The Scent of Roses: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Romeo Book 2) Page 8

  My jaw throbbed. My lungs felt raw from clawing for air. Stars sparkled in front of my vision. I was losing consciousness. At least I would not be awake while they took turns violating me.

  Suddenly his forearm was gone. I sucked in air into my burning lungs. He was gone. He’d been pulled off me by a third man, his wide frame encased in a black Everclear hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and dark jeans. Everclear smashed his fist in Bloody Nose’s face as he roared. “Nobody touches her, you son of a bitch.”

  The familiar voice sank into my bones and hit me in my gut.

  Roman?

  Relief flooded my body. I had never been so damn happy to see anybody before.

  I heard the crack of bones and Bloody Nose went limp. He fell to the ground, lifeless.

  The man holding my arms down let go of me, fumbling for the gun in the back of his pants as Roman charged towards him, knocking him off his feet. They tumbled to the ground. Roman pinned my attacker down. He smashed his fist into Gun Man’s face and ribs, the sound of hard flesh against wet bloody flesh and the crack of bones filled the air. All of Roman’s calm, cold facade had gone. The leash he kept on this part of himself had been unchained. Dear God, he wasn’t going to stop.

  I rolled to my feet, wincing at my bruises, and ran over to him. “Stop it, Roman, you’re going to kill him.” I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back. It was like trying to yank back an oak branch.

  He whipped around to me and leapt to his feet, leaving the man a bloodied mess on the ground. Roman’s hoodie fell around his neck so I could see his face now, thick lips pulled back, teeth bared, eyes wild, flecks of blood splattered across his sharp cheekbones. “They were going to rape you.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m fine. Just a bruise or two.”

  His wild aggressiveness should scare me. His ability for violence should have me scurrying back. For some stupid reason I wanted to lean closer, mesmerized by the heaving of his thick chest and the way his clenched fists were making his forearm muscles stand out in brutal definition.

  Roman stepped right up to me and cupped my cheek. His touch was gentle yet firm, the warmth sending a shiver up my spine. I could smell his familiar cedar cologne mixed in with masculine sweat. He tilted up my head to inspect the damage to my jaw. “The fucker,” he muttered under his breath. “I could kill him.”

  I bit my lip, hoping he was joking. For Roman to kill a man because he hurt me was wrong. Some part of me, some sick deep-down part of me, was giddy at the idea.

  “I’m fine, Roman. Really.” I reached up to grab his thick damp fingers so I could pull his hand off my chin. To my surprise he didn’t let go of my hand. His fingers laced into mine. We stood facing each other, fingers entwined as if we were standing at my doorstep after a date. Holy shit. I was standing in the middle of an alleyway holding Roman Tyrell’s hand. What alternative universe had I just stepped into?

  “They were going to rape you, kidnap you, do God knows what else to you,” he said, as if that justified everything.

  I squeezed his fingers, so warm and strong. “But they didn’t. Because you were here.”

  Roman’s shoulders relaxed and his scowl turned into a smirk. “You can reward me for saving you later.” He kneeled beside the bloody, unconscious man on the ground and began to search his pockets.

  The adrenaline of earlier began to wear off and the logical side of my brain began returning to me. Something very obvious finally struck me. “Wait a minute.” I frowned. “How did you happen to be here?”

  He paused, just for a second. “I was just walking past.”

  “You just happened to be walking past an area two blocks from my apartment?”

  He flashed me a grin. There was not a shred of embarrassment on his face. “What can I say, I like the area.”

  “Bullshit.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Were you following me?”

  He snorted. “I just saved you from being raped, kidnapped, and probably murdered. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”

  I flinched. He was right. The horrifying possibilities flashed before my eyes. I shuddered. “Thank you.”

  Roman straightened and stepped right up to me, toe to toe. I could smell his intoxicating cologne again wafting around him like incense. It took all my willpower not to lean in closer. He tapped my nose with his finger. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Before I could answer he waved something in my face. “Found it.”

