Catching Fire (The Fire Duet Book 2) Read online

  Vernon pushes my thong down and starts to rub the tip of his shaft against my entrance. For a second, I’m happy he doesn’t just shove it in, only for this to be replaced by an even bigger fear of how close he is to entering my body. Junior lowers his mouth, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

  “Don’t worry, Callie. We will make it unforgettable. Since you’re my sister, we will start easy, but once you’re warmed up, Vernon and I will fill up every hole you have.”

  I whine against his hands, begging to a God I never wished to exist until now. I close my eyes, silently begging for mercy and trying to block everything out, wondering how the fuck I got in to this position in the first place.

  In one push, Vernon roughly enters my dry cunt, and I let out a muffled scream. My brows arch up in anguish when he roughly starts thrusting inside me. I can feel the defeat entering my soul, like a blanket covering my violated body, giving me no other option than to do my best to shut everything out.

  I close my eyes, praying for it to be over soon, when someone bursts through the door.

  “I kinda expected a big fish like you wouldn’t have to force girls to take off their pants?” Ronnie’s brown-haired friend I exchanged longing looks with walks in, holding his black phone up, filming the entire thing. Vernon jumps back, his disgusting dick slipping from me before he quickly pulls his pants up.

  “Especially his sister. Damn, that’s twisted, man.”

  When Ronnie walks in behind him, I let out a deep sigh, relieved at the interruption. Junior lets go of me, and I hurry to sit up, immediately reaching for my jeans so I can cover my ass.

  “You got a thing for your sister, asshole?” Brown hair keeps the phone in the air while the room fills up with the rest of Ronnie’s guys.

  In any other circumstance, I would feel ashamed, laying here like a piece of meat, my ass barely covered while the boys of my former high school walk in. But right now, I’m happy to see every familiar face.

  “Get the fuck out, before I slit your throat.” Junior jumps off the couch, lunging for the phone like a madman.

  He easily ducks to evade Junior, letting out an entertained laugh before Ronnie punches Junior in the nose. Junior falls to the floor, his hands covering his face before he starts to groan in agony. The rest of the guidos give him a few more kicks while he’s down, and I couldn’t care less, seeing them beat up my brother.

  “Reign, get her,” Ronnie barks to his new friend, who then reaches out his hand to me.

  I grab it without a second thought, then he tugs me towards him. Reign quickly places himself in front of me, protecting me with his body, giving me time to properly put my jeans back on. The phone is still in the air, and he points the camera at Vernon, who is looking around the room with the same indifference that was visible in his eyes when I first entered the room.

  “Vernon Walt, what will your partners say when they hear that you pay money to rape young girls? Not really a trait that’s wanted for a big multinational company preaching about the importance of human rights, is it?”

  Vernon looks up at him with a scowl.

  “You don’t know who you’re messing with, boy.”

  “Hi!” Ronnie waves at him like the cocky eighteen-year-old that he is, drawing the attention back to him. “Ronnie Distucci, nice to meet you.” An arrogant grin settles on his face, making all the blood in Vernon’s face disappear as soon as he understands who he’s dealing with. His now pale as snow skin is washed with distress while his eyes stay focused on Ronnie.

  “Yeah, I thought you would know that name. It’s not me who you should worry about, though. It’s him. Yes, I can make your life end today, putting you out of your misery. I can even make your body disappear without a trace,” he explains, his arms in front of his body. “But it’s my boy over there who can make you break within ten seconds. Who can strip you of all your money. Make you legally dead or whatever cool trick he feels like playing. In fact, you will be missing seven million in your bank account tomorrow. Consider it a payment for silence from the mob.”

  “You’re bluffing.” Vernon gets up and starts putting on his clothes like it’s just another Monday morning. It gives me chills all over my body, how indifferent he is about this situation, making me believe this wasn’t his first time ‘buying’ a girl.

  Reign tosses his phone to Ronnie, then his tattooed hand pulls another one out of his back pocket. I stay behind his back, feeling somewhat protected behind this human wall.

