Wife of a Mob Boss Ch. 01 - Sex Stories

Wife of a Mob Boss Ch. 01

... together.

Chapter Three

It was nearly three in the morning by the time I pulled the car over to the side of the road. The bridge I parked on was dark and poorly lit in spots. The MacArthur Causeway was a place I had done work before and was familiar with it. Marlene sat beside me in the front of the vehicle. Her tears and sniffles had followed us all the way from the club. Using the tip of her finger, she carefully dried her eyes and tried not to smear her makeup any more than she already had.

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” I asked gently. “I can get someone to take you home…”

“No, I’ll stay with you,” Marlene sniffled, then looked at me with sad eyes. “I thought I was going to die.” She broke into tears again as she cupped a hand over her mouth, and she took gasping breaths. Aside from a few bruises on her arms and suffocation, she was lucky to survive as long as she had, with no lasting damage. “He… was just so mad out of nowhere,” she continued. “He changed as soon as we were in that room. He just held the pillow down on my face so hard. He didn’t even try to fuck me, and… and…”

Marlene was gasping in a panic again. I picked up the bottle of water in the center console I had cracked open for her and opened it.

“Shhh, shhh!” I whispered, “It’s okay… it’s okay… I have to take care of this. You can wait in the car if you want.”

“No, I’ll come,” she straightened and turned her face serious. “I want to see.”

Exiting the car, we both walked ...

... to the rear of the vehicle, and I took my time taking in the surroundings. The empty road was free of cars. There were no boats in the water nearby. I didn’t see any security cameras. There was no need to inform anyone what happened. Laying a hand on the boss’ wife had a certain consequence that must be carried out swiftly. I would call Lorenzo in the morning, and the boss would know by tomorrow afternoon. They would be glad to know the man was dealt with.

When I felt satisfied, I popped my trunk. The bloody mess that was Marlene's date was hog-tied and gagged in the trunk of my vehicle. His eyes were wide and panicked as I dragged him out and dropped him on the concrete. I stood him up on wobbly feet that were bound together. Marlene’s face hardened, and she stared at the man who could speak but only could give her pleading eyes.

“You fucked with the wrong bitch,” Marlene said with a stern voice.

She hawked a wad of spit that landed on his left eye and the bridge of his nose. The man cursed and writhed, getting ready to retaliate, when I drew my sidearm from the holster and shot him four times in the chest. Marlene stepped back, and her hands jetted up to her ears with each gunshot. As the rapist stumbled backward into the bridge railing, I seized the moment and reached down, scooping a hand around his thigh. Lifting him, I flipped his heels over my head into the ocean below.

Turning to Marlene to check on how she was doing, I holstered my pistol and didn’t see ...