Mafia's Captive Desire

The brunette gasped softly as another wave of pleasure hit her, making her body shake before she collapsed into the sheets, fast asleep.

Barry lay still for a moment, watching her. Then, he sighed and got out of bed. Moving smoothly, he stretched his arms and walked to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water wake him up as he washed away the sweat. His body relaxed, but his mind stayed sharp.

By the time he stepped out, drying his hair, two loud knocks came at the door. He was buttoning up his white shirt when he said, "Come in."

The girl stirred, pulling the sheets around her as the door opened. Barry didn't look at her. One of his men walked in, standing straight.

"Sir," the man said. "We found him."

Barry paused before finishing his last button. His eyes narrowed. "Where?"

"In the boroughs. He just left an apartment. He's with a woman."

Barry smirked. Predictable.

"We can go after him tonight," the man suggested.

Barry shot him a cold look. "No. Bring Carrick Depay to me in an hour. No delays." He grabbed his jacket, feeling the weight of his gun inside. "If he escapes, you'll regret it."

The man swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, boss."

Barry adjusted his cuffs and glanced in the mirror. The girl was awake now, staring at him with wide eyes. She flinched when he met her gaze. He just smirked and turned away.

His men would handle her.

Without another word, Barry left the hotel room, his man following behind him.

Lucy Depay groaned as she got off the bus. Another exhausting night. The air was cool, the sky pale blue, but all she cared about was getting home. She pulled her hoodie up, covering her blonde hair. She was used to the judging stares.

She didn't hate her job anymore. It paid the bills, and that was what mattered.

Yawning, she climbed the apartment steps, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Her stomach twisted when she saw the sink full of dirty dishes.

Her jaw tightened. "Seriously?"

She stomped toward the second bedroom, the one that had been hers alone until three days ago. She banged on the door. "Carrick!"

The door opened, and her older brother stood there, his hair messy, his eyes barely open. "What, Lucy?" he grumbled.

She pointed at the sink. "Clean it. Now."

Carrick groaned, rubbed his face, and slammed the door shut again.

Lucy exhaled sharply and went back to the kitchen. She shoved a frozen meal into the microwave, frustration bubbling inside her. She should have said no when he showed up. But he'd looked so tired, so desperate. She couldn't turn him away.

She never could.

A few minutes later, he dragged himself into the kitchen, shirtless, looking too comfortable. She rolled her eyes as she sat down with her food, watching him wash the dishes.

"You still won't tell me why you're here," she said casually.

Carrick's shoulders tensed before he muttered, "Not your problem."

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Are you in trouble?"

Silence. Then his voice, low and sharp. "Drop it, Lucy."

The way he said it made her uneasy. Then, he slammed the cabinet door shut, making her jump.

Something was wrong. And she had a bad feeling she wouldn't like the truth when she found out.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER: LUCY'S BEDROOM

Lucy's eyes snapped open at the sound of a loud crash. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she jolted upright, only to freeze when she saw a gun pointed directly at her.

"Get up," a gruff voice ordered.

Her gaze locked onto the stranger holding the weapon. She had never seen him before. Panic gripped her, but she forced herself to move, slowly peeling back the covers. The thin nightgown she wore did little to shield her from the cold, or her fear.

Before she could ask what was happening, the man jerked his gun toward the door. "Move."

Her hands shook as she grabbed her robe and wrapped it around herself. The moment she stepped out of the bedroom, the sound of a pained grunt made her freeze.

Carrick.

"Keep going." The cold press of the gun against her shoulder blade forced her forward. With each hesitant step, she heard more, the dull thuds of fists meeting flesh, a muffled curse, her brother groaning in pain.

When she reached the living room, her stomach dropped. Carrick was on the floor, bloodied and struggling to breathe. Two men stood over him, their weapons drawn, while another flexed his fingers, knuckles gleaming with brass.

"Carrick," she whispered, horror choking her voice.

"Leave her out of this," Carrick rasped. "She doesn't know anything."

A brutal kick to his ribs cut him off. Lucy's nails dug into her palms to keep from screaming.

"Thought you could run?" one of the men sneered, pressing his boot into Carrick's shoulder, forcing him down. "Now you pay."

Before Lucy could react, rough hands grabbed her from behind. A thick cloth bag was forced over her head, plunging her into darkness. She thrashed, but the grip was too strong. The world tilted as she was lifted off the ground.

The next thing she knew, she was in a moving vehicle. The low rumble of an engine mixed with Carrick's pained groans. Fear curled around her ribs, tightening with each passing second.

She should have never let him stay.

"Oh, Carrick," she whimpered, voice barely above a whisper. "What did you do?"

Barry Cooper stepped out of his sleek black car, his polished leather shoes hitting the cracked pavement outside the warehouse. His driver bowed slightly as he passed, but Barry didn't acknowledge him. His focus was elsewhere.

Inside, the warehouse buzzed with activity. Men, his men, stood around, some cleaning weapons, others passing the time with idle chatter. The moment they saw him, they straightened, their conversations dying instantly.

Barry ignored them. His attention was on the man crumpled on the floor, bruised and bloodied.

"Tsk, tsk," Barry muttered, kneeling beside Carrick Depay. He studied him like one might an insect before crushing it underfoot. "You're a slippery one, I'll give you that. But you forgot one thing, no one escapes Barry Cooper."

Carrick coughed, tasting blood. "Please... don't do this."

Barry chuckled, amused by the pathetic plea. "That's funny." He turned to his men. "Leave us."

They didn't hesitate. In seconds, the room was empty, leaving Barry alone with his prey.

He leaned in, watching Carrick flinch. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

"I can pay you back," Carrick blurted out. "Just give me a chance..."

Barry silenced him with a slow, deliberate shake of his head. "I could," he said, pulling his gun from his holster, "but why would I waste my time on a liability like you?"

Carrick's breathing turned ragged. "Please! I have a wife! She's pregnant! Just spare me!"

A soft gasp caught Barry's attention. His eyes flicked to the far side of the room, where a woman knelt, her hair disheveled, her robe slipping from one shoulder. His gaze sharpened.

Carrick's woman? No... something about her was different.

"Let him go," she said, her voice stronger than he expected.

Barry raised an eyebrow. "You're in no position to make demands."

She swallowed hard. "Please. He's my only brother. I don't know what he did, but..."

Barry cut her off with a sharp laugh. "Your brother sealed his fate long ago."

Carrick whimpered, but a deadly glare from Barry silenced him.

Lucy's hands clenched into fists. "Please," she whispered. "I'll do anything. Just let him go."