Bad Behavior: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

  Bad Behavior

  A Dark Mafia Romance

  Leah Holt

  Contents

  Copyright

  Connect with Leah!

  1. The Reckoning

  2. Ivy

  3. Dante

  4. Ivy

  5. Dante

  6. Ivy

  7. Ivy

  8. Dante

  9. Ivy

  10. Dante

  11. Ivy

  12. Ivy

  13. Dante

  14. Dante

  15. Dante

  16. Ivy

  17. Dante

  18. Ivy

  19. Dante

  20. Ivy

  21. Ivy

  22. Dante

  Epilogue

  About Leah Holt

  BAD BEHAVIOR

  The Behavior Series Book One

  A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2016 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. BAD BEHAVIOR: A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art By: www.cormarcovers.com

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  Also from Leah Holt:

  CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance

  HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance

  THIRD DATE: A Romantic Comedy

  MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance

  BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance

  COME HOME BAD BOY: A Military Romance Novella

  BODY LOCK: A BAD BOY MMA ROMANCE

  One

  The Reckoning

  The saying goes: 'Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice.'

  That was something I used to believe, but now . . . It didn't mean shit.

  I had been stolen twice; once for pleasure, and once for gain.

  Both hurt, both had shattered me into unrecognizable pieces of myself.

  But only one would keep me alive.

  Who am I?

  I'm Ivy . . . And I was about to be saved by the enemy.

  The air surged through my lungs like the electric snap of a battery against the tip of your tongue. Inhaling a deep breath, I gasped to keep the oxygen flowing. I wasn't sure if I had died and was awakening to the force who had placed me on the earth to begin with.

  My eyes were open, but everything was still black. I was in a deep pit that had no bottom, no top, no walls, only blackness. Trying to move my arms, a stabbing pain scaled over my shoulders then raked down my spine.

  I wasn't dead.

  Death would've been nicer.

  A shred of fear kept me motionless, the pain holding me suspended like a statue.

  Where am I?

  I could feel the ground against my cheek. It was cold and damp, small grains of sand scuffed against my skin. And in that one second, all my other senses went into overdrive.

  The world around me was gone, but I could smell the thickness of old air. It was musty, and I wanted to cough, but I forced my body to hold it in. I couldn't remember how I ended up here, and my silence might have been the only thing still keeping me alive.

  Just listen.

  My sight might have been stripped away, but I could still hear. My ears turned into megaphones, zeroing in on every noise that echoed. Water was dripping from somewhere near me, I could hear it pinging off of something metal. The normally quiet and easily bypassed sound rang like a bell inside my head. The dripping was slow but constant, coming every few seconds.

  Pipes, cold hard floor, moldy scent . . .

  A basement?

  An old factory?

  I wanted to scream in frustration. This couldn't be happening again, not again.

  Straining to listen, I tried to figure out if I was alone, or if someone else was in the room, watching, observing, waiting . . .

  But I didn't hear any hard breaths, or shuffling of feet across the floor. There was nothing. Complete silence enhanced the torture of the dripping water. Complete silence made my heart pound like a drum inside my chest.

  For a brief moment, I wished I could halt the intense thumping of the muscle. I didn't want to give anyone—if they were watching, listening—the realization I was alive.

  Because I still wasn't sure if I was supposed to be.

  Wiggling my fingers gently behind my back, I felt the rope trapping my wrists. Shifting my ankles ever so lightly, I felt the coarse fibers digging into my flesh. It burned, buzzing up my calves, making me quietly cringe to myself.

  This is not happening.

  I won't let it.

  I knew that if I hadn't already endured everything I'd been through—living through before this—then this shit would really be fucking with my head right now.

  The silver lining . . .

  I was stronger now than I had ever been, the only positive that came from the pain I had already suffered.

  But nothing was going to break me, I wasn't going to let it.

  Taking another deep breath, I calmed my nerves. Letting my fingertips feel over the rope, I found the knot and began to work at it.

  I need to get free and find something to protect myself.

  Pulling and digging, tugging and tearing at the rope, I felt the knot pop loose, easing its talons over my wrists. Wiggling hard, I twisted my hands and pulled them free.

  Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

  My shoulders slumped forward as I brought them around, twinging with pain as the blood rushed back in like fire through my veins. But I didn't wait for the feeling in my muscles to come back. In one quick snap, I tore the blindfold off my eyes.

  A soft glow of light was coming from a single bulb dangling in the center of the room, blasting my eyes like the damn mid-day sun. It seemed so bright, so harsh, zapping my pupils and blinding me again. Blinking rapidly, I shielded my face then shot forward to start on my ankles.

  Pulling the last loop of the binding, the strands broke away, falling to the floor.

  I was free.

