Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Max
Okay.
Well.
Coming across him wearing just a low-slung towel that put an unexpectedly toned body on display when I was still a little slow and soft from sleep was definitely not part of the plan.
I’d woken up slowly, thanks to some siren blaring on the TV, then all at once, remembering where the hell I was.
I shot up off the couch, the blanket Miko must have draped around me sliding back onto the cushions as my sock-clad feet met the ground. And then I remembered him kneeling down to take off my boots.
How the hell had I let that happen?
How had this man that I’d known for point-five seconds managed to disarm me so easily?
Determined to try to get some of my dignity back, I went in search of Miko. I figured I would find him flipping through images on his laptop. Not walking through his bedroom nearly naked.
I learned a little secret about him right then, though. Not just that the man was incredibly fit, from his strong shoulders and chest to the cuts of his abdominal muscles and Adonis belt. But that, despite his very neat, old-fashioned appearance on the outside, underneath his clothes, he had a shitton of tattoos.
They were all black and gray and really well done, from the massive chest piece down to the ones that clung to his ribs and must have hurt like a bitch. He even had them on his legs and the tops of his feet.
There was an almost overwhelming urge to step closer, to see what all of the images were of, to ask if they had meaning, to run my fingers and my tongue…
No.
God.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe Megs was right; it had been too long since I’d been with anyone. I was thirsting after the guy who held my life in his hands.
Because as much as he’d been good to me so far, I could never lose sight of the fact that he was a member of the mafia, that he wasn’t even a capo, let alone the boss. Which meant that, while Miko was kind, that his bosses might not be. Orders could come down at any moment to take me out.
I couldn’t forget that.
The problem was, my body just didn’t want to get that memo as I stood there, my thighs tensed to try to ease the ache growing between them.
Then he had to go and walk into his closet and, with his back to me, whip off that towel and give me a view of his perfectly sculpted ass.
The most fucked-up part, though? That was how much I was just praying he might turn to the side and remove any further speculation. Even if, objectively, I had seen the outline of his cock through that damn towel. It wasn’t good enough. That slutty little voice in the back of my head wanted to see the full monty.
Before he could catch me peeking like a creep, I let my gaze fall to my feet, observing how threadbare my socks were getting while the sizzle of attraction coursed through me as Miko got himself dressed.
Then, instead of getting right to work, annoyed that I’d wasted his time by passing out for so long, he went on to insist he feed me first.
There was this strange, not unpleasant, weight pressing on my chest at that, then spreading outward until it enveloped me completely, this unexpected blanket of comfort that I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced before.
The closest I could claim to have gotten was that tingly feeling I got each time I got a good paycheck, something that offered me a sense of security that so much of my early life had been lacking.
It was similar, but not quite the same.
And the uncertainty of it made me tamp it down until I could figure it out.
Half an hour later, we were sharing a thick Sicilian pie that made me want to moan, even if the crispy edges felt like swallowing glass with how inflamed my throat still felt.
I had to admit that with some sleep and a full stomach, I was feeling a hell of a lot more like myself. So much so that by the time Miko had served me a hot coffee—bringing with it that damn blanket feeling again—and produced the laptop to look at images, I felt ready to potentially face the bastard who’d put his hands on me, who’d stolen the sense of security I’d felt inside my own home.
“Alright. This is as far as I’ve gotten. I am considering there is a chance it isn’t one of these people, but possibly someone associated with them,” Miko told me as he placed the laptop on his leg and started to click through the many images he had compiled.
I expected to have that big a-ha moment you saw on TV shows. When the victim flipped through to the right page to find her attacker staring back.
But it never happened.
There wasn’t even that little uneasy feeling in my stomach that said maybe that one .
“He’s not here,” I said once we toggled through them all twice.
“I guess that would have been too easy, right?” Miko asked, shooting me a small smile as he clapped the laptop lid closed.
“How the hell are you not losing your shit right now?”
To that, Miko shrugged as he placed the laptop on the end table. “I would be if this was a job one of the bosses put me on. But this was my own job. I put up my own money. So while it fucking sucks, I’m not risking my future.”
“Are you allowed to do that? Work jobs without asking?”
“It’s actually encouraged. The more of an earner you are, the more chances you get Made. Or if you are already Made, the better your chances of moving up in the ranks.”
“What are you?”
“Soldier.”
“Which is…”
“The first rung of the Made man ladder. Below us are associates. Directly above, caporegime. Or capo.”
“What’s above that?”
“The underboss, consigliere, and the boss. And at the very top, the capo-dei-capi .”
“What’s the difference between a boss and a capo-dei-capi ?”
“That title literally means ‘boss of bosses,’” Miko explained. “He is in charge of the whole organization. At least regionally. I think the days of the capo-dei-capi having control coast-to-coast are over. But Lorenzo Costa is our regional capo-dei-capi .”
“That’s your family.”
