Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
ZOE
I’m a fool. Let’s just leave it at that.
Connor has jeans on now over his black boxer briefs, but he’s shirtless. His six-pack and pecs make it hard to drag my gaze away, but I manage to.
“Help yourself,” he says, nodding at the fridge before looking back down at his phone.
My own phone’s battery is dead, and he’s not interested in loaning me a charger. I’m trapped and phone-less. Is anyone looking for me yet?
I glance at the clock on the stove. It’s eleven. When I don’t answer texts, most people will probably think I’m sleeping in at first. Eventually though, they will want to know where I am. Of course no one will think of looking for me in Connor McCann’s stronghold. And even if they did…
The inside of his fridge is like walking the aisles at Whole Foods. I grab organic yogurt and mix in some berries. I find a bag of raw nuts and add them, stirring.
He slides his phone into his pocket and pours coffee into a big mug. “What about some eggs?” he asks.
“Are you offering to make them? Or is that up to me, Sir?”
His dark gaze over the top of the coffee cup makes me regret my sarcasm. He’s not a man to be toyed with. Why do I keep pushing him?
“If I want you to serve me something, it won’t be eggs.”
I lick my lips. “Well, then?” I say, unable to keep the challenge out of my voice. I’m frustrated and a little afraid. I have no idea how this kidnapping scenario is going to play out. What if he decides he doesn’t want a witness? And when I’m nervous, I’m snarky. It’s a defense mechanism.
“You should quit while you’re ahead, Zoe.”
“Or what?” I demand.
“You know what.”
I look at the strong hand gripping his mug. That hand spanked my ass last night until I squirmed and sobbed. My stomach clenches. So does my pussy. There is something so aggressively masculine about him that I can’t help but react to it.
“What’s happening with the investigation?” I ask, anxious to move on from memories of last night.
“It’s on. When they know something worth knowing, they’ll tell me. Until then, they’re working.”
The front door opens. “C?”
“Here,” Connor says.
A young guy with a smattering of scars over the side of his face and neck comes in. He sets a duffle bag on the counter.
“Everything from her list,” he says with a nod.
I stare at the bag. It’s from my place. I’m stunned.
“Thanks,” Connor says.
“You need anything else, C?” he asks in a tone that says he’s ready and willing to run more C Crue errands.
“No, head out.”
The guy runs a hand through his scruffy hair and then looks at me. His gaze cuts back to Connor. “There were flowers on her mat. From a guy. Dennis. I tossed them on the counter. Figured the neighbors didn’t need a signal she wasn’t around.”
“Good.”
The guy sets my keys on the counter. “Later,” he says, leaving.
When the front door shuts behind him, C looks at me. “Dennis who?”
“Sanders. He’s my ex.”
“An ex who comes by your place?”
I shrug. “Sometimes. He probably came by to congratulate me for getting through opening night. He was around when we were planning the show.”
“We? Who’s we?”
Shit. That was a mistake. “Me,” I say quickly. “And Miss Sylvia. I got her advice on some things.”
He swigs his coffee. “Not a bad breakup if he’s bringing you flowers. Is he trying to get back with you? Or does he have something to make up for?”
“That’s personal.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Again, personal. As in none of your business.”
“It is my business. He’s a guy who shows up at your place unannounced. When was the last time he was in your apartment?”
The spoonful of fruit and yogurt pauses halfway to my mouth.
“It ended three months ago. I don’t remember the last time he stopped by, but a while ago.
” My mind races. I broke things off with Dennis when I’d suspected he was using me to get close to guys in Frank’s organization.
He was always talking about wanting to make more cash and how the guys working for Frank Palermo never had to worry about money.
No, I thought, they just had to worry about getting killed.
I’d made it clear I wanted no part of dating someone who worked for Frank.
When he’d mentioned Frank’s organization once too often and insisted on coming in when we went to pick up Rachel, I broke things off.
Connor sets his mug on the counter. “What’s on your mind, Z?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, finishing the bite of yogurt and turning. I rinse the container in the sink.
When I turn back, Connor is texting. A moment later, he slides his phone into his pocket.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Do you love him?”
“What did you just do?”
“Nothing. Do you love him?” he demands.
