Free Taken by the Italian Mafia: A Dark City Romance by Sadie Black, BWWM United Page B

with quickly, and lunged back into the fight. A snap of his wrist licked the belt across Arturo's side, and the man recovered enough to yelp with pain.
              "FUCKER!" Arturo spat. "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR ISSUE?"
              "You wanna keep being beat, Arturo?" Rocco asked, tone devoid of emotion. The cold killer was back — this was the same man who was out in the alley, not the one Whitney had got to know on the car ride over. "Cuz I can keep going. We can make this just like when you were seven, when you lit the cat on fire and dad beat you until you bled. Do you want that?"
              "SHE'S JUST A WHORE," Arturo screamed, spittle flying from his lips. Rocco cracked the belt down again, catching Arturo in close to the same spot. The belt cut through his shirt like it was nothing, exposing the raw skin beneath.
              "I don't care what she is," Rocco said, "what I care about is she is my responsibility, my job. You are not welcome to step in and make judgments in my place. Until dad gets out, I   am the one in charge around here. Is that understood?"
              "You're sick, Rocco. I'm family."
              "And she is my business. If you don't step in and fuck with my job, I won't have reason to fuck with you."
              Rocco tossed the belt over Arturo's chest, and Arturo snatched it up with such vigor that Whitney was sure he was going to keep fighting. Instead, the younger of the Lombardo brothers scrambled to his feet, glared daggers at Rocco, and turned on his heels. Arturo left the house. The front door slammed in his wake.
    At least, Whitney thought as she watched him go, she hadn't ended up in a back alley with Arturo. Next to him, Rocco looked like a saint.
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Chapter Eleven

Rocco
    W hen Arturo scrambled to his feet and turned tail, there was no satisfaction in it. The fact was, Arturo didn't know when to stop and didn't respond to punishment well. Even as he gave in, Rocco saw the glint greed in his eyes, as though his younger brother enjoyed being beaten within an inch of his life. The fight taught him nothing. If Rocco didn't watch his back, Arturo would stab it without a second thought.
    When he heard the slam of a car door, Rocco exhaled, cleared his mind of what had just happened, and turned to look at Whitney. The sting of deep bruising along his jaw was a familiar pain, and he paid his injuries no mind. Instead, he went to Whitney.
              Her vest was torn open. Two full breasts were his to take in, a prize for the victor. Rocco only allowed his eyes to linger for a moment as he approached before he looked her in the eye. His brother had abused her enough — right now she deserved some respect.
              "I, uh, I'm sorry for my brother. I didn't want that to happen to you."
              Full, dark lips turned downward as Whitney looked up at him. Those soulful black eyes he'd tried to avoid before read into his very soul.
              "You can't trust anyone but yourself, right?" A callback to their conversation in the car. "I'm... I'm okay. Just a little frazzled."
              The belt had dug into her neck, leaving a deep imprint. As far as Rocco could see, it wasn't bleeding. Arturo was forced to stop before he could do much damage.
              "Yeah. I bet." With Arturo just outside, Rocco knew he couldn't leave Whitney cuffed to the railing. If he was going to keep her alive until the storm passed, he was going to have to take better care of her. "I'll be right back. If he comes in again and I'm not here, scream like you did that last time and I'll come for you."
              A bob of her head was his only reply. Rocco took to the stairs and returned to the master bathroom to retrieve the key to the handcuffs.
              Rocco returned to the stairwell and Whitney's side. The key fit in the pinhole, freeing Whitney's hands. Scratches covered her wrists