Vexing Victor (The Adamos Book 4) Read online

  Vexing Victor

  An Adamo Story

  Mia Madison

  Contents

  1. Getting You The Hell Out

  2. Fair Question

  3. Sorry To Interrupt

  4. Alpha Summit

  5. Aching For More

  6. Before I Left Town

  7. Already In It

  8. Panda Wallpaper

  9. Sticking Around

  10. Prove Myself

  11. Promise Me

  12. Just About Anything

  13. Punching The Walls

  14. Ache In My Heart

  15. Fuck Me Or Let Me Go

  16. Off The Road

  17. Being Claimed

  18. The Turned-On Answer

  19. Burlap

  20. Anything Crazy

  21. Do You Know

  22. Still Be Hungry

  23. Stormy

  24. Talk To Me

  25. A Heavy Fist

  26. One Good Eye

  27. I Want My Victor Back

  28. Until You Do

  29. Missed You

  Epilogue

  Also by Mia Madison

  About the Author

  VEXING VICTOR

  Copyright 2016 Mia Madison

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  1

  Getting You The Hell Out

  My tires screech on the asphalt as I fishtail around a corner and gun the car’s engine. Behind me, I can feel more than hear the roar of dozens of motorcycles. The Serpents are closing in.

  Desperate, I streak through an intersection just as the light turns red, ignoring the honking horns. If I’m lucky, there’s enough traffic behind me to stop at least some of the bikes from getting through.

  I need to get off this road; I can’t outrun them forever. My eyes scan for potential hiding places as I weave in and out among the cars, going too fast, crossing my fingers that the street stays pedestrian-free.

  A glance in my rearview mirror shows three bikes, side by side. Buzz and his two top lieutenants. And they’re gaining on me.

  My heart is pounding, my stomach tied in knots of dread. Up ahead on my right, there’s a big sign that shows a hotrod car with flame detailing. Next to that, it says: REVVED • Garage • Parts • Café.

  A garage with a café? That’s weird, but I don’t have time to think about it. Downshifting, I hang a sharp right into the Revved parking lot.

  The area in front of the café is jammed with cars, and I don’t want to be visible from the street anyway. I whip around to the back and find a single spot open, right next to a gorgeous Corvette.

  Maybe luck is with me for once. I pull in, kill the engine, and make a dash for the rear door. If I can find a bathroom to hide out in, I’ll hole up there. What I’ll do after that, I have no idea. Hoping the Serpents will get tired of looking for me is stupid, but it’s all I’ve got.

  The door opens onto a hallway. At its other end, it leads into the dining area, which I can see is packed with people. On my right is an open doorway that leads to the kitchen, and on my left is another door with a man standing in it.

  I have a quick impression of height, dark hair, and muscles. Somewhere down deep, below the panic, is a little thrill of awareness. If I weren’t running for my life I’d be taking a closer look.

  As I come alongside him, I slow, intending to ask the man where the bathrooms are. Before I can get a word out, one strong arm clamps around my waist and hauls me against him.

  Quick as a flash, he pulls me inside the room, which I see now is an office, and puts a hand over my mouth to block the shout I was about to unleash. “Pipe down,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  He sounds annoyed, which seems unfair — he just grabbed me, not the other way around. I glare at him, but this puts my eyes on his face and it’s difficult to remember I’m angry. Or anything else.

  He’s the sexiest man I have ever seen in my life. Dark hair long enough to have some wave to it; dark eyes with ridiculously long lashes; a mouth made for pleasure. You might make the mistake of thinking him pretty if he had any hint of softness to him.

  But he doesn’t. He exudes pure, raw masculine energy, tough and unyielding. Maybe it’s some kind of extreme reaction to being in danger — defying death with life — but my libido has suddenly woken up and is working overtime.

  My strongest impulse right now is to peel off his shirt and run my hands all over his arms, his chest, the six-pack I’m sure is hidden under his clothing. I want to feel his muscles flex at my touch.

  I want to feel a lot more than that.

  All this goes through my mind in half a second, and then he’s talking into a phone. “I’ve got her. We’re heading out. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Then he hustles me out of the office and down the hallway toward the exit. I struggle, because no way am I going back out there, but he’s way stronger than I am so it’s pointless.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss, since his hand is no longer on my mouth.

  “Getting you the hell out of here, sunshine.”

  2

  Fair Question

  He all but carries me out and over to my car, which somehow he knows is mine. Fishing my keys from my pocket, he beeps it open, tosses me into the passenger seat from the driver’s side, slides in himself, and power-locks the doors before I can jump out.

  “Buckle up, doll.” He adjusts the driver’s seat backward to make room for his long legs and starts the engine.

  “You can’t drive my car!” I know I’m being ridiculous but I can’t help it. Everything in my life is out of control, and my car is all I’ve got in the world right now, and this — man — is basically kidnapping me in my own vehicle.