“Yeah. I directly work for Cosimo Costa. But he works directly for Lorenzo.”
“And your goal is to become an equal with Cosimo?”
“Yeah.”
“Why not aim higher?”
“Because you don’t get higher,” he told me. “Not unless someone dies.”
“Why?”
“The hierarchy is set once the boss takes over. He picks his most trusted friends to be right at the top with him. I don’t want to be at the top of the organization. I just want to have my own crew. I’ve worked my ass off for it.”
“Was this job your attempt to prove your worth?”
To that, he drew in a deep breath then exhaled it on a sigh. It was the closest to frustrated I’d seen him so far. “Yeah.” There was a beat before he said, “Don’t you dare apologize.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I admitted.
He turned, that charming little smile tugging at his lips, his eyes all gooey.
And damn if my sex didn’t clench so hard that I almost moaned. Right there in his damn face.
“So, uh, what now?” I asked. Then licked my lips. Damnit. What the hell was wrong with me? This guy just scrambled my mind, ripped away my usual guards. Just by being near. It made no sense.
“Good question,” he said, leaning the side of his head against the back cushion, making him angle ever so slightly closer to me.
I totally didn’t think of how easy it would be to just lean down, press my lips to his. And maybe his hand would raise, slide behind my neck to hold me against him as he deepened the kiss, as he reached to pull me to straddle him, and…
“Max?”
“What?” I asked. Coming back to the present wasn’t quite the wet blanket over my libido that I hoped it might be. If anything, I just wanted to make the fantasy a reality.
“How do you feel about a little stakeout?”
“A stakeout? Are we in a cop drama?”
“Feels like it sometimes. But from the other side. So, you down?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“The comfort of the car and the quality of the snacks.”
“Car is a luxury SUV with lots of room and heated seats, and I’m open to requests on the snacks.”
“Then I guess I can squeeze it in. Until my face is healed. Then I need to get my ass back to work.”
“Looks like I got a solid week or two,” he said, gaze moving over my face, his features going hard, then soft again for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand.
“I don’t think we have that long before someone moves those diamonds,” I reasoned.
“Yeah, you’re not wrong about that. Which is why I’m gonna ask if you’re willing to do the stakeout over the next day or two days.”
“Why do you make it sound like it’s not local?” I asked, suspicious.
“‘Cause it’s not.”
“How far away is it?” I asked.
“It’s upstate.”
“How far upstate?”
“Far enough that you’re gonna need to pack a bag.”
“Look, I get that I owe you half a million dollars, but not even that kind of debt is going to have me sleeping in a car with you.”
“Figure I could manage to rent a couple of rooms.”
“What the hell am I gonna tell Megs?”
“Does she know your exact work schedule?”
“No, not usually. I never want her to have to choose between lying to the cops and protecting me.”
“I get that. Same with my ma and sisters. Well, just tell her you got a job you couldn’t pass up. And since she’s gonna be busy with her partners, you figured there was no reason not to take it on.”
That could work. She would still have a million questions and more than a few concerns, but she wouldn’t be overly suspicious. I was always working. I could even be truthful to her about it being a stakeout.
“Alright. I can swing it,” I agreed. “What time do you want to head out?”
“Early. I’d like to get there before the place opens in the morning, get a good spot, watch everyone make their way in. Probably gotta be heading out of the city by five.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, checking the time on my phone. “Alright. Well, I should get going.”
“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, standing with me.
“Work?”
“DMV,” he corrected, looking pained. “Even the fucking License Express office could take hours.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Do you drive?”
“Where the hell would I have learned to drive?” I asked, shaking my head as I slid into my boots.
“Fair enough.”
“Why do you drive? Aren’t you from the city?”
“Sort of. My parents moved us to Greenwich when there started to be too many of us to comfortably live in a city apartment. The commute isn’t bad, but you kinda gotta do it by car. Been living in the city for all my adult life, but having a car and a license comes in handy for more than visiting my parents.”
“Like doing stakeouts upstate.”
“Yeah,” he agreed as we both filed into the elevator. “Even if it comes with the headache of having to deal with the damn DMV.”
“I should feel guilty about that,” I said.
“And yet…” he said, shooting me a smile as we exited the elevator.
“And yet,” I agreed.
“So, I’ll drop by to scoop… no?” he asked when I shook my head.
“No. I’ll meet you here. I don’t want Megs or Nicole seeing you and starting to worry.”
“Five,” he said.
“Five,” I agreed before forcing myself to turn and walk away from him.
I spent the entire walk back to my building thinking about all the ways spending several days with Miko might be a terrible idea.
Like, you know, knowing he would be in a hotel room beside mine. Possibly naked. And willing.
“Christ,” I grumbled to myself as I took the elevator up to my apartment.
I needed to get a grip.
So what if he was attractive? And kind? And gave me that weird warm blanket feeling?
I was a grown-ass woman.
I could be with a hot guy for a few days without anything happening.
I hoped.