Shielded Wrongs (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 4)

"You can't touch her, Rafe," I warned. "Matteo won't tolerate it, and we both know she's young. Too young for the way you looked at her."

He was silent as he climbed into the passenger side of the SUV, staring at the restaurant as I drove back toward the club. The shrill ring of his phone filled the silence, and he answered the call. "Yeah? Got it." He ended the call and looked at me, repeating what he’d learned. "They found your Sadie. A block away from Indulgence in a coffee shop eating a scone. They have eyes on her, but Matteo told Calix you'd want to deal with her yourself." I heaved out a sigh of relief.

She was alive. She was safe.

That should have been what mattered, but I'd spank her ass for putting herself at risk that way. Sadie wasn't naïve. She understood the danger. She was just too desperate for a moment of freedom to care enough to exercise caution.

"Please tell me you understand that you can't take that girl, Rafe," I murmured, watching his jaw harden.

"Do you often tell one another not to claim your women? Why is it you think I will tolerate your interference?" he asked, danger glinting in his expression as he turned his face to mine. I recognized the look for what it was: the complete primal need to claim what belonged to him in his mind and a warning to back off that I’d need to heed if I knew what was good for me.

"It's different. She's too young."

"I'll discuss it with Matteo, and we'll work out an arrangement. I've no interest in rape, Enzo. Particularly raping a girl who has not yet become a woman. But we monsters can be patient, can we not?" he asked. His eyebrow raised, daring me to deny the truth.

Matteo waited twelve years. Ryker waited four. Lino waited close to a lifetime.

How long would Rafael Ibarra wait to take the woman he saw as his?

I didn't suspect it would be long, given the way he stared at his phone and waited for updates from his man.

"Isa," he said finally after his phone dinged with a text. "Her friend calls her Isa."

Rage and relief battled inside of me at the sight of Sadie sitting inside the cafe. She was absolutely aware of the eyes on her as one of the guys watched her from across the shop, but she never moved to so much as stand. She wasn't stupid enough to think she could evade us for long. What she'd done had been done knowing that her freedom would be temporary.

I tried to muster up a trace of sympathy for whatever must have been warring inside her to make her do something so drastic for such little return. But all I could remember was the feeling of blind fear that pulsed through me with every second that I spent questioning if Murphy's men had found her yet.

I couldn't fault her entirely. She'd stayed close enough to Indulgence where, even on his bravest of days, Murphy would never wander near. She'd known the location offered her safety. I had to appreciate that even while she rebelled against me and my place in her life; she did it as safely as possible.

Much like when Samara had called Yavin when she needed a break and it wasn't safe, Sadie exercised her freedom in a way that wasn't entirely oblivious to the danger breathing down her neck. Given her arguments that she could take care of herself, it surprised me she would exercise such caution.

Her eyes met mine as I stormed inside. Standing in the doorway, I didn't close the distance between us. I couldn't trust myself to touch her with the way need and fury consumed me. Apparently, fucking her hadn't been enough to show her where she belonged.

I'd have to remind her.

She stood, tossing her coffee cup into the trash as she closed the distance between us, and Rebel followed on her heels, looking sheepish where her human didn’t bother. Sadie didn’t speak a word as she stepped into the cool Chicago air. She turned back toward the club, ignoring me as Rebel and I trailed behind her. The employees looked at us in shock as she made her way up to my office with a self-indulgent smile on her face.

It wasn't until I closed the door behind me and sealed us inside my office that my breath caught in my lungs and pulled my chest tight. She bent down to pet Rebel quickly as the dog curled up next to my desk, before she stood and made for the couch on the other side of the office.

"I think we need to have a talk," I said when she picked up a bike magazine off the small table in front of her, where some of the guys hung out when I was feeling generous.

She dropped it with a sigh, leaning back into the cushions and staring at me. "Look Enzo, we both know that I am always going to do exactly what I want to do. You or your shitty substitutes won't stop me."

"You put yourself at risk!" I shouted, staring her down with my hands on my hips as my heart pounded in my chest. Blood roared in my veins with the need to convince her of how foolish it had been. "For what?"

"Freedom! Something I doubt you know much about, since apparently the cock and balls swinging between your legs mean you're magically able to protect yourself and me."

Tugging the Glock from my holster, I slammed it down onto the coffee table and leaned toward her. "That is why I can magically protect us. I find it hard to believe that you carry a pistol in your booty shorts and sports bra while you prance around the gym and preen for any fucking asshole who wants to stare at your ass."

She drew in a huff of disbelieving breath, leaning into my space until her face nearly touched mine. "Jealous much, Lorenzo?" she taunted, a smile gracing those lips that I wanted to own. That I wanted to consume for myself and make sure that nobody else ever so much as looked at again. Slipping her fingers under my hand, she drew the Glock away from my grip. I allowed it, despite the uncertainty that I felt over her touching a loaded weapon. Accidents with guns were too quick, and even I couldn't protect her from her own recklessness. "Easy," I soothed her, worry filling me as her small hand wrapped around the gun that was too big for her. But she managed just fine, letting her pointer finger caress the trigger like something out of a wet dream.

She raised it, and something in the motion was more familiar than I'd have expected. She was comfortable with the gun in her hand, the feeling of the cool metal against her skin.

"I dated a cop once, you know," she admitted, and even the vague reference of another man who'd been inside her made me murderous all over again. Her other hand pressed the magazine ejector, setting the magazine itself onto the table with a thump. She racked the slide back, glancing into the chamber, and inspected it with her finger to be sure it wasn't loaded. Then she racked it back five times in a row to be safe, and my dick twitched in my pants. She smirked as she removed the slide, pulling out the spring and the barrel in rapid succession. "So give me a gun to protect myself, and I'll be on my way." She set the frame on the table finally, getting back into my face one last time with arrogance dancing in her eyes.

The tip of my nose touched hers briefly as I leaned in, bringing my hand up to grab her around the back of her head. My lips brushed against hers, a subtle reminder of the chemistry between us as I spoke. "You'd shoot me with it."

The soft skin of her mouth against mine felt like the sweetest caress as it tipped into a smile. She didn't deny the truth in my statement, just kept her honey eyes trained on mine bravely. Like I wasn't a murderer who could kill her with the hand so close to her neck, like I was more than just a ruthless mercenary who could easily snap her neck before she could blink.