormac and talking to his friend. He seemed unaware of the unconscious pull between them.
Confused and conflicted, she stood there searching for a solution to the unexpected problem of her hunger, attraction, and desire for the man who had kidnapped her. It was a relief to see Siobhan bounding toward them. She wore a sweatshirt and legwarmers over her tights. The pointe shoes were gone, replaced by high-end sneakers.
She waved at them and her red scarf flapped in the breeze. Because of its color, it took Mia a moment to comprehend what was happening when the other woman suddenly stopped and jerked backward, grabbing hold of her neck. It was only when she pulled her hand away, covered with blood, that she realized Siobhan was injured in some way.
Shane pushed her down to the ground and started to run toward his sister. Cormac was already en route, and she grasped the back of his jacket, dragging him closer in her fear. “What’s going on, Shane?”
He turned back to her, looking impatient, but that expression changed to one of shock before morphing to agony. With a small grunt, he collapsed to the ground.
Mia scuttled over to him, leaning over Shane. Her hands traveled over his body of their own accord as her gaze fastened on the bloodstain blossoming through the hole in his jacket and soft cashmere sweater. She bunched handfuls of the material without thought, bending over him. “Shane? Are you dead?”
He grunted, which might have been an aborted laugh or a sound of pain. His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.
She issued a sound of protest when Bruno physically lifted her out of the way, handing her off to Wallace as he knelt over his boss. She looked at the other man. “What happened?”
“They were shot.” He waved down the street. “I put in a call for our guys to try to catch that car, but I don’t know if they can.”
“Shot?” She shook her head, wanting to deny his assertion, even as her gaze went to Shane’s barely moving form. Looking at Siobhan, she saw the woman sitting up against Cormac, who held his handkerchief pressed to her neck. Blood had soaked the linen, but she didn’t seem seriously injured. “Who?” Even as she asked, she knew the answer Wallace would give.
“Peretti. The boss has gone after his markets heavily this week.” Wallace scowled. “All this because of pussy.” His sneer in her direction broadcasted his opinion. “You must be an incredible piece of ass, honey.”
“Fuck you.” Without waiting for his permission, she walked away from him. Mia pressed her back against the wall of the building, tuning out the milling crowd as her gaze focused on Shane. The sound of sirens in the background seemed closer, and she hoped they would make it in time to save him.
If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have been in danger. Mia knew that was an irrational thought. If Shane hadn’t taken her, this wouldn’t have happened, either. He was equally to blame, if not more so. Aldo was the one most to blame for the violence, and she knew he would have taken her eventually, whenever he got tired of playing whatever waiting game in which he had been engaged.
Shane jerked suddenly, and she stood upright. Mia’s first impulse was to run to him. That same irresistible pull seemed to be drawing her forward. She needed him. Needed to be with him. Needed to reassure herself he was alive and would be safe.
She froze after two steps, her self-preservation kicking in. If she gave in to the compulsion to join him, she’d never get away. Mia sensed her entire future hinged on the next few seconds. If she chose Shane, she was choosing him forever. That thought terrified her, and she denied the rush of emotion rising in her chest. She didn’t feel…something she refused to label…for the man who had taken her captive. No amount of great sex could compensate for him stealing her freedom and taking her virginity so roughly.
Now was her chance to escape. She could flee Shane and her stepbrother. All she had to do was slip away in this burgeoning crowd. Mia had enough money saved to finance a bus ticket out of town and would be able to start over somewhere far away.
Somewhere safe.
Somewhere without Shane.
That idea should have made her feel better but instead it left her feeling depressed. It was the shocking realization of how much she would miss Shane that sent her running in the opposite direction of where he lay. She couldn’t just give in and allow herself to love him. He was dangerous, borderline crazy, and determined to have her at any cost.
Just surrendering to her fate and accepting her role as his lover would be akin to endorsing his methods. She couldn’t blithely accept what he’d done or take her role as mafia boss’s consort in stride. Mia owed it to herself to get away from his sphere of influence, to regain her equilibrium and sense of self, and recover from Shane. Surviving Shane was one thing. Embracing him was something she couldn’t do without betraying everything she believed in and everything she was.
13
Mia looked at the bus schedule again, though she had the thing memorized by now, having stared at it so much the past two days. If she left the seedy motel right now, she could be on a bus bound for Atlanta in forty minutes. Dallas in seventy minutes. Detroit in eighty-five minutes.
The destination didn’t matter, as long as it was far away from here. So why hadn’t she grabbed the backpack stuffed full of a few essentials she’d taken, along with the roll of money hidden in the air conditioner vent from her apartment the night she’d fled the scene of the shooting? Why wasn’t she on her way to the bus station? Why hadn’t she already gone and started her journey away from Aldo and Shane?
Just thinking his name made her breath hitch in her throat and sent a pang through her chest. She hadn’t allowed herself to call again, but she’d spoken with his sister that first night, after he’d been shot, and learned he would probably survive. When Siobhan had asked her if she loved him, Mia had let a truthful answer slip through her lips before she could talk herself out of doing so.
“Yes.”
That simple, one-word response was the very reason she couldn’t make herself leave this shithole motel and get on a bus to somewhere else. Knowing she shouldn’t feel that way didn’t stop her from loving him, as fucked up as that was. She couldn’t seem to make herself leave, to just walk away, with that emotional burden weighing her down.
Fuck him. She hated him almost as much as she loved him right then. She hadn’t asked for his attention. He’d dragged her kicking and screaming into his life, forced his attentions on her, and then had the fucking gall to make her fall in love with him.
Mia slammed her hand against the scarred wooden table, using the pain to focus. She had to leave. Staying was unhealthy. Even more, it put her at risk of discovery by Aldo, which would be far worse than Shane finding her again. All she had to do was put some distance between herself and Shane, regain some perspective, and forget about this horrible chapter of her life.