  “Or don’t,” he says, glancing at my seat belt. “It’s your funeral.” With that, he reverses the car out of its space and guns it toward the street. I’m not ready to die yet, so I hastily buckle myself in just as the car roars past Buzz and his lieutenants on their way into the parking lot.

  I imagine them cursing and turning around, but I can’t think about that too much because my kidnapper is an even crazier driver than I am. The smooth play of his muscles as he shifts is distracting, which is just as well. We’re racing up the main drag at probably twice or three times the speed limit.

  At least he’s heading away from the Serpents. Except … my eyes get wide as they register the sea of black leather riding toward us.

  “Holy crap,” I breathe as a ton of motorcycles pass us going the other way. None of them are Serpents, and something tells me it’s not coincidence. I almost wish I could be there to see what happens when they encounter Buzz and his gang. Almost.

  My captor hasn’t said anything since he started driving. That’s okay; I’m happy to have him concentrating on not getting us killed. Which is why I’m biting back all the questions swarming in my brain.

  He powers through a turn onto a side road. A few streets late
r, we’re heading for a big iron gate. The car isn’t slowing at all, and for a moment I have the freaky thought that the guy is some kind of wacko and he’s going to ram right through it.

  But it opens, just enough for us to zip through. The car bounces off the rough driveway onto the grass and goes around the back of the two-story house. We’re on a big lot, and the whole perimeter is lined with trees and bushes, making an effective privacy screen from anyone nearby.

  The hot guy parks the car and gets out. I get out too, and head off at a run toward the nearest edge of the property, but I only make it half a dozen steps before I’m brought up short by his arm around my waist again.

  This time he turns me to face him and boosts me up over his shoulder, his arm like a steel bar across the backs of my thighs. I pound on his back with my fists, scared and furious, and he smacks my ass. Ow!

  A few seconds later, the sting has become a tingle that’s working right through my core. Now I’m furious with myself for getting turned on. I must be losing my mind.

  He opens a back door and carries me through a room with tile floors and a staircase winding up to the next floor. We go through another doorway and end up in a big living room with comfortable-looking furniture and an enormous flat-screen tv on one wall. The house looks like a rustic cabin — wood everywhere — only it’s a lot bigger than that.

  The hot guy sets me down and points a finger in my face. “I’m warning you, sunshine. I am not having a good day and you’re the reason. You try to run again, I’m gonna tie you up.”

  Damn. I have definitely lost my mind, because that gives me tingles too. A little shiver runs down my spine, and next thing I know my nipples are poking against the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

  He notices, of course. His eyes get hot and even darker, and I’m not entirely certain that this crazy man who’s abducted me won’t follow through on the energy crackling in the air between us. I fold my arms over my breasts, tucking my hands in on the opposite sides, and glare at him again. “Who are you, and what the hell is going on?”

  His eyes flash with an emotion I can’t read, but the tension in the air eases off a little bit. “Fair question,” he says. Not that he answers it.

  3

  Sorry To Interrupt

  He puts a hand at the small of my back. It’s large and warm and I feel his touch deep inside. He guides me out the other end of the living room to a short hallway that leads to a kitchen. It’s still got the rustic cabin thing going on with all the wood, but the appliances are new and top of the line.

  Opening the refrigerator, he says, “We got beer — you old enough to drink?” I scowl, and he puts the beer bottle back in the fridge and says, “How old are you?”

  “Twenty.” I don’t know why I’m telling him anything, especially the truth, except maybe if I do he’ll answer some of my questions. He pulls out a can of Sanpellegrino and shows it to me, and I nod, so he takes out another can and hands me one.

  We go back in the living room. I sit on the sofa and he sits right next to me. “Can you move, please?” I ask.

  “Not until I know you’ve settled down.”

  Fine. I peel the wrapper off the top of my soda and take a sip, not looking at him even though I can feel him watching me. That works until he runs a finger down my hair. He does it almost delicately, but the nerve endings in my scalp get excited, and then it spreads.

  I whip my hair away from him. “Don’t touch me!” The next instant, his hand goes into my hair and tightens, enough to give me a tiny frisson of pain. And just like that, my skin goes hot and tight and my nipples are hard again.

  “Let’s get something straight, sunshine,” he breathes in my ear. “You get under my skin. All that dark wavy hair, soft skin, tits and ass and smelling good enough to eat.” His scent, soap and spices and masculine musk, permeates my senses, intoxicating me. “Not sure why ever other word out of your mouth makes me wanna either fuck you or spank you, but I’m not gonna pretend it’s not true.”

  His grip tightens a fraction, and I hiss out a breath as wet heat pools between my legs. “There’s no point pretending you don’t feel it too, so don’t lie to me. I’m gonna keep you safe, but whatever this is between us, we’re exploring it.”

  “That’s crazy,” I gasp. “You don’t know me. We don’t even know each other’s names.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’d fuck you right now if my cousin weren’t on the way.”