  I stared at the battered black wallet in his hand. “A wallet?”

  And P.S. how the hell did he manage to change the subject so quickly?

  “Not just a wallet.” He opened it, pulled out a set of cards, then handed me a driver’s license. It had a picture of the man who was currently at our feet. “Eduardo Sanchez,” Roman said, tapping a finger at his photograph. “I don’t recognize him. Do you?”

  My attacker stared out of the photo at me with a scowl on his face. He had thick dark stubble across a beefy chin and a set of dark eyes glaring out from under caterpillar brows. He radiated the kind of bitter anger of a man who’d not been dealt a fair hand by life. I had barely seen his features while he’d been attacking me; it all happened too fast and it was too dark, now his features were covered in blood. If Roman hadn’t thought to search for a wallet, I’d have no idea what he looked like. Some witness I would have made.

  I wracked my brain for any flickers of recognition; perhaps a perp I’d arrested before or someone I’d seen walking the streets lately? He must have been following me for a while looking for an opportunity to jump me. I came up empty. I shook my head as I handed Roman back the card. “What do we do now?”

  Roman shoved the wallet in his back pocket and turned to the unmoving body on the ground. “We go find out who this fucker is working for.”

  With incredible strength, Roman lifted the deadweight of Eduardo Sanchez and tossed him over his shoulder, his arm muscles flexing with effort. Damn, he was strong. Incredibly strong.

  “Come with me,” Roman commanded me from over his shoulder, his voice hard, allowing for no argument.

  “What about the other guy?” I glanced over to the first attacker. I could see his neck was bent at an unnatural angle, his eyes open and staring at nothing. He’s dead. I paused, waiting for the shock to hit me.

  I felt nothing. I should be feeling upset or something. Roman had murdered him. In front of me.

  No, not murdered. Defended you. He defended you from being raped.

  Roman sidled up beside me. He was quiet for a second. “You okay?”

  Yes. No. I don’t know.

  “Fine,” I said, my voice wooden.

  “I’ll take care of him later,” Roman said.

  “But—”

  “Jules, we gotta get out of here. There may be more of them.”

  Right. I didn’t think about that. I glanced around, trying to peer into the shadows, the hairs on my arm standing on end.

  “Stay close.” Roman strode towards the end of the alley, Eduardo slung over his shoulder.

  Still half stunned, I kept up wordlessly alongside him, my eyes darting around for any signs that we were going to be attacked again. The alleyway seemed to hiss, growl and leak around us like a creature that was waiting for a chance to devour us.

  Roman stopped at the back of a black Mercedes parked on the side of the dark street. One measly streetlight was left working, a sickly light drifting around the lamp like smoke. This was Verona. Certain areas—the good areas—wanted for nothing; they had wide sidewalks, manicured parks and maintained streets. But the inner city—the parts filled with everyday people, the ones whose voices couldn’t yell loud enough to reach the ears of those in ivory towers, the ones who kept the city running like overworked cogs in an insatiable machine—lay forgotten and crumbling away. I wanted to grind my teeth at the injustice of it. It was one of the reasons I loved being a cop, to give those who “didn’t matter” a voice.

  “You’re going to have to get my keys out of my p
ocket for me,” Roman said.

  My gaze dropped to the pockets of his fitted jeans, then back up to his face. I frowned. Was this a trick?

  “If you haven’t noticed, my hands are full.” Roman flashed me a grin.

  I sighed. “Which one?”

  “Left.”

  I sidled up beside him and slid my hand into his pocket.

  “A little further in. Yeah, deeper. That’s it.”

  My fingers brushed against something firm that was definitely not keys. Oh shit! I snatched my hand back. How the hell could he be semi-hard at a time like this?

  Roman didn’t look embarrassed at all. He merely smirked at me. “Oops. I mean the other left pocket.”

  I scowled at him. “You did that on purpose.”