“No, I’m not in love with him. That doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to him. He shouldn’t be targeted because he’s my ex-boyfriend and left me flowers.”
“You think this is about jealousy?” he asks, coming around the counter.
“What else would it be about?” I say, although of course I know. I was contemplating the same thing a minute ago.
“It’s about getting to the truth.” He pauses, eyeing me. “My shirt looks good on you,” he says, putting his hand on my hip.
His attraction to me is something I secretly love, but wish I didn’t. I push his hand away. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m the reason you missed getting flowers this morning. I’ll take care of that. What’s your favorite kind?”
“I don’t want flowers from you. If you want to do something for me, let me go.”
“Not yet.”
The intensity of his gaze sends shivers down my spine and tingles through the private parts of me.
“Then I’ll go work on my classwork,” I say, knowing I need to get away from him before I give in to the attraction I’m trying to hide.
I wait for him to stop me, but he doesn’t say anything. I slide the duffle off the counter. When I turn, I half expect him to slap my ass. When he doesn’t, I don’t know whether I’m glad or disappointed.
CONNOR
I get updates from the guys all day. Leads are pursued, and people are ruled out.
I pull Trick from the neighbors and theater people the minute I learn about the ex. I’ve got a hunch, and I want Trick’s talents on it.
I pass the game room a few times. Zoe’s got her books and laptop on the poker table. She seems to be working hard, and I’m curious about the project, but I don’t interrupt.
The text I’m waiting for comes at three in the afternoon.
I’d sent Trick a text earlier in the day that only said: there’s an ex who shows up uninvited when he feels like it. Dennis Sanders.
Now he’s answered.
Trick: 85%
By eighty-five percent, Trick means that he’s eighty-five percent sure that Zoe’s ex is one of the guys who robbed us. Eighty-five percent sure from Trick is as good as a hundred.
I don’t text back. He’s not expecting me to.
Even on burner phones we don’t send many texts that relate to the darker side of our business. We’ll have a conversation later, somewhere secure. I’ll hear what he’s learned. And we’ll decide what comes next for Dennis Sanders.
Am I glad we’re almost at the end of the investigation? I am. Am I sorry that a guy who used to fuck Zoe is about to be on our hit list? No. I’m not.
I enter the game room. “How’s it going?”
She looks up and nods. “Good. I finished. I’m just proofreading my slides and making sure the videos play.”
“What’s the presentation about?” I ask.
“The Newport Jazz Festival. It’s for my Music History class.”
“Have you been to the Newport Jazz Festival?”
“No, but I’ve been to New Orleans Jazz Fest. And hopefully both NOLA and Chicago this coming year. We’ll see.”
“What does it depend on?”
“Money. And the timing of things.”
“What things?”
“Rachel’s schedule.”
I nod. “Would you go without her?”
“I don’t want to,” she says, stretching her legs under the table. “I might have to.”
“Can’t see why Frank would object to you guys going to a music festival.”
“Frank has plans for Rachel. If she does the things he wants, she might not have time for jazz festivals this year. I might not either. We’ll see.”
“You might not? What do Frank’s plans for her have to do with you?”
“Sometimes she needs some moral support. Or someone to drown her sorrows with.”
“Maybe she needs to leave the dark side. Maybe you both do.”
She stands, stretching her arms up, making those glorious breasts rise.
“You make it sound easy.”
“Do I?” I know better than anyone that leaving the Palermo organization is far from easy.
“No one leaves Frank without paying a price.”
“Some people pay the same price or worse by staying,” I say.
She exhales and shrugs. “It is what it is. You know that.” She starts to walk past me. I reach a hand out and catch her arm.
“Hang on.”
She turns, her dark brown eyes studying my face.
“What do you want from me?” she whispers.
“Want a list?”
The corners of her mouth curve up, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t even, C.” She sighs. “You think I’m not tempted?
What girl who’s seen you isn’t?” She rests a palm against my chest, her hand burning through the T shirt to sear my skin.
My dick is already at half-mast from just looking at her. The touch fans the flames.
“But you’re the dark side too, Connor. And like you said, I’ve got too much of that in my life already.”
I let her walk away, but this thing between us isn’t done. Not even close.