  I shudder with pure lust. He grabs my can of soda and thunks it down on the end table, and then his mouth covers mine. I can’t fight the madness, so I don’t — I surrender and ride the current that’s dragged us both under.

  My arms go around his neck and I kiss him back, opening to him, letting his tongue plunge inside. His hand comes up to cup my breast, his fingers pinching my nipple, and I moan into his mouth as my hands tunnel into his hair.

  When he hauls me into his lap to straddle him, it doesn’t even occur to me that he’s put me in control, that I could stop. I keep kissing him like my life depends on it. His hands dive inside the back of my jeans and my panties to squeeze my bare ass, and I grind myself against him, frantic.

  Only the sound of a throat being cleared — loudly — jolts me out of my haze. I jerk out of Crazy Hot Guy’s grip and twist back into my seat on the couch, my face hot. What the hell is wrong with me?

  It takes me a moment before I can look up to see the man standing in the doorway. He’s enormous, well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a massive chest, and arms and legs muscled to match. His hair is dark, with little glints of silver in it, and his eyes are a deep brown so dark they’re almost black.

  He’s dressed all in black and looks like he’d be at home in military fatigues, doing all sorts of incredibly macho and heroic things. I can’t decide if he’s more scary or sexy.

  Next to him is a curvy redhead who looks like she’s around my age. Unlike the man, whose face is carefully blank, she’s biting her lip, trying not to smile. Her eyes are warm, and for reasons I can’t explain I relax a little.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” the man says, without a hint of sarcasm. His eyes go to our cans of soda before he turns to the redhead. He puts a hand on her hip, his face softening, and the way she looks back at him makes my heart squeeze.

  4

  Alpha Summit

  “Show her where the bathroom is, angel,” he says gently, and she nods. As soon as I hear the word bathroom, my bladder speaks up and agrees that’s a good idea, so I stand up and follow her willingly.

  There’s another hallway that leads off the living room, at right angles to the one that took us to the kitchen. Halfway down on the left, she indicates an open door. I go in and close it, and take care of business.

  When I open it again, I hear the low sound of male voices coming from the living room. The redhead is waiting in the hallway and stops me before I come back out. Instead, she joins me in there and shuts the door.

  It’s a good-sized bathroom, but I still take a step back, suddenly nervous again. “Sorry,” she says quietly. “Didn’t mean to spook you. I just want to be sure Carlo’s done with Vic before we go back out there, and I figured we could talk in the meantime.”

  “Done with him?” I say, not at all sure what she’s talking about. I’m too embarrassed to admit I don’t even know which of them is which.

  “I think he’s giving him a bit of a lecture,” she says, her mouth twitching. “Which will probably go over like a lead balloon. Carlo’s a few years older than Vic, but only a few.”

  So maybe Carlo is the huge man with silver in his hair, which means the crazy man I couldn’t keep my hands off of must be Vic. Which also means he’s way too old for me, if he’s only a little younger than the other guy. Not that I should be thinking about him as a potential … anything. As soon as I can get away from here, I’ll be back on the road.

  In the meantime, the redhead’s looking at me expectantly, so I dig for a response. “Is Vic short for Victor?” I ask.
>
  “Yeah. He didn’t tell you?” Then she rolls her eyes. “Jeez, I’m such an idiot. Here I am babbling on and I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Gina Driscoll.”

  “Frankie Zanetti,” I say after a slight hesitation that Gina doesn’t miss. I get the feeling she doesn’t miss much. But she doesn’t call me on it.

  “You’re Italian,” she says with a grin.

  “Yeah. Why is that funny?”

  Her smile vanishes, replaced by a look that’s half incredulous, half horrified. “Didn’t Vic tell you anything?”

  I stare at the floor, and after a moment she says, “Right. Okay, two things. First, I jumped Carlo within about sixty seconds of meeting him.”

  My head snaps up. “Sixty seconds? And you jumped him?”

  “I literally, physically threw myself at him. In my own defense, it was after he’d followed me and gotten in my face and been infuriatingly sexy.”

  Despite myself, a snort of laughter escapes me. “Infuriatingly sexy is exactly the right phrase. Not for him,” I add hastily. “I mean, I guess it is right for him. Too. Not that I’d know.”

  Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “No worries. Adamo men are all like that.”

  “Adamo men,” I repeat.

  Gina arches an eyebrow, then shakes her head. “He really didn’t tell you anything,” she says, still smiling, and I shake my head in turn. She doesn’t need to know just how little talking we did.

  “All right,” she goes on, “ten-second history of the Adamo family. They’re everywhere in this state, there are tons of them, and all the men — at least all the ones I’ve ever met — are hot as hell and alpha males with a capital A.”

  “Tons of them?” I repeat disbelievingly. “There’s a whole state—” I point toward the living room — “full of men like those two?”