Captured by the Mafia (Completed)

Chapter 4

Vegas

I pace the floor of my bedroom; my fingers sink into my hair as I grip it almost painfully. I feel conflicted... confused. I've never felt this way about a prisoner and definitely not about a man before. I don't want to hurt him... I really fucking don't. But I have an image to uphold, a duty, a job as the boss of the family. There are people relying on me, people who need me. People like my son. I grit my teeth and exhale out of my nostrils. Maybe I just need to fuck him out of my system, get a taste of him. My mind drifts back to the memory of the way his tight hole clenched around my finger. How he claimed to be a virgin and clammed up at my touch. He did feel like a virgin but that's no proof. I'm trapped between two scenarios, and I can't figure out which one is the truth. Maybe he's a good actor? Or maybe he is telling the truth? Though I find it hard to believe such an attractive man could still be intact, it wouldn't be completely impossible. I clench my jaw tighter. His hole felt like heaven wrapped around my finger and since coming back upstairs, I've done everything humanly possible next to cutting my own legs off to stop myself from going backdown there. He looks so fragile, like a delicate fucking flower, and I don't want to snuff out the light that he needs to grow, but I can't just let him go either. I need whatever information he knows... he must know something more. Innocent or not, if he can't tell me anything then he has no use in my house, and if there is no use for him then he might as well be dead. 

I leave my room in a huff and head back toward the basement, my feet moving all on their own. Emotions I've never felt before swirl deep inside my head. What is it about this man that tugs at my fucking heartstrings? He's under my skin, inside my head, and wreaking havoc on my life, and he's been here what, a few hours' time? I can't let this continue...I'm stronger than this. Caring for him, that's a complete weakness. I rush down the stairs faster, this weird feeling in my gut taking root. Something is off. I reach for my gun just to make sure it's there even though I know it's always there. Old habits never die, I suppose. When I enter the basement, the sinking feeling I had is confirmed. A male voice echoes through the dark hallway, his shadow lingering along the walls. Anger rears its ugly head, and I know I'm about to do something that I may not like. I reach for my gun again, this time taking it out. I flick the safety off, holding it in front of me, ready to shoot at any given time. I start to walk around the corner when I spot one of my newest guards in front of his cell, trying to unlock the door. I grit my teeth. What the fuck is this prick doing? I told every single one of my guys to stay out of the basement. He knew I was hiding something, but was it any of his fucking business to investigate? No. The fury festering inside me boils over when I hear the cell unlock, and I watch him step into the cell. "Now let's have some fun before the boss comes back. Spread those creamy white thighs for me. I want to see if you're as innocent as you look." As quietly as I can, I move closer until I'm right behind him. I don't dare look at the boy's face. I don't want to see the spiraling fear inside his eyes, not unless I put it there. Raising my gun to the idiot's head, I pull the trigger. His body hits the floor before the sound of the gun going off has even reached my ears. 

A scream from my sweet mouse fills my ears. He needs me... he needs my protection. The thought forms in my mind and I ignore it. I step over the dead body and into the cell. I'll have to get one of the other men to clean this up, and then I'll have to call a meeting letting everyone know that no one touches him. No one. My eyes scan the cell, until they find his tiny body. He is huddled up on the floor against the wall farthest away, looking just as scared as I thought he would be. Like a mouse caught in a trap, he is at my mercy. I stare at him for along moment, wondering what I will do with him. There's a feral look in his eyes, and I wonder if he thinks I'm going to hurt him? The muscle in my chest beats harshly. Guilt washes over me... a feeling I rarely experience anymore. I don't know why I feel bad for him, why I feel bad for killing this bastard in his presence. I shouldn't feel anything for him at all... I shouldn't care at all about anything that pertains to him, but I do. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." I gesture for him to come forward, but he doesn't move or give me any other sign that he heard what I said. He just keeps staring at the body lying on the floor outside the cell. Yet, another indicator that he is telling the truth. How he could have been one of my father's whores and get spooked by a man being shot in the head? Shaking my head at the thought, I walk deeper into the cell, stopping only once I'm standing right in front of him. The tip of my shoes almost touch his toe.

