CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 43
Mary-Ann Rossi
A gasp tore from Mary-Ann's chest. Her eyes snapped open, and it took a moment for her cloudy brain to boot up. Vincent DeLuca's bedroom. Soft furs caressed her exposed skin where she was nestled in the center of the massive mattress. The Lord of The Underline Club was nowhere to be seen.

She sat up slowly, brushing tangled black hair from her face. All that had occurred in bloodied, sordid detail over the last few days came flooding back.

Her baby.

Where the hell was she? She was seized by a frantic need to get to Sofia. Rolling off the bed, she noticed that her clothes were neatly folded and waiting for her on the chair. She quickly dressed in the jeans and T-shirt, thrusting her feet into the trainers.

Slipping out of the room, she padded down known stone corridors. Some new inner instinct guided her. Stealthy and purposeful, she kept her steps light as she listened for any murmur of life. Nothing stirred. Was it a game? A trap?

Seeing an open door, her feet started toward it involuntarily. She halted in her tracks.

The room was spacious, light, and airy. Pretty pink wallpaper, dotted with white, fat, snuggly cartoon sheep, covered the walls. A tall dresser, with drawers painted to match, stood against the wall. On the other side was a changing mat that was equipped with wet wipes and diapers. Stuffed animals of all kinds were tumbling out of a wooden chest.

Cradling a white crib in the center of the room by hand, a blonde demoness squatted on the floor, humming.

Mary-Ann saw red. That was it. Vincent had crossed the line. Everything that was hers had been ripped from her. Now it was time to cleanse herself. She was not going to sacrifice anything else for him. Here, she drew her boundary in blood and pain.

Sensing a presence, the blonde head jerked up. Her eyes locked with Mary-Ann's, and the woman spat at her. With purpose, Mary-Ann stalked into the room. Music curled through her brain, darkly beautiful and destructive.

Drawing a dagger free from beneath the cot, the woman scrambled upright to confront her. Did she really think she was going to prevent Mary-Ann from taking her child? Mary-Ann chose the brutal way—fast, violent. Blocking the feeble attack with a forearm, she buried a fist in the woman's ribs. Agony twisted the woman's face.

Mary-Ann was sure the woman had had to defend herself previously, possibly killed competition out of fear, but she was nothing like anything she had ever seen. It did not require much to disarm her.

Forcing the knife home, Mary-Ann pushed it through her chest with every ounce of strength. The harm was complete. The metal had ripped a tear in the organ, circulating blood through each vein, now struggling to persevere.

Thrashing and struggling against Mary-Ann's hold, soon strength ebbed from the woman's body. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she fought to hang on to life. Mary-Ann felt every convulsion, each muscle spasm. Releasing her hold, the woman fell to the carpet. Redness washed outward, discoloring the front of her gossamer-fine blue gown.

With detached interest, Mary-Ann observed as the blood soaked into the material, darkening it. Such a pretty color. Blond hair spread out about her on the floor, the demoness looked up at her with glassy eyes, serene for someone who had just been murdered in such a vicious way. Taking hold of the slippery hilt covered in blood, Mary-Ann ripped it free. Wiping the blade on the dead woman's skirts, she slid it into its sheath before placing it in the waistband at the back of her jeans.

A gurgle broke the stillness. Mary-Ann's attention snapped to the cot, her heart going a mile a minute at the noise. Tranquility from her recent kill vanished. 

This was too close to the messed-up dream she'd had, but she had to look. Sofia was what she'd been searching for, and she couldn't give up now. There wasn't any getting around this. Terror tied up her stomach with nervous cramps.

Creeping along, Mary-Ann edged her way closer until a pink woolen blanket came into view. Another sneaky step, and she could see over to the occupant sleeping inside.

Sofia Rossi.

Sleepy green eyes opened to hers. Thumb tucked between pursed lips, Sofia sucked hard on the digit. She looked so peaceful, a small being in all her perfection.

Love. It created warmth in Mary-Ann's chest along with wonder and amazement. She reached out and marveled at the downy smooth softness of a pink cheek as it met her knuckles. A tiny hand reached up, fingers curling around one of hers.

