Chapter Fourteen
Milo
I’d just gotten out of the shower when I heard my burner ring.
I thought she was just calling to say the dress fit well or the lock worked. Something calm, casual.
But the second I heard her cry out my name, I knew something must have gone seriously sideways.
I stumbled back through the suite, yanking off my towel and dragging my pajama pants up my still-wet legs as I talked to her, trying to get her to focus and head toward me.
When I knew she was on her way, I reached blindly into my suitcase for one of the few t-shirts I’d brought with me.
Nerves shook my marrow as I grabbed my keycard and shoes before rushing out of my room and heading downstairs.
Then there she was as the elevator doors opened.
I clocked the new dress, the way it hugged her curves, how it contrasted with her skin.
But it was her face I lasered in on.
And she looked fucking ashen.
Her pretty blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery.
And her gait looked too loose, too wobbly.
She looked like she might fall apart.
Then the second I had her in my arms, she did.
Her legs decided to give in, and if I hadn’t been holding her, she’d have slid to the elevator floor.
“You’re okay,” I assured her, fingers massaging the back of her neck as we took the short ride back up to my floor.
I practically had to pull her along with me to my door. She teetered on her heels as she waited for the keycard to unlock the door.
Then we were moving inside.
I tugged her purse off her shoulder, dropping it on the ground next to the couch, then pulling her down with me, letting her legs slip over my lap.
She was quick to rest her head against my chest as I reached to pull her heels off before putting my arms around her.
“You’re alright now,” I assured her.
My gaze tracked over her, looking for any signs of injury. But I didn’t see any blood or bruises.
Still, something was clearly wrong.
Her whole body trembled against me.
I wanted to ask.
I wanted to know if shit had imploded.
If I had to call Domenico and get him out.
If I had to tell Remo that the jig was up.
I just didn’t want to pressure her.
So I ran my hands over her slowly, trying to ground her with my body.
Little by little, the shaking eased and her breathing went slower and deeper.
“Did someone hurt you?” I asked.
“No.”
“But something happened.”
“I left the flashlight,” she said, jerking upright, eyes huge.
“Fuck the flashlight.”
“But… but my fingerprints…”
“Trust me, Roe. That’s not something we have to worry about.”
“Okay. Alright,” she said, talking to her own nerves.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I went in to, you know, get the information. I think the flashlight worked. At least I hope it did. And I started going through drawers. I took pictures of documents, and—”
I resisted the urge to ask her what was inside of those files. There would be time for that once I knew what had her so freaked out.
“Did Frank come back?” I asked.
“No. No, it wasn’t Frank.”
But it was someone.
Fuck.
“One of his guys?”
Roe shook her head once, snuffled, then glanced up at me.
“It was the pit boss.”
“The pit boss,” I repeated, straightening. “The woman?”
“She’s the only pit boss I know of.”
“What happened? What did she say?”
“She came running in. She didn’t actually catch me doing anything. Aside from blinding the camera. She… she told me to run. To get out of there. That I had two minutes at best. Then she ran to get away too.”
That was… an interesting development.
From my understanding, the pit boss was one of the most respected in the area. Someone was always trying to poach her. Why she stayed with Frank was a mystery.
Helping Roe made me wonder if it had nothing to do with loyalty to her boss.
Or maybe she simply knew what would happen to Roe if she was caught and decided she didn’t want another woman to go through that.
“That was weird, right?” Roe asked.
“Yeah, that was weird. She was probably watching the pit cameras but caught sight of the white-out on that one and came to investigate.”
“Then why let me go?”
“My working theory is because she knew what Frank would do to you, in particular, if he found you. It’s no secret around there that Frank thinks of you as his pet. But anyone with eyes would know you keep him at arm’s length.”
“Point one for sisterhood, I guess,” she said, exhaling hard and leaning back to look at the ceiling.
“Do you think you were seen?”
“Not by that camera. And she made me turn right out of the hallway because there were cameras to the left. I hid out in my dressing room while security ran past, then tried to casually make my way out.”
“You must have been terrified,” I said, reaching up to run my fingers through her hair. The movement loosened her curls. She turned her head into my chest again, soaking up the sensation, the comfort she badly needed.
She was not meant for this.
For fuck’s sake, she was a former beauty queen and model. A present singer. She didn’t do shady and illegal shit. Her mind and system weren’t built for this.
