On The Ropes (Tapped Out 3)

She marched over to the passenger door and pulled it open. “I’m only going with you because I’m already here. But if you don’t get your ass off the ground in thirty seconds, I’m hoofing it back to the subway. I have better shit to do than listen to you whine all night.” The door clicked shut after her.

I sat up and grinned.

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It took another minute for me to drag my ass to my feet and make it into the driver’s side of the truck. The sensation between my legs was unpleasant, to say the least.

It was probably a good thing my balls wouldn’t be called into service tonight, because they were far from operational.

Carly didn’t speak on the way home. As I pulled up to the curb in front of her building, I held out a hand to stop her from exiting immediately. I didn’t touch her. I’d gotten that message loud and clear.

“Tomorrow night, I’m going to be there to take you home. I won’t lay a finger on you, won’t even say hello. But I need to do that much. Please.” I hadn’t used that word in too many years to count. I never begged, for anything.

I would beg for the privilege of keeping her safe. It was the one thing I could do for her.

For myself.

She appeared to think it over. “Okay.” She gripped the handle, hesitating longer than was strictly necessary. “Next time, bring my dog. Unless you threw it out,” she accused, her eyes going squinty like they always did when she was pissed.

For a second, I had no clue what she meant. What dog?

Then I remembered the Dalmatian currently stashed on a chair in the corner of my living room. I’d moved it so I didn’t have to look at it every damn minute of the day and remember how much she loved the stupid thing.

“Of course I didn’t throw it out,” I muttered, strangely affronted. What kind of heartless bastard did she think I was?

The kind you’ve already proven you are.

“Then I want it back. Please.” She bit her lip. “I know it’s technically yours since you played the games, but—”

“It’s yours, tesoro.” The stark pain that flashed over her face clued me in to what I’d said. Dammit, I would never learn. “I’ll bring it.”

I needed her to leave before I did something insane. Like beg her to stay.

“Thanks.” She climbed out and shut the door.

It was a small victory, though I understood I’d lost the war. Lost too damn much.

I drove home and let myself in my apartment, my only thought an ice cold shower and falling into bed. I hadn’t had a fight tonight, had only trained for the bout with Fox next week, but I was exhausted. My limbs were like leaden weights, only still functional from sheer will.

But it only took one step into the apartment for me to realize I wasn’t alone.

I waited, letting my vision adjust to the darkness. Then I considered where the closest weapon was. My .45 was under the coffee table, but there was a fireplace poker right beside the door. I didn’t have a fireplace. The poker was simply another weapon. They surrounded me, but right now, I’d happily use my own fists.

Someone had invaded my apartment. My one private sanctum.

Before I’d taken another step, a man stepped out of the shadows that had made him. Words failed me as my gaze raced over the features that so closely mirrored my own.

“Giovanni, it’s been a long time.” My father’s voice was as pleasant as a cloudless summer day. “I’ve gathered you haven’t missed me.”

I grabbed the poker and scanned for other men out of the corner of my eye. I might not come out unscathed, but I’d go down swinging.

My father chuckled. “Now there’s a hero’s welcome. My boy, you disappoint me.”

“I’m not your boy.”

“No, I suppose you aren’t. What is this?” He picked up Carly’s dog and stroked its cheek, sending a wave of disgust through me. He shouldn’t touch anything of hers. It felt like he was tainting her, even from a distance.

Like he’d tainted me.