CHAPTER 11.
"I'm not claiming her, punk. She just wouldn't tell us about Vlad. And I was trying to get the information out of her."
"Well, guess what? You don't have to go through the trouble anymore. I'm taking it from here. Get the fuck out!" Ghost pointed at the door.
"Wait till I tell the boss about this. Punk!" Sergio spat out a bit of blood, before leaving the room, slamming the door so hard it shook in its hinges.
"What the fuck have I done?" Ghost mumbled breathlessly as silence fell in the room. Did he just fight his own men over some strange girl?
Like on cue, her low whimpering filled the room and he was reminded of her presence. He rushed to her, untying her from the chair.
He took off his jacket and covered her bloodied body with it. Squatting in front of her was the only way he could clearly see her face. His heart stung at how messed up she looked. Her lips were chapped and swollen. But he could swear it was the prettiest lips he's ever seen. Kissing her would be worth every bit of the stress.
"Hey," He said softly, patting her cheek. Her eyes barely opened and then they shone in what he thought was recognition.
"Jason?" She was barely audible but he heard her. Her weak fingers trailed his face and she managed a small smile. "Is it really you?"
Again, he was mistaken for someone else. And it was beginning to feel more than just a coincidence.
First, it was the werewolf at the nightclub, and now, the damsel in distress. What the hell was going on?
"Who the fuck is Jason?" He sounded more calm than irritated. She tried saying something else but collapsed in his arms instead.
He scooped her up and headed out of the room. There was no way he was leaving her in the claws of that bastard, Viper, and his minions.
*
The alarm went off at 8 am, forcing Ghost out of his little nap. He opened his eyes groggily, sitting up on the couch. His gaze first hit the figure on the bed.
She seemed at peace and was snoring softly. Her bruises had been cleaned immediately after he brought her in last night.
With a sigh, Ghost rubbed at his heavy eyes, as memories of last night clouded his mind.
Leaving the hideout with her in his arms had stirred up quite a commotion. The men wouldn't stop whispering. He couldn't care less. But he had to admit his actions were crazy and against the rules.
When he drove into the street, he had a hard time deciding where to take her. She was weak and needed a doctor, but the hospital wasn't an option. Sergio would find her there and just might kill her off out of spite.
All the hotels and motels in the city were operated by the Cariannos. If he takes her to any, they could easily come for her. Or spy on him or something. He just needed her away from the spiteful eyes, just until he figured out who she was and why she was messing with his head.
At dawn, he drove into the driveway of his apartment with her in the back seat. It was the hardest decision he'd ever made. And right now, he was beginning to regret it.
Ever since he came to Sicily, he has lived like a shadow. Though a part of the Carianno family, he still loved to keep his shit private. His apartment was off-limits to everyone, including Don Carianno. But here she was, in his apartment, in his bedroom, on his bed. So much for keeping his stuff private!
When he dropped her off at the hideout last night, he'd imagined their next meeting a whole lot different from this. A whole fucking different. And he never thought it would be this soon.
The sun's rays hit her face, giving it a gleam that hitched his breath. Dressed in just his shirt, she looked like a lovely, little snack. But she still needed to see a doctor. And he had to get her one.
Just as he was gonna leave the room, the scent hit him again. It was stronger now, almost stealing his restraint and pushing him to go claim her.
What the heck was this scent? What was this crazy force whenever she was near?
"This is insane." Ghost muttered, leaving the room with brisk steps. He walked into the kitchen and went to grab a can of beer from the refrigerator.
He drank from it just the same time as he texted Scar the address to his apartment. There was no more keeping it a secret. He needed him here to help deal with the mess he got into.
"Get me a doctor too." He ended the text and sent it. He tossed the phone on the table but it pinged immediately and he reached for it.
"Why? Are you hurt?" It was the reply to his text.
He typed. "No. I'll tell you all about it when you get here. Just get me a fucking doctor." Then he sent it.
It seemed the gist of his actions last night was yet to get to Scar. He wouldn't ask these questions if he had an idea. He'd gotten a million phone calls from Don Carrianno since last night and he ignored them all.
It was obvious Sergio already told him what went down between them. And knowing Don Carianno too well, he was calling for a logical explanation for his mad actions.
The sad reality was that he had no explanations for them. That's why he didn't take the calls. Nothing he would say could excuse beating up his men and whisking away their prisoner. There was no logical explanation for that, except that he just lost his fucking mind.
Another sip from his beer and the scent clogged his nostrils. This time, it irritated the fuck out of him. Why the fuck was the scent following him around?
He felt a presence and his head snapped up. He was shocked to see her standing at the door. His duvet was around her and her hair was a tangled mess. Her bruises were gone too.
He blinked at that. Was the beer fucking with his sight or was she really without the bruises?
His gaze ran down to her body and just like her face, her skin was smooth. No trace of the bruises. She seemed fine. More than that, to be honest. What the actual fuck was going on?
With no heads-up, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms. Her arms went around his neck and her face was buried in his chest.
"I'm so glad you're alive, Jason. And I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. For everything." She sobbed.
Ghost was static. He couldn't move. Her emotional confessions were not for him because he wasn't Jason. But they stirred up something inside his cold heart. A certain warmness.
For a brief second, he felt weak and vulnerable to her. But in the next minute, he pushed her off him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"