As carefully as she could, Mary-Ann scooped her up to cradle her in hungry arms that were still afraid to break her. She was a doll—fragile and precious. It reminded Mary-Ann how vulnerable her daughter was.

Mary-Ann buried her face in a patch of dark fuzzy hair and breathed in her new baby scent. God, she smelled so good—warm vanilla.

"It's okay, darling. Mummy's here now," she crooned softly. "And I'm never going to let you go."

Sofia fought harder at the sound of her voice, thrashing her legs. Savoring the moment, Mary-Ann's eyes welled up with tears. Sofia was even more perfect than she ever imagined. Mary-Ann was her guardian now, and for as long as she lived, she was going to love her until she took her last breath.

Her chin trembling, the tears broke like a dam, pouring down her face as she sobbed. Rawness warred with hope. All of the barriers she possessed were washed away by the new life she cradled in her arms. A baby.

Her baby.

Crashing to the floor, she rocked Sofia when she began to fuss, her own terrified cry blending with Mary-Ann's own. It was what made it all more real. Shoulders heaving with emotion, Mary-Ann took in a recovering breath, struggling for control. This was not where she was going to lose it. Not yet. She needed to get them someplace safe. Somewhere no one would be able to reach them.

Shakily getting to her feet, Mary-Ann gathered a blanket from the cot, wrapping her child in its warmth. Sofia quieted, as if sensing her urgency.

Not giving a glance to the body on the marble floor, Mary-Ann dashed from the room. She didn't know how long it would be before anyone would realize they were missing. She needed to be out of The Underline Club and back on Earth before that happened. Hallways twisted and turned constantly, changing the more she sped down them, as if the building itself had become a part of a conspiracy against her.

Rounding a corner at a trot, Mary-Ann arrived at the doorway to the throne room. Vincent DeLuca was at the center, two demon women sitting comfortably at his knee. The low rumble of his voice reached her across the room as he addressed the rest of the room's inhabitants. She had no opportunity to back away before his eyes found hers.

"Where are you off to, my Flower?"

Mary-Ann gave the women a scornful look and added them to her hit list. Marco Santoro on one side of him, Bruno Carvelli the other.

"I'm out of here," she told him flatly. "You're all just lying men, and if you think I'm going to stick around, think again."

"They all just played their parts. Whose blood are you wearing so victoriously?" Vincent asked nonchalantly.

"You left a demon slut to take care of my child," Mary-Ann spat. "The whore you let suck your cock."

Vincent DeLuca's bland face didn't budge an inch. "She was there to feed her until you woke. That was all."

He should have known better.

"Well now she's dead." Smugness dripped from Mary-Ann's voice.

Fear etched itself across the beautiful faces of the women still knelt so obediently at his leg like trained pets.

Bruno Carvelli took a risky step forward. "I hope in time you will realize what I did was never betrayal, but only a means to an end to assist you."

Clasping Sofia closer to her breast, every instinct rose up to protect her. "Move one step closer and I will have no problem cutting out your tongue before I slit your throat."

The Devil laughed. "Even now you have not lost your fire."

To flee was pointless. He would hunt them down if she did. There was but one way she could end this.

Marco, if you value your wings, you will take my daughter to Father Dominic Varela and tell him to guard her. If I find out that you did not, I'll relish tearing them off and mounting them on the wall as decorations," she told the large male.

"Bosslady, based on Mary-Ann's expression it looks like she's determined to take your balls as a trophy." Marco grinned.

Vincent DeLuca's lips curled into a smile at her irritation, his eyes blazing with desire and heat. "Leave us.".

"Come on, darling, let's leave here," Marco Santoro warbled, coming forward to claim Sofia from her arms. "We'll go visit your Aunty Teresa (Romano) and then call on Great Grandpa Father Dominic Varela while your mummy and daddy sort out their problems, which will quite possibly end with him getting his head chopped off. Which, considering what he permitted to be done to Teresa, I think he richly deserves." And in a flash of light, they were gone.