  “Vernon Walt, forty-eight years old, CEO of the Independent Health Organization, married, father of two boys. Aah, look at that cute picture.” He holds the phone up for Ronnie, who sends him a sweet smile while making sure he keeps the camera focused on Vernon.

  “Cute.”

  I glance over to Vernon, watching as all the muscles tense in his face. His hands are balled into fists, and he looks like he is about to throw a fit. Reign cocks his head and continues mocking him, completely unaffected by the anger rising in the man in front of him.

  “I don’t really think your resume is complete, let’s add a few things.”

  “You will pay for this,” Junior grunts from the ground. Blood drips on the red carpet while he crawls across the floor.

  “Kenzo, he’s all yours. Shut him up, and get him out of my sight,” Ronnie instructs his right-hand man through gritted teeth.

  Moving his eyes from Ronnie to me, Kenzo shows off his pearly whites. His smile is comforting, just like it was back in school, but it vanishes as he pulls my brother off the floor and drags him towards the fire exit followed by the rest of Ronnie’s boys.

  Watching Kenzo and the others leave the room with Junior makes my defenses crumble some, my heart slowly beginning to calm down.

  Reign chuckles before he continues talking in a laid-back voice.

  “Where was I? Oh, right. Vernon Walt: racketeer, rapist, what do you think, Ronnie? Should we add murderer to the list? You wanna get rid of that Spanish dick?”

  “Gladly, but I don’t think she will agree.” Ronnie nods his head towards me, still watching the situation from behind the safety of my newfound hero.

  Reign glances at me over his shoulder, his light brown hair flopping in front of his eyes. He gives me a reassuring smile, warming my body.

  “What do you want us to do with your asshole brother, Angel?”

  I just blink in response, not able to voice anything right now.

  “Yeah, not really in the position to make any big decision right now, I guess. That’s okay.” He turns back to Vernon. “It’s your lucky day. Murder is off the table. Oh, look! Vernon Walt’s personal account alone holds two million dollars. You don’t really need that much, do you? I don’t think so. I say about 10k is enough.”

  “Don’t! My wife will ask questions,” Vernon pleads, his Adam’s apple bobbing in agitation.

  “Better your wife asking questions than the FBI, right?” he counters while he keeps tapping on the phone. “Congratulations, Angel. You just became a millionaire.”

  My eyes keep moving back and forth between the three men, not entirely understanding what the fuck is going on.

  “What do you want?” Vernon clenches his jaw, panic entering his voice.

  Reign straightens his body as if he flipped a switch, his energy converting to anger as he takes a threatening step towards the man who was raping me a few minutes ago.

  “What I want is to undo the last ten minutes for this girl, but we both know that ain’t happening.” The casual tone in Reign’s voice has been replaced by a livid growl. “So the second-best thing is exactly what I just did. To strip you of your money, making your wife wonder what the fuck her sick fuck husband did with her shopping funds. I’ve uploaded the video of your twisted hobby to a cloud site you will never get access to, so now you will have to live your life knowing it can be ended if I ever want it to be. You’ve got ten seconds to leave with a little dignity in your body, and maybe, just maybe, I can convince my Angel here to not pres
s charges against you.”

  “I want guarantees,” Vernon demands.

  “And she didn’t want to get raped. You lost your rights the second you forced yourself onto her. Now get out of my sight, before I strip your life completely with just one click.”

  Realizing he’s been outplayed, Vernon keeps quiet before he calmly buttons the jacket of his suit and walks out the door without giving us another glance.

  When his body disappears out of my sight, I let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding, as I feel my legs become shaky like Jell-O.

  Reign puts the phone in his back pocket while he turns around to face me, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek.

  “Are you okay, Angel?” I look into his light green, oval-shaped eyes as I slowly feel my mind slipping away. I part my lips to tell him I’m okay, but before any sound leaves my mouth, my head starts to spin like a bad carnival ride.