  Free from the bindings holding me hostage, but still confined to a small, cement room. The place was solid, concrete block on top of concrete block that made up the walls. The ceiling was low, but just as solid, made of thick wood beams. The floor was partially finished, a shimmer of gray spotted the dark brown, but dirt was spread across the whole damn thing.

  Rolling and rubbing my wrists, I glanced around the room, noticing a wide, messy trail on the floor. I knew what it was . . .

  It was from me, from whoever dragged my limp body into this hellhole. Large footprints were scattered like fossils in the sand around my drag marks, all of them leading in and out from one exit, one door.

  One escape.

  There was only one way in and one way out of this place. There were no windows, no air-vents, nothing.

  I was in a tomb.

  A weapon. I at least need some sort of weapon.

  Rubbing my arms, I shivered as the cool air tried to grasp my skin. But there wasn't any time for that, and my instincts knew it, forcing adrenaline through my body.r />
  Searching the room for anything to protect myself, the only real option I saw were the pipes above my head. Feeling the icy metal, I rocked them, shook them, twisted them.

  Wet droplets coated my palms, turning the solid pipes into slick, melting popsicles. I couldn't grab one without my hands spinning wildly and making no real headway in loosening it.

  I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Every inch of my body was throbbing and sore. My shoulders were stinging, my face felt swollen and bruised. I didn't even notice how badly my ribs burned when I inhaled until I had to exert the energy to try and move a mountain.

  Fuck! Come on!

  Dragging my fingers through my hair, I felt the sand against my scalp, and the knots binding it all together. I didn't need a mirror to know I must have looked like complete shit right then.

  My shirt was torn, hanging off my shoulders and exposing my stomach. The jeans I had on were gone, leaving me practically naked, aside from the thin panties Remo always insisted I wear.

  Fucking pervert.

  Standing barefoot, I dug my toes into the dirt, staring up at the pipes. I had one final idea lurch into my brain, a last-ditch effort to protect myself from whatever evil had stored me here.

  Tearing a thick strip of fabric off the tattered bottom of my shirt, I wrapped it tightly around the smallest and weakest pipe I could find. Using every last inch of energy I had, I finally felt the metal spring free.

  Clunk!

  As the pipe gave way, a loud ricochet echoed over the walls. It wasn't the ideal object I was looking for, a bit smaller than I wanted, but it would have to do.

  Backing against the wall, I slipped down into a crouch and waited.

  I wasn't sure how much time had gone by, I had no way of checking. I was stripped of everything—no purse, no keys, no phone.

  Even my fucking shoes were gone.

  Maybe it was hours that had passed, maybe minutes, or even seconds. Either way, sitting in a barely lit room filled with nothingness was torture in itself.

  But I still waited, still listened, gripping the pipe like it had been glued to my hands.

  Then it happened. It all happened so fast, and I hadn't fully thought about what I would do.

  The voices came first, starting off distant, barely a whisper in the air. They grew stronger the closer they came, the thumping of feet mixed with proverbial chuckles and words I couldn't make out.

  They're laughing?

  They're fucking laughing while they have me locked in here?

  A rage filled my gut, heating my core with a madness I hadn't felt before. The men approaching the door were chatting and talking as if this was a normal situation, a day to day activity like they were going to play fucking basketball.

  Standing quickly, I held the pipe like a baseball bat, ready to strike the second the door opened. The handle jiggled, and I could hear the distinct sound of the key clicking the lock open.

  The door opened easily with no hesitation.

  I was fairly certain with how they entered so brazenly that they didn't expect I had gotten loose. In one quick swoop, I swung the metal rod, hitting the first man on the head.

  A loud growl shot out from the back of his throat, his body lunging forward and falling to one knee as he cupped his skull. A second man ran in from behind, and I did the only thing I could.

  I kept swinging.

  Adrenaline purged my veins, my heart slammed around inside my chest, beating against my ribs. But it didn't matter how much pain I had felt before, because right then I felt nothing.

  His arms were flailing, darting around my body as I swung blindly in the air. And as the thought crept in that maybe I had a chance to escape, a chance to run and free myself from whatever these men had planned for me . . .

  It all came crashing down in a quick flash.

  My arms were grabbed from behind me, thick fingers curled over my biceps, yanking my limbs to my spine. Screaming in pain, the pipe fell from my grasp, landing with a heavy thud on the floor.

  “Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” I could hear my screams, but I didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't me screaming, it was fear screaming.

  “You stupid fucking bitch! You dumb, stupid, fucking whore!” The heated words were followed with a palm across my face.

  Prickles of pain shot over my jaw, searing the bone just under my eye. Another hit came down on my face, knocking my head in the other direction. My neck snapped, hair falling into my eyes and covering the tear that trailed over my cheek.

  I will not let them see me cry.

  They don't deserve the satisfaction.

  The taste of iron filled my mouth, coating my tongue in liquid metal. “Fuck you,” I hissed, spitting in the direction of his voice.

