Page 6 of Bloody Savage God
She doesn’t get involved with street level stuff often, but the few times I heard she took care of things, she went hard. Which makes my cock twitch upward in a renewed reminder of the growing obsession I’m developing.
Fuck, the steel in my pants will make it hard to walk around, and isn’t that an appropriate punishment from my goddess?
As she drives past me, I stare at her tinted window. Today, I’m not wearing a mask and I want her to see my face.
Want her to think about me the way she’s making me think about her.
Consequences be damned.
Chapter Three
Gianna
Afterbeatinguptheboy scout, I consider skipping my daily workout, but I want to see Mia. We train together almost every day, and it doesn’t feel like a proper day without my gym fix.
Pulling the glass door to MM Martial Arts open, I walk past the empty counter and head to the change room. We always train during a two-hour time slot Mia marks down as private training. Since I actually pay her for the time, it isn’t even wrong, and I prefer that Mia closes the gym down completely, allowing us to train without anyone watching.
This is as much for my mental health as it is for my physical safety. I may mostly wear business suits, but that doesn’t mean I’m not on a number of high-profile shit lists, and I’d rather not get assaulted. Others not knowing your fighting style has a distinct advantage.
Besides, I might want my family to acknowledge that I can hold my own, but I’m not stupid enough to think they need to know exactly how I fight. Or how well.
Family loyalty is everything, but trust is for the naïve. I learned that lesson early on.
My father may have disagreed with that sentiment at some point in his life, but he didn’t grow up being a woman either. And that was before he had a daughter. I suspect he was utterly unprepared for the shit I’ve had to deal with growing up. Especially without my mother to help him out.
Pulling on my workout bra and tights after a quick shower, I walk through the gym to where Mia is already warming up.
“You’re late and you’re dripping on my floor.”
I push my wet ponytail back. “I had a thing.”
Mia stretches her hands over her head, going up on tiptoes as she reaches for a bar above her. She gives me a look that is easy enough to interpret, even without her having to ask.
“A family thing.”
She nods, having expected that answer. “Everything went okay, I take it?”
It’s my turn to nod, not bothering to explain what actually happened. There are things we don’t discuss outside the family and Mia understands that better than most, even if she didn’t grow up in one of the Italian families that run Toronto.
I start jumping in place, getting my heart rate up. “Have you heard from your dad’s lawyer?”
“Yeah, his visitation will be reinstated.”
Mia’s dad has been in prison for the past two years and locked up in one of Millhaven’sStructured Intervention Units for the past week and a half after he got into a brawl with some Russian. Luckily, he didn’t off the other guy, otherwise the consequences would have been worse.
The fucking Bratva really is becoming a problem. Especially since they have more loose cannons than actual leadership.
The SIUs where Mia’s dad is being held are the government’s fancy solution to the outcry over the inhumane treatment of prisoners. In all honesty, it’s just Canada’s re-branding of solitary confinement, because it’s the same thing really, just under a new name. Mia’s dad is still stuck in a ten-by-six-foot room with concrete walls and a solid metal door. And, more importantly, without visitation rights. Though, apparently, that’s changing again.
“That’s good news, him getting out of solitary. Will you be heading there soon then?”
Mia’s expression isn’t what I expected. She tends to visit her dad pretty often, so seeing her look unsure now is a surprise.
“Yeah. I mean, when they let me. When he’s officially back in gen pop.”
My curiosity is piqued, but we have an unspoken rule not to push when someone is holding back. In our lives that’s the only way you can keep a friendship, because Mia might not be mafia, but she sure is part of Toronto’s underbelly, with her dad having a fair bit of dealings with several organizations. Unfortunately, even the Russians, though that’s obviously not working out for him at the moment.
Finishing my own stretches, I give my friend a look. “Let’s train then.” She probably needs this release even more than me today.