  “Whoa, I’ve got you, Angel,” I hear him say as I feel his arms wrapping around my body and my world turns black.

  Two

  Callie

  Three Months Ago

  I quickly glance at my reflection in the window of the dime a dozen pizza parlor.

  Or at least that’s what it looks like to anyone who is solely there for pizza. For those who come here for a different purpose, it is the perfect façade for what is hiding behind closed doors.

  Like the damn façade I’m wearing, doing my best to stay under the radar.

  It’s windy today, so I adjust the few strands of hair that have sprung out of my dark brown wig.

  I’ve always been a city girl. I love to live in the city that never sleeps, but ever since I got off the yacht, the loud noises of the city have become an annoyance to my ears. I wonder if it’s all between my ears, as if my mind is making it easier for me to say goodbye to the Big Apple.

  I straighten out the black Gucci trench coat my mother left me before I casually dig my hands into the deep pockets and walk in, taking a deep breath. My nose is welcomed by the mouthwatering smells of pizza and pasta, making my stomach roar in excitement caused by the lack of food I’ve been giving my body.

  I have bigger worries than keeping a full belly.

  Traditional, small, wooden tables are perfectly aligned with a red and white checkered tablecloth on each one of them. Every table is occupied by couples having a conversation over the small candle in the middle of their table, everything just like you would expect, walking into the typical Italian restaurant.

  For a second my mind wanders off, thinking what it would be like to be sitting here as one of the carefree couples. Holding hands and just talking about how my day was.

  With him.

  I slightly shake my head, then push the reason I’m wearing a wig out of my head.

  I move my feet towards the bar, shoot the girl behind it a smile, before I continue to the end of the bar. My black, knee-high boots are tapping against the hardwood floor with every step, announcing my arrival to the rest of the room.

  At the end of the bar sits a man wearing a white dress shirt and a black waistcoat, his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. His sleeves are rolled up, showing off the mocha skin of his arms. He is bald, but his black eyebrows tell me he used to have a thick head of black hair when he was younger.

  I’m halfway across the bar when his eyes move up and lock with mine.

  A sexist grin appears on his face, as if he’s assuming I will be his dessert for tonight, making me cringe in annoyance.

  In your dreams, jackass.

  “Are you hungry, Bella?”

  I suppress the urge to gag, and instead, I seductively show him a smile before I bite my lip.

  “For Italian? Always,” I purr. “But tonight, I’m looking for a specific Italian.”

  He reaches out his hand and tugs me into his chest before his hand slides over my ass. My hands are planted on his shoulders, and I do my best to keep them there, fighting the urge to smack his pompous head.

  “Yeah? What Italian would that be?” His smoky breath roams my face, making my stomach turn like a whirlwind.

  I snicker, doing my best to not roll my eyes while I move my face a little closer, my hands seductively stroking his neck.

  “Ronnie Distucci,” I whisper in his ear.

  He jerks his head back with wide eyes, then he softly pushes me away from him before he averts his gaze back to his phone, not wanting to give me another glance.

  “Get lost, little girl.”

  “I really want to, trust me,” I retort, my voice filled with defiance while I rest my back against the bar, “but I don’t think Ronnie will be happy with you when he finds out you told me, of all people, to leave.”

  His eyes move back to mine with agitation.

  “And who the fuck might you be, Bella?” His voice is filled with sarcasm, telling me he thinks I’m full of shit.

  Trust me, douchebag, I wish I was.

  “The woman he plans to marry.”

  His eyebrows shoot up in shock, then he stares at me for a few seconds.

  “Callie Reyes?” he asks as realization washes over his face. “What’s with the wig?”

  “It’s a long story.” I hold his gaze until he gets off his stool and nods his head, indicating for me to follow him to the kitchen.

  We walk past a trio of cooks, each working on their own worktop. They all curiously glance at me until Baldy snaps his head towards them.

  “Get back to work,” he barks, making them all move their eyes back to their hands.

