Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Six Fingers Later

**ROMANY**

A pitch black Tahoe was waiting on the edge of the runway when we landed. It was obvious the vehicle was waiting for us, because the moment the ladder went down and the hatch opened, a familiar pinched face and ugly mug jumped out of the driver's seat to open the doors.

*I remember that guy. He's that ugly dude that was at the house the first time that I met Tiny.*

*Bruno. I think...*

Simone and I giggled as we ran across the runway barefoot like a couple of schoolgirls. Then, the wind from the terminal caught on our robes and peeled them away from our bodies. It happened so quickly that neither of us had time to stop it. I'm sure an entire line of passengers inside the airport had to have seen us. Oddly enough, I didn't feel embarrassed. I felt sexy and intriguing. Almost as if I could hear the thoughts of the people behind the glass as they watched and wondered who we could possibly be.

*Were we movie stars, perhaps? Or were we just a couple of rich, spoiled women that couldn't even be bothered to get dressed before taking a plane ride?*

It was an exciting feeling - thinking we were the objects of a tiny public mystery. Well, I mean, I don't really know what Simone was feeling, but I imagine it had to be nearly the same thing. Once we reached the Tahoe, Tiny leapt in the front passenger seat, Simone sat in the single behind the driver, and Mickey ushered me onto the back bench with him.

The moment all the doors closed, the space fell dim and intimate. Mickey's arm slid over the back of the headrest behind me and I smiled to myself. Casting my eyes in his direction, I took my time admiring the strong set of his jawline as it flexed in the darkness. Even though it seemed he was refusing to look at me, still, he held me in the protective circle of his embrace. His biceps flexed against the back of my neck with every turn in the road and his fingers played with the silver strands of my hair, almost absently.

Watching him as we slid through the streets of his town, I noticed something. Everytime we hit a corner, or stopped at a light, his eyes were in motion. Scanning the terrain and everything else around us with the type of hyper-vigilance I imagine comes from years of living in danger. He had a way of surveying the area around him, of catching on things that may have seemed out of place or suspicious. Each time we stopped at an intersection, I felt him draw my body in closer, and I knew without a doubt that if something *did* happen, he would protect me with his life.

guard, Gerald, tried to rape me in the storage room. He was sexy as

drifts over the perfectly cut heart of his lips. I know he's upset with me, but

a mile from my front gates," he said quietly, without looking at me. "So you can stop

focused on him. "No. Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I like the way you look when

of his, just between his legs is what I hone in on next, and the

of tall iron doors, I finally look away from him to examine the grounds. There aren't any trees behind his gate, like there are at Alex's. Just grass. Lots and lots of well manicured grass and a few even spaced planters, housing what looks like rows of tulips. The wall around the estate is tall,

nearly as big. For some reason, that pleases me,

scoffed. "What about me? What will I

looked away

still mad

**ALEX**

and full confession. Holding it under the light as the bitch of a man behind me cries and whimpers and complains that he is going into shock, I snap a couple of pictures of it to read later. But as I go to hand the page to Damien, I see something in the writing that catches my eye. The words *forced her* make up thirty five percent of

reads: *I locked her in my office and forced her to have sex with me, although she was

why* reading that bothered me so much. I can't *explain* what suddenly came over me in that moment, but I felt myself begin to lose it. My body started burning up, anger causing me to pant for breath. My eyes settled on the seven different blades lined up on the table and before I

was crying. "I need a doctor please! I want my fingers sewn back on! I'm losing too much

asked," I acknowledged, placing the letter on the table and ignoring Damien's wary gaze. "Thank