  A deep, throaty laugh filled my ears behind me. “You hear that, Tony? She wants to fuck you, she is a whore.” I could feel the hot air leave his lips, slinking over my neck.

  I wanted to wash my skin, get the feel of his breath off my body. “Let me go, and you won't get hurt.”

  The laugh turned louder, hitting a higher pitch. “Us? Who's gonna hurt us, Sweetheart? Looks to me like you're talking out your ass.”

  “Shut up, Vince.” The man's hand came up and brushed the hair from my face. “Do you know who we are?”

  Looking into his eyes, I saw nothing but empty holes. I didn't recognize him, didn't know his voice. He was a large man with dark greasy hair slicked back tight against his scalp. A thin patch of facial hair followed his chin and trickled up to his ears.

  He was well dressed, to my surprise. A black button-up wrapped his torso, rolling up on his forearms, his pants had seams running down the front, pin-straight ironed out seams.

  “Did your mommy iron your pants for you?” I couldn't stop my tongue from lashing out, even if it earned me a second, harder crack across my jaw.

  “You're gonna learn quick, that mouth needs to stop.” His fingers teased the edge of my bra strap, flicking it on my shoulder. “Or it's going to get you in trouble.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “There she goes again, Tony. She wants to fuck you.”

  “Well, she knows her position here then.” Bringing his mouth to my ear, he whispered. “Because I'm going to make you wish you never woke up, never broke free, never met me.”

  His tongue licked my lobe, teeth biting down hard. Letting out a loud yelp, I tried to move away, free my arms, and kick him.

  But I couldn't.

  I was too small to break out from the muscles holding me tight.

  The man behind me was still faceless, but that didn't last very long. The guy he called Tony pulled a gun from behind his back, pushing it snugly against my temple. “No more games, Sweetheart.”

  The barrel was pressed so hard against my skin, I could feel the death it held inside. He didn't wield the gun like it was his first time holding one.

  This man had experience, and I didn't plan on dying in here like that. So I went into survival mode two; play his game for now, and wait. The right time to get away will show itself, and I'll grab it by the balls. I was determined not to miss my opportunity, but now—with a gun to my face—was not the time.

  Kicking the gun towards the back of the room, he said, “Move.”

  Vince released me slowly, stepping to the side and pulling out his sidearm. “I want her first, Tony.”

  “Fuck you man, no way. I took the pipe to the head, she's mine first.”

  No . . . No . . .

  Anything but that.

  I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. The room became glossy, covered in a watery haze. “Please, please don't. You don't have to do this.”

  Deep down I didn't want to beg them, but I didn't want to be violated . . . Not here, not like this.

  “Um, yeah we do. I'm taking mine, I deserve that much for getting you here.” The cold barrel of the gun slid across my lower back. His voice was smiling, making me ill to my stomach. “With an ass like that, I can't not take t
he piece I earned.”

  “You're a fucking sicko, you know that? You get your jollies off raping women, how pathetic. You're fucking pathetic.” Sneering, I ground my teeth together, wishing any amount of pain to come down and strike him where he stood.

  His fingers dove into my hair, coiling painfully around the roots, and snapping my head back. “I thought I told you to watch that mouth?” Shoving me forward, I landed on my hands and knees at the feet of Vince.

  I had this sick feeling of being their twisted play toy seep through my skin and turn my brain into hot soup. And I hated it.

  I had lived it already, was living it before I ended up here.

  Looking up at Vince, he was skinnier than the other guy, but just as massive. His hair was longer, pulled back in a smooth ponytail, a devilish grin peeling up on his face. “I think I'm going to like this one, Tony.” His teeth bared down on his lip, hand grossly cupping and squeezing his groin. “She's feisty, I love a woman who doesn't make it easy.”

  “Slow down, Vince, you get my sloppy seconds.” Tony's hand wrapped around my neck, lifting me up on my knees.

  “I don't care, either way I'm going to fuck her till she bleeds.” Vince bent down, twirling a strand of my nappy hair around his finger. “You'll like that, won't you?”

  Pulling saliva up from the back of my throat, I let it fly right into his face. “Fuck you too, Asshole.”

  Vince's face went from excited to sour, grimacing instantly. And in one quick snap, he swung the butt of the gun across my cheek. I could hear the cracking of bone under the metal object, my jaw shattering and displacing in agonizing pain.

  Falling to my side, I gripped my face and moaned. The pain was surreal, hitting and igniting a fire that spread over my body.

  I don't deserve this. I only wanted a better life.

  Not this, not what I had.

  “There you go, Sweetheart, lay down. That's exactly where I want you anyway.” Tony slid his hand over my thigh, curling his finger into my panties, and tearing them off. I tried to fight him again, despite the crushing throb in my jaw.