Chapter 4 #2
He laughed. “I told you. I think. I’m not threatening you.
I’m just letting you know that this isn’t the place for you.
You need to leave this alone, whatever it is you’re doing.
It’s like picking at a scab. Pick too much and you might irritate it, and then—” He shrugged, turning his head, and he winked at me.
“Nobody knows what happens after that, because nobody picks at it long enough to find out.”
I was exercising everything I’d learned—breath control, noting things as we passed them, grounding myself to the point I could keep the smile on my face.
We stared at each other, waiting for me to say something.
I wasn’t going to admit to anything, if that’s what he thought was going to happen. So I just continued to smile at him.
“You look deranged,” he whispered, causing me to burst into a fit of laughter.
“Oh, there it is. So, don’t you think it’s about time you left this scab alone before it gets—” He licked his lips, and my heart pounded to see it.
“Messy,” he whispered like it was the most delicious word that had come from his mouth.
“Uhm.”
“We can drop you off at your mom’s place,” he said. “That’s where you’re staying, right?”
I nodded. “I need the job,” I said. “I don’t know what or who you think I am, but you’ve got it twisted.”
Rocco placed a hand on my knee, squeezing it lightly. “I’ve not got anything twisted,” he said. “If anything, I’m doing my best to make sure you don’t end up in some ditch my dear friend and driver Roland would’ve had to dig.”
It was a confession, right? To doing bad shit.
I glanced at Roland through the rearview again.
He was an older man with a gray beard, the type of guy who probably gave his life to the Bianchi family.
Anything that happened in this car was definitely not going to be spoken about outsideit by him—or by me, if their threat was to be followed through with.
“I’m not a fucking Fed,” I said, this time trying my hardest to sell it.
“I don’t care anymore,” he grumbled. “You don’t have an active investigation, and I’ve told you, if you need someone to fixate on, what—so you can be here for your mom and her appointments?”
“How do you—”
He grabbed my arm and tugged me to face him.
“I might even know you better than you know yourself,” he said.
“You think I don’t have resources? You think I’d let you come into the Palazzo without knowing who you are?
I looked into you. I have people looking into you.
Right now. Currently. I have connections, Kalen, and you probably already know that. ”
I did, and I was hoping through those connections, I’d get him on something. My teeth were grinding to dust in my mouth, as I tried to speak and only managed a few false starts. “Leave her out of this.”
“I told you to leave, to not come in, but you pushed it. The buttons have been pressed. And sure, the food was nice, but you’re playing a dangerous game, and this is where you stop.
You tap out, and you tell me that it was a great experience, but you’ll be leaving back to New York, or Virginia. That’s where the big base is. Right?”
He’d rattled me. My clear-my-head walk had been turned on its head.
I couldn’t even focus. He’d mentioned my mom, and he knew she was sick.
It was a closed door non-starter. This was the sign I should’ve seen the entire time.
The Bianchi family were off limits. They ran legitimate businesses, and a hell of an operation at that—I wasn’t going to get them on anything.
My pulse throbbed in my throat as I shook my head.
Rocco’s grip remained on my knee. “If you’d like to confess to me, I’d be more than happy to absolve you of all the lies making you sick,” he said. “That pale look—or is that your Irish genes?”
A smiled. “Gimme a minute.”
“I’ll give you until we reach your mom’s apartment,” he said. “But the decision has already been made. You’re leaving and never coming back.”
I shook my head, my brain feeling like Jell-O, wobbling from one side to the other. “My mom needs me,” I whispered. “She’s all I’ve got.”
Something changed behind Rocco’s eyes, like he cared, or perhaps like he was changing his mind.
I continued to stare at him, trying to figure out what his next move was going to be.
“You’re pushing your luck,” he said. “But I think you know that. You like to push your luck, don’t you?
” His hand slowly moved up from my knee, squeezing my inner thigh.
“If you wanna fuck me, all you’ve got to do is ask,” I said, taking his hand and pushing it all the way up. Not quite touching my junk, but enough to do what he said I was doing—pushing my luck.
He chuckled, squeezing hard as I flexed my thigh as much as I could under his fingers. “I could do whatever I wanted with you right now,” he said. “But it’s the fact you’re throwing yourself at me that makes me not want you.”
“Who said I wanted you?”
“You practically begged to be on your knees for me the first time we met,” he reminded me—not like I needed reminding. I was trying to find a way to get closer, and sex was a way closer.
I shrugged, pulling his hand off my leg. “I’m not easy, but like you said, I begged, so maybe there was a reason for that.” I couldn’t confirm it was anything but my cover—which was me not working for the Bureau. “If you want to let me out, I can walk.”
The car pulled to a stop and I tried the handle.
It just thudded against the latch.
“No,” Rocco said. “I’m not taking you to your home. I’m taking you to my home.” He nodded to his driver and the car sped off.
A knot formed in my stomach. He wasn’t going to kill me. Right?