BOW DOWN: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family) by B. B. Hamel Read Free Book Online Page B

feelings that were brewing inside of me, the curiosity and the desire, get the better of me. I could control my feelings. I had always been about control.
    I found her in the same spot as the other night, though this time she wasn’t wearing a dress. Her long hair was pulled up in a bun and she had on tight jeans and a plain black t-shirt. She smiled as I approached.
    “Wyatt.”
    “Louisa. Am I overdressed?” I was wearing a three-piece suit.
    “Not at all. You look perfect.”
    “Of course I do.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Where are we going tonight?”
    “You’ll see.” She smiled and headed out front. I followed her, unable to stop myself from smiling back.
    We got into the back of my car and she gave the driver an address. He paused until I gave him a nod, and then he headed out. I guessed that the address was unusual, or else the driver wouldn’t have hesitated like that.
    “I hope you’re not taking me somewhere inappropriate,” I said to her.
    “There’s no such thing.”
    “I can’t go to crack dens, underground fights, or gambling parlors. As much as I’d like to.”
    She laughed. “Nothing like that tonight.”
    “Damn. And here I was thinking we were about to have a lot of fun.”
    “Oh, we’re going to have fun.”
    “I suspect that’s true.”
    We drove through Chicago and moved into a series of rundown neighborhoods. Louisa spoke about the city, about housing segregation and poverty, mostly things I already knew. But I liked to hear her talk, liked her voice and the way she held herself.
    Finally, the driver stopped outside of an abandoned building. It looked worse than the other houses around it, and I thought there might be bullet holes in the façade.
    Louisa climbed out. I got out behind her.
    “Lovely home,” I said, and then looked at the driver. “Wait down the block.”
    He nodded and drove off.
    “You know who I am and what I do,” she said.
    “I do.”
    “Part of that is my war with the mafia.”
    “I know about that, too.”
    “Good. So you’ll understand what I’m about to show you.” She walked up the front stoop and forced the door open.
    I followed her, fascinated.
    Inside, the house looked like it was once richly decorated. There were the remnants of velvet curtains, plush couches, and expensive glasses. Most of it was in tatters, and the place smelled like mildew. There were definitely bullet holes in a few places, and I was pretty sure the copper-colored stain in the front hall was blood.
    “What happened here?” I asked her.
    “This is where women were made into slaves.” We walked through the downstairs, lingering in each room a moment. For a second, I thought I could still hear the voices of the people that passed through those rooms.
    There was a heavy weight sitting in each space, like something was still lingering. I couldn’t exactly pin it down, but it wasn’t a good feeling. It was in the small details: a ripped-open condom box, a child’s toy, a can of Spam.
    “We did this,” Louisa said finally as we got to the back door. It was splintered open like a bomb had gone off. Bullet holes riddles the walls.
    “Why?”
    “We saved the girls here.”
    More copper stains covered the floor.
    “How many people died here?”
    She shrugged. “Not many. We’re good at what we do.”
    I frowned. “Still. I’m a politician, Louisa. If it ever comes out that I’m involved with violent people . . . “
    “You already are.” She stared at me for a second. “Come on.”
    I followed her back to the front of the house. We moved upstairs, being careful to step around the trash and the detritus leftover from the battle. There was more blood on the walls, splattered all over. We reached the first landing and walked down a tight hallway with multiple doors on either side.
    “Look inside,” she said.
    I opened the first door. It was a small room, barely the size of a closet. There was a single twin bed in the middle, though it was badly stained and