“My heart got a workout for sure,” she said, trying to play it off. “I did manage to get some pictures,” she added. “I don’t know if they are anything worthwhile, but I got some receipts, mail, and a couple pages of files.”
“Anything is appreciated.”
“Are you sure I don’t have to worry about the flashlight?”
“Positive.”
“Even though my prints are on it.”
To that, a little chuckle escaped me. “Trust me, baby, Frank doesn’t have some super-secret fingerprinting database to compare it to.”
The tension melted a bit at that, but it was a long time before she spoke again.
“I looked you up, you know.”
My stomach clenched.
“I figured you would.” I forced my fingers to keep drifting casually through her hair and up and down her back. I didn’t want her to know just how tense that comment made me.
I’d been nauseated since I’d given that name to her, knowing she would find out who I was, what I did, then maybe change her mind about me.
That said, it felt wrong to keep my name from her once I put my hands on her. Especially when she asked for it.
There’d even been a moment when I’d wondered if she’d used the heat between us to manipulate me, that she might be some kind of fucking double agent.
But I knew it was much more likely that she simply didn’t like the idea of coming for a guy whose name she didn’t even know.
Shit.
That was not the right thought to allow to cross my mind right then. Not with her on my lap, all soft and sweet. And traumatized, for fuck’s sake.
“Your family is in the mob.”
It wasn’t a direct question, but I could hear one hanging in the air between the words.
“I am too,” I confirmed.
Granted, those weren’t words we were supposed to say. But it wasn’t like I was fessing up to actual crimes. Just to my own identity. To someone who was risking her life for me, for us.
“I thought so.” She paused, making it impossible for me to figure out what she thought about that. “It looks nice.”
“What looks nice?”
“Your family’s restaurant. Famiglia. It came up when I was looking into you. So I checked out pictures. It looks nice. The deck is amazing.”
“It is. No better place to eat in town. Hopefully, you can see it after all this shit is done.”
“That would be nice.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s going on in your head about it?”
“The restaurant? Mostly that I didn’t have dinner yet.”
“I was actually talking about me and what I do,” I said, patting her leg.
“But I can do something about the food situation.” I slid out from under her.
“What are you in the mood for? Got a lot of shit around here. I dunno how room service is here, so it might be smart to stick to a place you already know is good.”
“I almost never eat out. So I’m not a good judge.”
I paused at that, trying to find a tactful way to ask what was in my head. “Is that a watching what you eat kind of thing?” Lord knew she didn’t need to have any kind of concerns about her figure.
“It’s a ‘I don’t make a lot of money, so I eat at home’ kind of thing. Mostly salads. Or cold sandwiches. I don’t have a stove.”
“Is that legal? In an apartment?”
“That was my same question. Apparently, yes. You just have to have safe conditions and running water. No stove regulations.”
“Huh. Feel like that’s just padding the landlord’s pockets and fucking over tenants.”
“Right? I miss hot food.”
“Well, I can do hot food. What are you feeling? Chinese? Italian? Mexican? Americana?”
I swear her eyes went hungrier with each mention. I knew what I had to do.
“That was way too much,” she complained (very half-heartedly) when I finished the last call.
Normally, I’d be ordering on an app to make life easier. But I wasn’t taking any chances that some local contract delivery guy was linked with Frank.
Delivery from each restaurant still allowed you to use cash and first names only.
Technology was the downfall of most criminals these days. As an organization, we’d learned to be careful as fuck about it.
“You’ve had a night,” I said, tossing my phone on the coffee table before reaching for her.
I just meant to pull her legs over my lap again, to continue to be an anchor and safe space.
But my damn greedy hands sank into her hips instead, drawing her up onto her knees, then over my lap.
I reached down, ruching up the skirt of her very tight dress so she could move to straddle me.
Maybe I could have just pulled her close, held her, offered her more comfort.
But then her eyes flicked up.
And I saw my own need reflected there.
She drew in a slow, deep breath, then dropped down onto my lap.
A soft little mewling sound escaped her when she felt me hardening beneath her.
She shifted, rocking herself against me.
Her eyes went foggy.
Her lips parted.
Her breath stuttered.
There was no way I could stop myself from sinking my fingers deeper into her hips and dragging her against me.
Her choked moan stole whatever was left of my control.
I reached up, grabbed the back of her neck, and dragged her down to me.
My lips claimed hers, full of the urgency racing through my veins.
The kiss stole the air from my lungs.
Stole every coherent thought.
Stole fucking everything.