  He opens a door at the end of the kitchen before walking up the stairs behind it. I trace the brick and stone walls with my fingertips, remembering how Ronnie would throw parties in this building while his father was overseas.

  When we reach the top of the stairs, Baldy opens the door. The thick smoke of cigars blurs my vision until I can see the familiar, white, U-shaped, leather couch in the middle of the room. There is music on in the background, and I’m assuming the empty bottles of liquor around the room are responsible for the smell of alcohol entering my nose. Ronnie is sitting on the couch, staring at the back of the perky brunette who is giving him a lap dance. In the middle of the room is a stripper pole with a blonde hanging upside down, showing off her agility in every way she can with half a dozen Italians looking at her tits, mesmerized by her talents.

  What is it with men and strippers?

  On the left side of the room is a pool table which Kenzo sits on top of with a cue stick in his hand while one of his buddies hangs above it, trying to shoot the eight ball into one of the pockets. His eyes find mine, then he furrows his brows in confusion before he recognizes me, and they raise up in surprise. A big grin appears on his face, and he shoots me a wink before I stop in front of the pole.

  “This is actually pretty impressive,” I remark as I stare at the blonde, cocking my head to the side.

  “What the—” Ronnie blurts before he roughly pushes the brunette off his lap. She shoots him a pissed look, but he meets her gaze with a scowl, and she quietly takes a seat next to him like a well-trained dog.

  “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” I say while I slowly move towards him with a walk full of sass, ignoring everyone surrounding us.

  I give him a smug smile.

  “Can we talk?”

  He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees before rubbing his palms together. The corner of his mouth rises in satisfaction, probably thinking he has me right where he wants.

  “Everybody out,” he growls before he leans his back against the couch, his arm draped over the back. “You finally came to your senses, amoré?”

  I drop onto the couch, leaving just enough distance between us to stay out of his grasp while I let my eyes roam over his body. He’s wearing dark jeans that hug his toned legs and a denim dress shirt that makes his black chest hair stick out against the fabric.

  He actually looks pretty handsome, and for some reason, I’m not annoyed with him right now.

  Pro
bably because that specific emotion is reserved for a special asshole at the moment.

  “Nah, I’m good,” I say, loosening my coat, showing off my short skirt and boots.

  His eyes follow the curves of my legs, then he softly licks his lips with a pleased grin on his face.

  “You went off the grid for a while, Callie girl,” Kenzo states as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, holding up three glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

  “Seriously, Kenzo, why do you always wear that tacky designer shit?” My eyes glance at the marine Philipp Plein shirt that is tightly pressed against his body.

  “What? Tacky? This is a $500 shirt.” He grabs the fabric with his fingers and lifts it in the air. “Limited edition, Callie.”

  “Still tacky.” I shrug.

  Ronnie quietly chuckles next to me, and Kenzo pulls a face before his eyes land back on me.

  “Whatever. What’s with the wig?”

  “I like it. Makes you look more Italian.” Ronnie moves forward while he wiggles his brows and tries to reach for my hair.

  I lift a finger in the air, silently halting him.

  “I’m not Italian, though.”

  “You will be once you marry me, Mrs. Distucci. Mrs. Distucci. That has a nice ring to it. What do you think, Kenzo?”

  Kenzo nods with an arrogant smirk while Ronnie reaches towards him to grab the bottle and the glasses out of his hand. He casually places the three tumblers in the palm of his big hand, then splashes two fingers of whiskey in each of them before handing me a glass.

  “So, amoré, ready to change your last name?” He gives the last glass to Kenzo.

  I bring the tumbler to my mouth, detecting a woody smell before the soft brown liquor touches my tongue, my eyes looking at his arrogant smirk over the rim of my glass.

  “You’ve known me for about eight years. What do you think?” I tease, while I feel the whiskey warm me inside. I reach into my pocket, not waiting for an answer, and pull out the small, black velvet bag, dangling it between my fingers before I toss it onto his lap.