Chapter 14
The phone rings three times before Luca answers, "Yeah?"
"It's me. That thing is done. You've got to come now."
"What? Now?"
"Right now. It got moved up. Found the package a day sooner. It's prepared for transport. Boss wants you to deliver it."
"At the place?"
"Yes."
"Fuck...okay. Fine, I'll be there."
The call ends, and I tuck my phone back into my pocket.
I rub my forehead, trying to figure out how I allowed myself to get in this situation.
Did I even allow myself?
I dove into my work, focusing on doing what I do best, but it still isn't enough. The thrill of the hunt, my job—all of it seems muted to my senses and emotions. Some damn woman I met at a party is all I can think about.
"Please, finish me or let me go," the Russian yells from the ground.
"Shut the fuck up," I say and bring my heel down on his face.
Since that night, I've been tracking down a mix of those responsible for setting up the hit, and a few of their mid-range guys just to send a message. Enzo is out for blood on this one, so of course, that really means—I am.
The man curled up in the fetal position before me, gasping for air, is the last man before we move into phase two. He was the hardest to track down, but as I do best, I found him.
"You're dead, all you fucking Italians will die," the Russian says.
I kick him hard, pretending his head is a ball. He flies backward and lies on his back, unconscious.
As I stare down at him, all I can do is think about why I'm thinking about her. It's a torturous mind-fuck. To think about why you're thinking about someone—what the hell is that about?
However, that's the position I find myself in.
Since our dance and encounter at Sfera Nera, I can't bring myself to think about anyone else. No one interests me, and for someone who's never had a problem keeping company in my bed, I just don't understand it.
I sigh and wish it would have been anyone but Luca who got in my way. I need to respect the family that's raised me and the code we live by, but thinking of them together, it just...
I scream and kick the Russian out of frustration.
She's fucking mine.
I have to figure out something quick. As the days go on, it's getting worse. I can't step away and fly off to Europe to clear my head, I can't not ever see her again, and I can't afford to have my mind not in this 100%, especially if we're on the brink of war.
I fear that if I see her again, and we are alone, I'm going to want to claim her. Fuck the consequences.
Luca doesn't deserve her.
I feel myself getting worked up again, which isn't great since I'm going to have to see him when he arrives.
Suddenly, there's a noise at the front door—it must be Luca.
"Shit," I yell. The Russian is gone.
Getting sloppy, Gabe.
I run after my target, who I beat pretty bad, so running fast isn't an option for him.
He stumbles out into the street, and I see Luca's car. I raise my gun and fire one shot. The man falls forward and makes gurgling noises as he lies dying.
I look up and see blood splatter across Luca's window and almost smile, but then I feel as if I've been hit by a train.
It's her.
I lock eyes with Sofia in the passenger seat. The adrenaline of the kill mixed with my thoughts doesn't make me want to avert my gaze. I stare into her like a wolf at its prey.
I want to taste her.
I remember my gun is in my hand, and I quickly put it away.
Luca opens the car door, and our moment is lost.
"Dammit, Gabe, you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" Luca asks as he approaches, looking down at the dead man.
As we discuss the next moves, I keep stealing glances at Sofia. I see her staring at us, at me, but I don't know if it's because she's in shock or intrigued. I know there's something about her, something under the surface, but that's the icing on the cake that pulls me toward her.
"Come on, let's move this guy to my truck," Luca says, and I abandon my thoughts and push on with the task.
We toss the dead guy into the trunk, and his head hits the side of the emergency kit attached to the side wall—ironic.
"So listen, I, uh, got a situation here now," Luca tells me.
"You mean the woman in your car?" I ask, unable to speak her name for fear of what I'll do.
"Yeah, yeah. I couldn't leave her, and when you called, I just didn't want to leave you out here any longer. She won't be an issue or anything to worry about. She's a good girl. Just take her back to the Capstone. Can you do that for me?"
Part of me wants to flat-out reject his question. I don't know about being alone with her. It's going to put me in a bad situation, and I'm growing weak trying to keep my hands off something I want—I'm not used to it.
On the other hand, I don't really have a choice.
"All right," I say, regretting the words as they cross my lips.
He pats me on the shoulder, "And plus, Isabella and I got into a little fight. Nothing that can't be fixed, but I should probably end up at home tonight to remedy it—you know how it is."
I don't.
I'm not married. Never have been and never wanted to. It complicates things. I like being free to take what I want when I want, to hunt both my targets and women. It's the thrill that burns inside me, something that Sofia's altered, and I don't like it.
Luca slams the trunk. "I'll go tell her."
I nod, "I need to clean up," I say, pointing to my bloody shirt.
We part ways, him to the driver's side, and me walking past her, glaring down at her as she looks up at me.
I take in a few deep breaths to release the adrenaline of the kill as I approach my car. I open my trunk, remove my shirt, and find a clean one. As she approaches, I turn to see her. She's wearing a red dress that's so revealing my cock stirs in my pants, and I feel instantly ready to pounce.
I have no idea how I'm supposed to keep it together when she looks the way that she does and when I feel the way I do. I’m obsessed with this woman.
How does a hungry wolf sit patiently beside the one thing it wants to devour?