Maid for the Mafia
Six Fingers Later

**ROMANY**

A pitch black Tahoe was waiting on the edge of the runway when we landed. It was obvious the vehicle was waiting for us, because the moment the ladder went down and the hatch opened, a familiar pinched face and ugly mug jumped out of the driver's seat to open the doors.

*I remember that guy. He's that ugly dude that was at the house the first time that I met Tiny.*

*Bruno. I think...*

Simone and I giggled as we ran across the runway barefoot like a couple of schoolgirls. Then, the wind from the terminal caught on our robes and peeled them away from our bodies. It happened so quickly that neither of us had time to stop it. I'm sure an entire line of passengers inside the airport had to have seen us. Oddly enough, I didn't feel embarrassed. I felt sexy and intriguing. Almost as if I could hear the thoughts of the people behind the glass as they watched and wondered who we could possibly be.

*Were we movie stars, perhaps? Or were we just a couple of rich, spoiled women that couldn't even be bothered to get dressed before taking a plane ride?*

It was an exciting feeling - thinking we were the objects of a tiny public mystery. Well, I mean, I don't really know what Simone was feeling, but I imagine it had to be nearly the same thing. Once we reached the Tahoe, Tiny leapt in the front passenger seat, Simone sat in the single behind the driver, and Mickey ushered me onto the back bench with him.

The moment all the doors closed, the space fell dim and intimate. Mickey's arm slid over the back of the headrest behind me and I smiled to myself. Casting my eyes in his direction, I took my time admiring the strong set of his jawline as it flexed in the darkness. Even though it seemed he was refusing to look at me, still, he held me in the protective circle of his embrace. His biceps flexed against the back of my neck with every turn in the road and his fingers played with the silver strands of my hair, almost absently.

Watching him as we slid through the streets of his town, I noticed something. Everytime we hit a corner, or stopped at a light, his eyes were in motion. Scanning the terrain and everything else around us with the type of hyper-vigilance I imagine comes from years of living in danger. He had a way of surveying the area around him, of catching on things that may have seemed out of place or suspicious. Each time we stopped at an intersection, I felt him draw my body in closer, and I knew without a doubt that if something *did* happen, he would protect me with his life.

Kind of like the way he did when that guard, Gerald, tried to rape me in the storage room. He was sexy as hell then and he is sexy as hell now.

A sudden heat sparks between my legs as my gaze drifts over the perfectly cut heart of his lips. I know he's upset with me, but I don't care. The longer I stare at this man, the more I want him.

"We're a mile from my front gates," he said quietly, without looking at me. "So you can stop staring at me now."

Grinning from ear to ear, I remain focused on him. "No. Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I like the way you look when you're as pissed off as you are now. Maybe, just maybe, it turns me on."

He doesn't respond verbally, but I can feel the sudden tension in his muscles and see it in his thighs. That center seat of his, just between his legs is what I hone in on next, and the longer I stare at it, the bigger it gets, causing him to shift in his seat."

As the car passes through a set of tall iron doors, I finally look away from him to examine the grounds. There aren't any trees behind his gate, like there are at Alex's. Just grass. Lots and lots of well manicured grass and a few even spaced planters, housing what looks like rows of tulips. The wall around the estate is tall, maybe fifteen feet, and built entirely of steel or iron mesh. Making it close to impossible for anyone to see through from the outside.

The driveway curls about a half mile up from the gate, wrapping behind an extraordinarily steep incline, or manmade hill, before winding around a small stone fountain at the anterior side of a modern two story house. It's beautiful in an entirely different way than Alex's house is, and it's not nearly as big. For some reason, that pleases me, and by the time we stop in front of the tall, modern entry, that is entirely made from glass, I'm bubbling with excitement. Finally Mickey was looking at me. "My house isn't as big as Alex's, but your friend will have her own room with a balcony."

"My friend," I scoffed. "What about me? What will I have?"

He chuckled, then looked away from me without answering.

*Shit, maybe he's still mad after all.*

**ALEX**

Six fingers and three pages later, I finally believe I have the Professor's true and full confession. Holding it under the light as the bitch of a man behind me cries and whimpers and complains that he is going into shock, I snap a couple of pictures of it to read later. But as I go to hand the page to Damien, I see something in the writing that catches my eye. The words *forced her* make up thirty five percent of everything he's admitted to.

Starting with the very first line that reads: *I locked her in my office and forced her to have sex with me, although she was a virgin.*

Now... I don't know why* reading that bothered me so much. I can't *explain* what suddenly came over me in that moment, but I felt myself begin to lose it. My body started burning up, anger causing me to pant for breath. My eyes settled on the seven different blades lined up on the table and before I knew what I was doing, I had each of them in my hands.

"I've done what you asked!" Professor Jensen was crying. "I need a doctor please! I want my fingers sewn back on! I'm losing too much blood, can't you see?"

"You've done what I asked," I acknowledged, placing the letter on the table and ignoring Damien's wary gaze. "Thank you for it."

"Send me home! Please!" he cried.

My face cracked into a smile, for a moment. But just a small one, and it was by no means friendly.

"Alex," Damien warned, but he didn't dare approach me.

I chuckled, glanced down at the page one more time, going straight for the last line of the damn thing and read: *I fucked her one last time on my bed, and made her suck my dick. Then I forced her out on the streets, kicking her out of my apartment forever.*

"Mister Alex! Please! I'm bleeding. I need to go home."

"A promise is a promise," I said, before spinning toward him and letting loose with my seven favorite knives.

Four vital organs and three major arteries were now pin cushioned by seven inch carbon blades.

He never even made a sound.