  “I won’t deny it if you don’t deny you enjoyed it.”

  “I did not,” I spluttered, my cheeks flaming.

  “Can you get the keys? You’re wasting time.” He shifted his right hip toward me and wiggled it. Goddamn him. With all the caution of someone feeding a snake down a hole, I slid my hand into his right pocket, my lips pinched as I glared at him. My fingers brushed against keys but I only managed to push them in further. I gritted my teeth and pushed my fingers in deeper, grasping for the keys while trying not to touch his obvious arousal again.

  Roman let out a small groan. “If you keep that up, I’m going to drop him and grab you instead.”

  My cheeks colored. I snatched the keys out—finally—and let out a breath.

  “Pop the trunk.”

  I blinked at Roman. “What?”

  “The trunk. Pop it.”

  “Why?”

  Roman let out a grunt. “Are you going to argue with me every damn step of the way? Just do it before I drop him. The fucker’s getting heavy.”

  I opened the trunk. Roman dropped the man’s unconscious body into the trunk like a bag of potatoes. He slammed the lid down.

  “What the hell?” I glanced around on the street to see if anyone had seen him dump the body in the car. No one was around. Or if they were, they wouldn’t “remember” anything. I knew from experience that most people preferred not to get involved. Too many witnesses had a history of disappearing. That was probably why nobody came to help when I started yelling.

  Roman snatched the keys from me. “I don’t want him waking up while I’m driving and causing trouble.”

  Roman was right. Shoving him in the back seat would cause unnecessary risk to us. I didn’t have any cuffs on me. It was the best way to secure him while we took him to the police station to interrogate him.

  The car beeped unlocked, making me flinch. I was so jumpy. I steadied my breath and wiped my clammy hands on my skirt. I knew all the physical things that victims went through after an attack: heightened reactions to noises, paranoia, weakened heart rate, cold hands, sweating, rapid breathing. This was the first time I’d ever experienced it myself. I now had a new level of empathy for all the victims I’d ever interviewed.

  Roman must have noticed because one of his hands slid onto my arm. “You okay?”

  Why did he have to notice everything? I nodded, my throat deciding to knot. “Fine.”

  He stared at me for a second. “If you’re going to freak out, I’d like some advanced warning.”

  “I said I’m fine,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  He stared at me for a beat. Then nodded. “Okay.”

  He walked around to get into the driver’s seat, leaving me rooted where I stood, half confused, half in shock. The car rumbled to life and the window of the passenger seat rolled down. Roman leaned across the seat so I could see his face through the window. “Get in,” he commanded.

  Me, alone in a car with Roman Tyrell. The last time he and I were alone together… The car looked too small for the two of us.

  “I can follow you in my car.”

  “You’re two seconds away from going into shock. I’m not letting you drive anywhere.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He stared at me through thick dark lashes. “Are you scared of being alone with me?”

  “No,” I said, just a little too quickly.

  “Then get in.” His eyebrow lifted. “Don’t make me do this the hard way.”

  This was a bad idea. I pursed my lips and glanced around again to see if anyone was looking before sliding into the car. As soon as I shut the door, the locks activated and the window rolled up, trapping us in together. Great, locked in a car with a body in the trunk and a possible psychopath in the driver’s seat. What could possibly go wrong?

  Roman tugged the attacker’s gun from the back of his pants and leaned over, practically in my lap, his mouth inches from mine. I pressed back into the seat, trying to get some distance. “What are you doing?”

  “Relax, Jules,” Roman said, his voice taking on an added caramel texture. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was trying to be seductive. He popped open the glove box and deposited the gun into it. “I took the bullets out already.” He gave me a wicked look, his gaze dropping to my mouth before dragging back up to pin me with his dark stare. “Just in case you felt trigger happy.”