"Are you coming?" I try my best to keep my tone soft. He's already scared enough as it is, what's the point in scaring him more? Still nothing. No reaction at all. I eye him once more. His body is tucked into itself as if to make his already small body appear smaller. His fingers grip his knees so hard his knuckles turn white. I inspect his features closer; they're a cross between fear and shock. He's definitely never witnessed a murder, or any crime, before. Fuck, he's going to be a piece of work, and I just don't have the time for that shit. But you want to. I sigh loudly and stick the gun back into the holster at my side. Then I kneel down beside him and slide my arms under his small body. I lift him up in my arms, and I wonder if he will fight me or beg me to put him down. When he doesn't, I wonder if he's had a mental breakdown. As I bring his body into my chest, he goes stiff and rigid at first, but once I stand up and start walking with him, his arms snake around my neck. He cuddles into my chest, like I'm the only person who can protect him from the monsters in the dark. He hasn't realized yet that I am the monster in the dark. Who does he think I am? I should probably just put him back in that cell and lock the door. It's what I'd do with any other person... right? Wrong. Any other person would be dead by now. Frustration over this tiny man spirals out of control inside me. I should stop this whole thing before it gets even further... I really should. But he just feels too fucking perfect in my arms, and I imagine him in my bed, my cock sliding deep inside him, my name falling from his lips. The urge to toss him to the floor consumes me, and I tighten my hold on him instead. I'm fighting myself tooth and nail over him, and I don't even know why. "You... you killed him?" he finally says. "Yeah? What's your point?" I try my hardest not to sound angry, but I am. I'm so fucking angry, at him, at myself, at everything. "W... why did you kill him?" His voice is fragile, matching his delicate facial features. He's so tiny I could crush him in an instant. I could wrap my hands around his throat and remove his existence from my life...and I fucking don't. 

"I don't fucking know," I growl, reaching the bedroom... my bedroom. I kick the half open door all the way open and walk inside. Cradling his body against mine feels wrong, and right, and still so fucking wrong. I walk over to the king-sized bed and toss him down onto the mattress. He scurries backward, away from me. His doe eyes dazzle with fear. "What are you going to do to me?" His bottom lip trembles as he speaks. God, he's so gorgeous when he's on the verge of tears. "I don't know, Mouse." I pause briefly, scrubbing a hand down my face. "Part of me wants to put a bullet in your head; another part wants to fuck you senseless." I see him thighs clench together at my response, and I wonder if he would like me fucking him. I wouldn't be gentle like he most likely deserves... I'd be ruthless, sinister. I'd fuck him until he was screaming for me to stop, and even then, I'd still keep going. I shake the thought away, and when he doesn't respond, I walk over to the dresser and grab a shirt out for him, flinging it at him over my shoulder. "Either way, you should probably be scared, Mouse. I don't take mercy on anyone, whether that be in bed or out of bed. There's a chance I might fuck you and kill you moments later." When I turn around, I find his face a mask of horror. He's scared, and that's exactly what I need him to be for this to work out. If he's scared of me, it'll make it easier for me to kill him once I get him out of my system. "Go shower and make sure you clean your wounds well. I don't want you to die before I'm done with you." I remain standing, watching his movements as he slowly gets up from the bed, those big eyes of his never leaving mine. When his bare feet hit the floor, he darts toward one of the open doors to his right. I haven't told him which room is the bathroom and yet he finds it without thought. 

He escapes inside with the shirt, my shirt, in his hand, and I exhale, clenching my jaw so hard I can feel my molars grind together. I need a drink... a strong one. I also need to kill him, but I don't think I can do it. I pull my gun from its holster and examine it. All I have todo is lift the barrel and pull the trigger. All I have to do is pull the fucking trigger... but I won't. I can't. Why? I don't fucking know. I never had this issue before. I hear the water in the bathroom turn on. An image of him completely naked beneath the spray enters my mind. I shake my head as if doing so will remove the image from my mind, but it doesn't. Why is he under my skin? In my head? Normally, I wouldn't have to rationalize with myself over killing someone, but with him, I have to and I don't like it. I don't like the power he holds over me for not being able to do it. I walk over to the small bar I have in the corner of the room and grab a bottle of bourbon, as well as a glass. I consider drinking the entire fucking thing, but that wouldn't be smart. I need to be sober, or somewhat sober, in case there is an attack. So, instead, I pour half a glass and walk back over to the bed, swirling the amber liquid around. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him to finish his shower, contemplating my next move. My gun sits heavily against my thigh. When I hear the water shut off, I down what's left of the bourbon, letting the warmth of the liquid give me the courage I need to finish the job. Will you live or die to today, Mouse?