  I rolled my eyes. And tried desperately to remember how to breathe properly.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he straightened back up. I relaxed into the passenger seat and shut my eyes, letting my heart return to a normal pace. I felt us pull away from the curb and let the soft turns of the car rock me into a calmer state.

  I would never admit it, least of all to him, but I was glad to have Roman here telling me what to do in his infuriatingly overly confident, bossy tone. It’s what I needed right now. My mind was too rattled to think properly. With him here I knew I would be taken care of. I was…safe.

  Oh my God. I felt safe with Roman. Completely safe. That was ridiculous. He was a violent criminal gangster, for Christ’s sake.

  Despite all attempts of my mind to convince me otherwise, I just knew Roman wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. He saved my life.

  Because he was stalking you, Julianna.

  Not stalking. Watching. Looking out for me.

  Twist it any way you want, it’s still stalking. This should terrify me. Instead, this thought sent an illicit thrill through my body. Roman Tyrell watched out for me even though he shouldn’t. Like my own dark guardian angel. He cared about me even though he shouldn’t. Just like I cared for him.

  I opened my eyes a crack and looked over at him. My stomach fluttered like a fan every time I caught flashes of his chiseled profile when we passed underneath a streetlight. He really was breathtakingly beautiful. And totally occupied with driving. I took this opportunity to roll my gaze over the rest of him. Rounded shoulders, firm chest, thick torso, hard bulge…hard bulge? No, wait. That was the bulge of a gun in his hip holster.

  “Like what you see down there?” Roman asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Dammit. Of course he’d noticed me staring.

  I tore my eyes away, my cheeks heating. “I was looking at your gun.”

  “Sure you were.”

  “You didn’t use it earlier.” Way to state the obvious, Julianna.

  The skin around his mouth tightened. “I only use it when I need to. I didn’t need to with them.” In other words, he was such a badass he didn’t need a gun against two armed attackers.

  “Do you have a permit for it?” I blurted out.

  Roman let out a long laugh. “Jules, we have a man locked in the back of my trunk. Are you really concerned if I have a permit for my gun?”

  Point taken. I sank back into my seat. I frowned as I glanced back to his piece. I couldn’t see it well because of the dim light, but I guessed it was a Glock .40 or something similar. Nice choice of weapon. A random question appeared in my mind.

  “You look like you want to ask something,” he said. Observant bastard.

  “Do you Mafia guys name your weapons?”

  He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, eyebrow raised, a smirk playing at his lip
s. “Only if the weapon is really, really special.”

  “Did you name this one?”

  He looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Jules, I only have one weapon that deserves naming. And from what ladies have said when they’ve seen it, I’d have to call it ‘Holy Shit, That’s So Big’.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You roll your eyes a lot at me.”

  “You warrant it every time.”

  “One day the wind’s gonna change mid eye-roll, then what’ll you do?”

  I rolled my eyes again just to prove a point.

  He hummed. “It might be an improvement.”

  I sent a punch into the side of his arm.

  “Ow. You know, you’re a very violent person. Are you sure you’re not the one with Tyrell blood in their veins?” He asked this lightly but I could tell underneath was a hint of bitterness.

  “Very funny. My violent tendencies only seem to come out around you.”

  “Those aren’t the only tendencies I bring out in you.” His insinuation wasn’t lost on me. The way his eyes flashed dark and hungry wasn’t lost on me either.

  I turned my head to stare out through the window. Roman turned off into an industrial estate. I pinpointed where we were on the map of Verona I had in my head and frowned. “This isn’t the way to the station.”

  “We’re not going to the Police.” He said the word Police like it was a bad smell.

  I sat up in my seat, a rash of fear prickling my skin. “Stop the car.”

  “No.”

  I grabbed at the door handle but it wouldn’t open. He must have put the child lock on. Dammit. “Stop the damn car.”

  Roman cursed under his breath. “Stop trying to get out.”

  “Where are you’re taking me?”

  He glared at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you want to know who’s trying to kidnap you? Do you want to know why?”